《Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School》 Chapter 1: Second Contact There was a lot of fanfare that surrounded the first human to have made it to the Academy. Though it wasn¡¯t because they were particularly well liked, or studious. Nor was it because they were in some way infamous or unsavory. In fact, they simply hadn¡¯t had enough time to make an impact either way, as they¡¯d emerged through the portal dead on arrival. It was a known fact that humans were just inherently magically-deficient. Their race was the last of the adjacent realms to have even detected the existence of magic after all, let alone learning of the Nexus¡¯ existence. What wasn¡¯t expected however was just how truly deficient they actually were, as the death of the first human student was directly attributed to their inability to not only control, but to resist the effects of latent mana. A feat that was supposed to be inherent in all living things, as the soul naturally projected a mana-field which prevented the flow of latent mana from entering or passing through it. Yet members of the faculty and staff present at the tragedy could attest to this universal truth being missing in the humans, or at least the human student, as his soul projected nothing, causing what should have been harmless mana to simply seep through him like a filter. Destroying the physical body, and mortally wounding the intangible spirit in the process. Now, decades after traumatizing an entire class of students, some of whom have now become faculty and staff themselves, the humans seemed confident enough to follow through with a second try. So, as morning gave way to noon, and noon to dusk, the crowd of freshmen intakes from across the realms were carefully sorted and filed out of the foyer, leaving the most problematic for last. Yet news had already spread about the human due for arrival. Whether it was a passing comment made by a faculty member, or a coincidental rumor run amuck, the damage was already done. Now, almost every student from freshman to senior, began making their way back to the academy¡¯s main concourse for a chance to peek and gawk at the human¡¯s arrival in morbid curiosity. Yet most that attempted this trek would only find themselves trapped in a maze of hallways that weren¡¯t supposed to exist. Indeed, many would somehow find themselves inadvertently redirected back to the seminarium, or worse, straight to the Dean¡¯s office for disobeying the one unspoken rule of the day: no entry back into the Foyer after dusk. Whilst a simple lock would have sufficed, the faculty refused to take any chances with the human arrival this time around. A repeat of the First Human Arrival would not happen again. Especially when a few of the faculty present were there for that gruesome arrival all those years ago. So even as mana stores were drained for the purposes of this elaborate barrier, it would all be worth it. This year¡¯s roster of freshmen students were a particularly noteworthy collection of nobility and even royalty. A velvet glove approach was necessary to maintain some level of decorum even as the rumors continue to circulate. Nobles naturally detested being told what they could or could not do after all. Yet despite their best efforts, a few of the more magically gifted did manage to find a way through. Making their way across hidden passageways and corridors, nominally hidden by a lesser cloaking spell, these gifted students eventually ended up in a small servant¡¯s hideaway usually reserved for the lesser elves. Those few that managed to evade the faculty¡¯s barriers were extraordinarily blessed by the Great Mother. Their magical potential overpowering or outright shorting out the otherwise strained and preoccupied barrier spells erected by the scant few professors and staff assigned to the task of overseeing the reception of this prospective human student.
The Lesser Elf Hideaway What was euphemistically referred to as a hideaway was nothing more than a hole in the wall the size of a large broom closet, yet lacking in even the height department in that regard. It was a far departure from the glitz, glamor, and comforts that the three freshmen were more than likely accustomed to, but that didn¡¯t detract from the one perk that drew them here in the first place, a rather worrying rumor that they¡¯d inadvertently proven right¡­ These rooms did have a disturbingly good vantage point of the large, open public spaces within the castle grounds. Yet as much as there was to discuss this strange myth being proven true, all of it took a backseat as the much more pressing concern of the human arrival took center stage. The three gifted freshmen, a Lupinor mercenary prince, a Vunerian court noble, and an Avinor Princess, struggled to find common ground despite having been immediately shunned by the rest of their gifted compatriots for reasons far beyond their personal control. Whilst misery did love company, it would seem as if there were too many differences to reconcile, at least within the span of the few short hours following arrival and orientation. ¡°Ilunor, for the Great Mother¡¯s sake, if you don¡¯t find yourself another spot, I will bite you.¡± The tall, fully grown Lupinor spoke. His row of razor-sharp teeth barely hidden underneath his lupine-like snout. The growling and snarling certainly did not help his species¡¯ less than stellar reputation as brutes and savages. Even his title, the Mercenary Prince, hinted at their peoples¡¯ troubled past. A past that not many were willing to overlook, as evidenced by their inability to shake their mercenary monikers. ¡°Bite me, and I¡¯ll have your flea-ridden hide suspended, expelled, and excommunicated from the Academy and the Nexus.¡± The smaller, diminutive Vunerien snapped back, which seemed almost comical given his stature and his kind¡¯s general disposition that much more resembled their second-rate Kobold cousins. Yet the Venurien were anything but second-rate. Through displays of wealth and extravagance they made certain that all who came into contact with them understood the clearly defined line between them, and the Kobolds they so very much still resembled. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The school uniform certainly did nothing but detract from whatever distinct features Ilunor had however, as by most metrics he could easily pass as a simple Kobold playing dress up in academy regalia. ¡°Guys¡­ I think we should keep it down, you¡¯re making too much of a fuss and if the professors notice us-¡± ¡°Shut it, Thacea. If we wanted a tainted¡¯s opinion then we would¡¯ve asked for it.¡± The Vunerien practically spat back, shooting down the Avinor¡¯s concerns as she slunk back into the background once more, something that she was more than accustomed to back in the Royal Court. The Avinor were a particularly well regarded race that had little in the way of conflict with any other species from across the realms. Compared to the rest of the gaggle of freshmen here, nothing about her particularly stood out, especially under the cloaks and uniforms assigned by the Academy. Nothing, except for the two, sharp, predatory eyes that stared unblinkingly out from their small cubby hole into the foyer below. Indeed, underneath the constrictive shirts, pants, and cloaks, lay a plumage that served as inspiration for many a mural and fresco within the academy¡¯s great halls. The Avinor were nothing if not stunning when in their element¡­ an element that was certainly lacking when she found herself struggling to fit inside the cramped, and unkempt servant¡¯s quarters. Yet as much as her plumage would undeniably tie her back to her royal heritage, and as much as the cloaks covered even that, nothing could hide the taint that lingered over her. A miasmic aura that colored her mana-field with a dark, almost ominous glow. One that contrasted with both the Lupinor and the Vunerien¡¯s bright, almost iridescent mana-fields. The three struggled to find footing as they stared out from what seemed to be a particularly well designed peephole, that granted them an uninterrupted view of the foyer below, and the group of black, red, and blue-cloaked professors who were busy with the incantations necessary to maintain the uncharacteristically weak and fragile portal.
The Foyer Adorned more like a palace than a center of learning, the Foyer was where students from across the adjacent realms would find themselves transported to at the start of each academic year. Its marble and quartz floors could be traced back to the first Kings and Queens of the Nexus, its gilded chandeliers were likewise gifts from Kingdoms and Empires long since forgotten to time. Indeed, within these four walls laid a great volume of artifacts that no adjacent realm could hope to match. Yet despite all of this grandeur and assurances to the Academy¡¯s infallibility, the trio of professors worked tirelessly to ensure that this air of perfection would not be broken. ¡°Surely we do not need to perform a fifth blessing upon this entire room, Professor Vanavan.¡± The red-cloaked professor spoke incredulously, whilst busying herself with what seemed to be an entire crate full of glowing, sparkling vials of pure mana extract. ¡°Of course we do. The humans are like a sickly newborn, they require the extra help, all the extra help they can get.¡± The blue-robed professor spoke, his elvish accent coming through particularly harshly especially under the stressful circumstances. ¡°We know how magically challenged they are, and we know how magic can pierce their non-existent manafields, straight into their unprotected souls. We all saw what happened to the first student we lost¡­ We cannot allow chance to dominate what could very well be the next realm to join the Nexus. The Earthrealm is nothing but untapped potential, so should they become the next in our line of adjacent realms-¡± ¡°With all due respects, Professor, if humans are that sickly, perhaps we should let nature take its course? I mean, look around, the only witnesses would be us, and we could very much easily claim a no-show on the human¡¯s end.¡± Announced the only black-robed professor present, and rather concerningly, one of the few who spoke with the authority of the Privy Council. Black-robes rotated on a year-by-year basis, being appointed not by the Dean or the Faculty but by the Royal Privy Council itself. Their positions only existed because of a lingering clause that came with the messily written treaty that ended the centuries-long conflict between the beings native to the Nexus Realm, and those of the Adjacent Realms. ¡°Well if they do make it, Professor Mal¡¯tory, then I¡¯d hazard to say that you might actually have something productive to report to the Privy Council, instead of the usual student roster reports and the occasional suspension.¡± Vanavan snapped back, a harshness to his voice was evident as the two began a fierce staredown that lasted for a scant few seconds, before, finally, the air around them started to cool. ¡°They¡¯re coming.¡± The red-robed professor spoke warily, as she began removing seal after seal that kept her various raw mana stores from simply sublimating. Almost as soon as each seal was uncorked from the unmarked, unlabeled vials, so too would the mana be violently drawn out, all concentrated around the incantation circle that continued to drain localized mana from the whole foyer at an alarming rate. Indeed, it wouldn¡¯t be too much of a stretch to even say that the professors felt mana being tugged from their very mana-fields, if it wasn¡¯t for their advanced magics keeping such disturbances at bay. The mana drain was so incredibly strong that the magically-lit lanterns adorning the colonnades began to dim, before going out entirely, leaving the entirety of the room in pitch-black darkness. Silence now reigned as the trio of professors concentrated their energies into forming the portal into a more cohesive shape, trying desperately to fight back against the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm them. All of this happened in complete and abject silence until suddenly- SNAP In a violent, almost unexpected display of brute force the portal opened just wide enough to allow not only for a single figure to materialize through, but for a glimpse of the world the creature had just arrived from to be visible to all within its immediate vicinity. It was a world of cold, bland, oppressive grays and blacks. A world full of metal railings and metal walls, of strange metal contraptions, golems, and electrical energy shooting back and forth across entire spaces in a dizzying array of overactivity. It was¡­ a decidedly alien world, one that the professors were glad to have only glimpsed at briefly, as the trio all struggled to stand after that entire experience. All were so overwhelmed by this experience that they overlooked the monster that had just landed on their doorstep. What could only be described as a hulking behemoth that matched the blue-robed Elf¡¯s height of just under 7 feet. The beast was clad in armor thicker than most ceremonial knights¡¯, with equally thick padding underneath. A helmet of incredible craftsmanship sat atop of all of this, with a single, flexible tube connecting its side with a large, metal backpack that looked as unwieldy as it was cumbersome. Two, blue-tinted opaque lenses now stared back at the professors, as the beast raised a single hand, and slowly began to wave. ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Emma. The new student from Earth?¡± Chapter 2: A Fated Career Change 10 Months Prior to Arrival Emma Booker There was once a time when I liked fantasy. A time when things were simpler, and the world just seemed like one big adventure waiting to be undertaken. I¡¯d grown up on newsreels of the first interstellar drives to break the Warp V limit and films that documented the first landings on habitable worlds not of our own design. I¡¯d spent hours upon hours on the soft, carpeted floors of my living room, reading and fantasizing about hidden worlds just beyond the snowy forests that flanked our small two-story home. Not a weekend was spent without me and my parents regaling each other with tales of heroes and kingdoms in far off lands. Not a season was spent without a new hyperfixation, a new campaign to be played between schoolwork and chores. I was living a fantasy, until one chilly autumn morning when it all came crashing down. One phone call was all it took; a single conversation ripped a line between what I¡¯d call my idyllic youth and the wake up call that was my teens. In the weeks that followed, I watched as the world around me was torn apart. Relatives and adults I barely knew began barging in and picking apart the warmth and comfort that had been my home. Family photos stored in boxes, shelves emptied and dismantled, the attic where mom and I would go on adventures to kingdoms in faraway lands, cleared out without hesitation. The spaces and places that I had once known slowly transformed into a hollow shell of themselves as the days and weeks went by. Until they finally took me as well, away from the only place I knew, and then only life I¡¯d known. I never saw my home again. I never even set foot in my hometown after I was relocated to my distant aunt¡¯s apartment in the city. Sometimes I even wondered if my memories of that small town life were all part of the fantastical stories I¡¯d grown up with, because imagining a world so perfect, so untouched by everything, was almost too fantastical in and of itself. Plaster and wallpapered walls replaced the warm oaks and pines I once took for granted. A skyline soaring hundreds upon hundreds of stories overhead likewise became the norm, as was the finely manicured park that was a twenty minute subway ride away from the apartment I now called home. No longer could I just exit the kitchen to find an expansive open yard surrounded by a dense patch of conifers, and no longer could I spend hours upon hours staring out the little nook in the front porch¡¯s windowsill, gazing as the seasons shifted from one to the other. The city was a whole different beast, and it was one that I¡¯d grown to love, in a strange sort of way. People here wouldn¡¯t bother you, even if you were in the middle of a crowd of thousands or an apartment complex filled with thousands more. The faces all blended together, everyone was too busy forging their own paths in life, so much so that I found it difficult to form any attachments. It¡¯s been an entire decade since I left my childhood behind, and I can proudly say that I¡¯ve come to call the concrete jungle my new home. My case workers told me that many people in my situation would prefer to retreat further into fantasy and fiction, but I did the exact opposite. The illusion of fiction was just too much to bear after having the rug torn from under me. So I focused on what mattered instead: real life. I was running on auto-pilot, as some of my friends would say. I got good enough grades at school, volunteered in extracurriculars as decorative pieces for my college application, and did what was expected of me. I needed to move on from what I lost. I wanted to leave that past behind in any way I could. I found structure and direction in the JROTC and from what few conversations my aunt and I had, it was clear she agreed with me ¨C not surprising given how she was a veteran of the Jovian Uprisings. Yet I wouldn¡¯t have expected that my journey into the military would lead me to a fate that further entangled me with a past I so desperately wished to move beyond. Indeed, I wasn¡¯t expecting what was supposed to be the start to my college life to be a backtrack into fantasy.
The Institute for Anomalous Studies, Earth. 10 Months Prior to Arrival. Director Laura Weir Emma was the perfect candidate. A nineteen year old college freshman with an impeccable academic record, alongside commendations on her JROTC reports. This alone wouldn¡¯t have made her stand out, if it wasn¡¯t for the fact that she had little in the way of familial or social attachments. This latter factor was especially vital, given the sensitive nature of this operation. An operation that would see the greatest risk ever undertaken by a single human being, second only to the perilous flights of humanity¡¯s first FTL-capable vessels. An operation that would indeed see her flung into a great, perilous unknown, disconnected and completely cut off from the rest of civilization, just like those brave pioneers centuries ago. Whilst the first human flights into the great unknown were preceded and accompanied by much fanfare, this great leap however, would not. For it presented a risk far greater than any FTL experiment ever could, carrying with it the weight of an existential threat we¡¯ve been tasked with studying and neutralizing. For centuries now, we¡¯d been observing, tracking, analyzing, and studying what is undeniable evidence of a world parallel to our own. A world that lurks just underneath the surface, that served as a source of myths and legends for our ancestors, and that continues to serve as a limitless pool of inspiration to those gifted enough to peer across the veil, inadvertently acting as a source of inspiration for countless works of fantasy and fiction Indeed, this world would¡¯ve been left at that, fiction, if it wasn¡¯t for us. Shunned and practically excommunicated by the scientific community, our outlandish claims were pushed aside as the march of progress continued ever onwards. Even so, as evidence began to stack, and as proof continued to mount, we eventually garnered the attention of the United Nations Science Advisory, who eventually saw fit to incorporate us into what is now the IAS. What we discovered was irrefutable evidence of what could only be described as a world of magic and sorcery, a fantasy world by every metric, and one that had the potential to upend our own. It was because of this existential threat that every resource was eventually poured into peering deeper into this world and its non-analogous scientific principles. Yet the more we tried peering in, the less information we got back. It was a battle of diminishing returns that lasted for centuries before we finally made a breakthrough. Our equivalent of discovering the Rosetta Stone. We discovered a means of communicating with the powers on the other side of the fence, and indeed, we later discovered this was intentional. The journey we¡¯d been on for the past few centuries, the discovery of this puzzle, as they called it, was all a test. It was a test to determine the ¡°magical potential¡± for those ¡°gifted¡± from other worlds. Indeed, it was a test that was considered commonplace and had been in place for what was described to us as ¡°eons¡± now. We were just late to the party. Mumbles were heard on the other side discussing how we technically weren¡¯t ever expected to pass this test, given how magically deficient our species naturally were. It was later revealed to us that every other civilization in our own galaxy had long since passed, and that we were effectively the last to follow suit. As a result, we would be the last to enter this realm of magic and sorcery. This perhaps explained why it was that we had detected no other technologically advanced civilizations, even as we developed FTL and roamed the galaxy for intelligent life. Theories abound on how this divergent pathway could have stagnated technological development, but that was a story for another day. Our correspondences led us to the understanding that upon completion of this test, a single candidate be sent through the threshold for further evaluation before their host civilization was allowed to fully peer into this great unknown. It called for a candidate of 19 years of age, of any rank and station, with what they described to us as ¡°a heart of gold and a willingness to accept what is beyond the known, and willing to sacrifice everything should it come to it¡±. Yet as we sent our first candidate through the threshold, it was clear that not only were we ¡®magically deficient¡¯, but that magic was actively rejecting us. Despite being in full PPE that should have protected against every hazard known to science, our first candidate was returned to us in a near unrecognizable state. An autopsy revealed the signs of a breakdown of cellular matrices at a microscopic level, and what would only be described as near-liquefaction of our first human candidate. But after some time was allowed for grieving, alongside whatever cover stories were needed to keep this under wraps, we knew we had to try again. It was decided then, that we would spend however much more time was necessary in order to study, probe, and poke at the dangers that lie beyond this threshold. In order to best counter it using every tool at our disposal. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Decades, and after what we hoped weren¡¯t lethal doses of ¡®mana¡¯ radiation later, we finally pulled it off. The ultimate expression of human defiance against an environment that would see us dead without an iota of empathy or compassion. The culmination of centuries of work, of sacrifice and hardship: the Mark I Exoreality and Atypical Radiation Resistant Suit (E-ARRS), or what most in the team now colloquially referred to as the enchanted power armor. Based on the framework of modern power armor expressly designed for combat in the vacuum of space, the suit was nothing short of a technological marvel. Layers upon layers of exotic materials protected the wearer from a total of 29 distinct types of magical radiation. A hermetically sealed oversuit and helmet prevented any exposure to the air, and kept any foreign contaminants (be it biological or chemical) from coming into contact with the wearer. Pieces of composite armor were attached almost identically to the original design, with all of this weight carefully distributed and compensated by an exoskeleton sandwiched between the undersuit and oversuit, hence the term power armor. Gauntlet-mounted laser and kinetic personal defense weapons were attached to both arms, despite the other side calling for the candidate to be sent unarmed. Despite all this effort, a candidate was still needed to cross the threshold. And that¡¯s where Emma comes in.
The Institute for Anomalous Studies, Earth. 10 Minutes Prior to Arrival. Emma Booker To say that the situation presented to me all those months ago was nothing short of unreal would be an understatement. Indeed, for a while I had assumed me being taken here was part of some elaborate psyops recruitment drive targeted at new unsuspecting members of the ROTC. It took hours before I was finally convinced that this entire situation was what the Director claimed it to be. I should¡¯ve guessed as much though, because I doubt grabbing a college freshman straight out of a parking lot and into the backseat of a blacked-out SUV was anything but standard protocol. The offer presented before me was something that no other human in history had ever been given. The opportunity to travel not just beyond the speed of light, or beyond the galactic quadrant, but to a whole other dimension. It was a world of (as the Director had put it herself) swords and sorcery, of indescribable history and culture, a world that I fundamentally had no interest in. Yet still, somehow, drew me in despite my desire to escape its allure. Perhaps this was the real reason why they chose me. Perhaps this was why, out of the countless more candidates they probably had, I would be the one to don the encounter suit. Perhaps they knew that I just couldn¡¯t help but to accept such an offer. Indeed, even I didn¡¯t know why I signed up without hesitation. Perhaps it was because I craved to follow the motions of what was expected of me. Perhaps it was a latent drive to tap into that childhood fantasy. Perhaps it was just that innate human spirit of adventure, of breaking yet another barrier that stood in the way of human progress. Whatever it was, I knew that by signing I was more than likely never going to see home, family, or friends again for at least a whole year while attending this ¡®academy¡¯ on the other side of the portal. So much for my plans for college. Who knows, maybe they¡¯ll accept transfer credits? The loss of contact with friends and family didn¡¯t bother me that much. It wasn¡¯t as if I had any tangible attachments anywhere anyways. The military was what gave me purpose in recent years, and it would be the military that would be backing me up in this adventure going forward. If anything, I would have all to gain and nothing to lose from this venture. So, with a single stroke of a pen, the grueling training began in earnest. It was months of specialized training. Focusing on theory, protocol, but most important of all: the practical instructions necessary for a life of prolonged suiting. The power-armor was described to me as being more akin to a spacesuit, and it was promptly drilled into me that it would be the only barrier between myself and the other dimension¡¯s unrepentantly volatile environment. How any native civilization, let alone species, had managed to evolve and survive there I did not know¡­ What I did know however was that an entire year of being cooped up in PPE would be challenging to say the very least. Which was also why I was given a sort of inflatable tent. One that had the same ¡°mana¡±-resistant properties as the suit, but with the downsides of being unbelievably fragile, so fragile that even an off-the-counter kitchen knife could pose a real threat to it. Yet it would be my only respite in between prolonged periods of suiting, and would be required for routine maintenance when the time did call for it. Weapons, survival, and tactical exercises were all part of the training regimen, all with a heavy emphasis on the suit¡¯s various subsystems. A fine piece of technology that I was beginning to grow fond of, given the lengths that the UN¡¯s best and brightest have gone to transform an EVA workhorse into a platoon¡¯s worth of force projection. Yet training and briefing on the other dimension was worryingly lacking. The Director herself admitted that we were going in half-blind. With far less than they would¡¯ve liked to work off of. It was admittedly up to me to ¡°make up for the lack of intel in situational adaptability and personal initiative¡±. I wanted to tell her that would be easier said than done, but given the circumstances, I held back on it. Eventually however, the time did come for my training, my skills, and my resolve to be put to the ultimate test. As I stood there in the middle of a lab straight out of a science fiction movie, with administrative staff, military attaches, and leading scientific minds all hiding behind a veritable bunker that overlooked a room filled to the brim with monitoring equipment and strange runic markings on the floor. ¡°Whatever happens, Cadet. Know that you¡¯re making history, and that you¡¯re making your country, your people, and the entirety of the human race, proud. Out of the 252 billion humans in this galaxy, you will be one of the only two to have stepped through this threshold.¡± The Director spoke in a rousing speech which elicited a few claps from behind her, as I responded with a single thumbs up and a nod. ¡°Neil Armstrong, Peter Li, Jean Rousseau, and Eleanor Sobeck all had something to say before they made their big leaps forward, didn''t they?¡± I asked, as the portal before me started to grow in increasing size and intensity. ¡°If I can even be compared to any of them that is¡­ I¡¯d like to say something as well.¡± ¡°Whatever it is, you better make it a quick one cadet, the portal¡¯s about to reach criticality.¡± ¡°Humanity has always reached for the stars, reaching ever outwards towards the heavens. Today, humanity reaches beyond the stars, beyond the heavens, into the pages of fiction itself.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Nexus. Emma Booker It happened almost instantly. In fact, it felt as if nothing had happened at all, as all I saw was the drab concrete and composite walls suddenly disappearing for a split second, only to be replaced with a room that looked like it was pulled straight from a recreation of Versailles. It was the same feeling you¡¯d get when leaving one room and entering another. Except without ever actually physically moving at all. My eyes had barely adjusted to that sudden shift in my surroundings before I was met face to face with what could only be described as three humanoid figures pulled straight from a fantasy novel. They all stared at me with the same shocked expression I probably had underneath the opaque lenses of the helmet. Yet as I noticed their robed figures, and most importantly, the distinct coloration between each of them, it became clear to me that these three most likely belonged to whatever staff, faculty, or hierarchy that existed here. Different colored robes, denoting different ranks, departments maybe? Clearly some sort of hierarchy, which means, officials, staff, faculty, teachers? I thought to myself as I held up a single, suited hand, and waved. ¡°Hi. I¡¯m Emma. The new student from Earth?¡± My whole body tensed as I spoke those words, realizing what I¡¯d just done¡­ I gave my speech before I arrived here. Which means¡­ the first words ever spoken by a human in this new reality would be¡­ oh god what have I done. It didn¡¯t take long however before the silence was promptly broken by the most striking figure in the group, a blue-robed elf, who immediately came to my side with an expression of growing concern. ¡°Emma was it? How are you feeling?¡± He seemed fixated on my helmet, tapping at the armor¡¯s composite chest-plate before continuing in a voice that did little to hide his rising anxiousness. ¡°I hear no breaths coming from¡­ er, through that suit of armor. C-can you breathe? I-if someone has gone wrong with this¡­ contraption, please inform me immediately so that we may take you to the infirmary in order to remove-¡± ¡°Whoah whoah whoah!¡± I raised up both hands defensively, the mere mention of removing the suit sent my survival training into overdrive as I took a few steps back, taking a moment to gather myself. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m fine. I feel fine at least. And the suit¡¯s fine as well. I erm. If I feel off or anything I¡¯ll be sure to tell you¡­ sir?¡± I cocked my head, realizing that none of the three have yet to introduce themselves. ¡°Ah, yes, the introductions.¡± The black-robed one spoke next. This one was also elvish¡­ except, darker, almost purple? A purple with a heavy hint of charcoal. Like someone had poured activated charcoal into grape soda. His hair was black, slick, and was formed back into two distinct locks. ¡°I am Council-Appointed Professor Mal¡¯tory, I am in charge of administrative duties relaying matters I deem of significance to the Privy Council and His Majesty the King, himself. As a Professor I am in charge of the Arts of Perception and Light.¡± The man refused to acknowledge me in any other way than a piercing stare. I bowed my head all the same though, not wanting to break any social faux pas on my first day. ¡°And I am Professor Vanavan, assistant to the Dean, and Professor of Mana-field Studies.¡± The blue-robed elf who had rushed up to me spoke, giving me half nod before turning to the older, clearly winded red-robed professor. ¡°This is Professor Belnor, she is in charge of the Potions Department and Professor of Potions crafting.¡± He spoke, before raising both arms up a welcoming gesture. ¡°We¡¯re happy to have you here, Emma of Earthrealm.¡± Once introductions were firmly out of the way, I gave a firmer, deeper bow. The three responded with varying degrees of acknowledgement, before Vanavan once more took charge of the group, gesturing for me to follow. ¡°You will have to forgive me for the brashness in my outward concern. The fate of your predecessor still looms over the academy like a specter of great shame; a tragedy that none of us wishes to see repeated. I have personally taken it upon myself to ensure that you do not suffer this fate. So long as you remain within my purview, within the walls of this academy, I will see to it that your life is free from harm.¡± Vanavan spoke with a certain severity that sent chills down my spine. The polite, caring expression contrasted heavily with the intensity of his speech. Yet that intensity seemed to die down almost immediately as we left the foyer, now morphing to a more amicable, excitable expression. ¡°So, it is clear that we will have much to discuss regarding your uniform and your manner of dress, Emma of Earthrealm. Though we should make haste to the orientation first and foremost! Everyone has been waiting with bated breath for your safe and timely arrival!¡± As the grand double-doors of the foyer closed behind us, I took note as the black-robed professor seemed to linger behind, his eyes fixated on a small slit nestled high up in a far flung corner of the room. Chapter 3: They Sent a Commoner?! Orientation. That was what the blue-robed elf spoke of when he, and the red-robed professor, escorted me towards yet another expansive room. This one more resembled the grand dining halls of old European palaces, gaudy, but still somehow tasteful. It was large, far larger than even the foyer, with white marble and a smokey gray quartz lining every square inch of the floor. In fact, if you looked closer, you could see these intricate, lightning bolt-looking patterns that more resembled cracks in the otherwise pristine flooring that pulsated with each step you took. Well, it pulsated for everyone else anyways, but it seemed practically dead with each and every one of my steps. Speaking of footsteps, it was clear that the sound generated by a hard composite boot slamming into an equally hard, unyielding surface, was rather loud and borderline offensive. Given the fact that the entire room seemed to have been clued in on my arrival, even prior to my entry into that elevated outcropping that positioned anyone entering the room about a half-floor¡¯s height above the rest on a grand set of stairs. It seemed to be something reminiscent of those grand staircases where one¡¯s name would be called out prior to entering the room. Indeed, as I looked to my side, I saw this scrawny, yet well dressed diminutive elf that was in the process of unfurling a scroll filled to the brim with names and titles. A scroll which I promptly snapped a photo of, for that sweet, sweet intel. ¡°And finally, the last to join the esteemed ranks of the first-year class of 29,019, Miss Emma Booker, of Earthrealm!¡± The elf announced, much to the completely lifeless reactions of the room filled to the brim with what I can only describe as an eclectic collection of fantasy and alien races alike. From even more elves of varying phenotypes through to lizardmen that could¡¯ve just as easily belonged in a Harry Turtledove novel as much as a Dungeons and Dragons rulebook. Some of them seemed to be wearing a dressed-down version of the professor¡¯s cloaks and gowns, yet quite a few seemed to be adorned in silks and other assorted fineries reserved for the nobility of old Europe. Perhaps this is what the Professors meant when they said that the uniform situation could be sorted later? It was a lot to take in, but what was more disconcerting was a sudden, almost inexplicable realization of the situation that I was currently being thrust into. I had not taken into account just how life here would actually pan out. Most of the training had been squarely focused on survival, and survival alone. From suit maintenance to potential protracted engagements, to weapons training, there was a distinct lack of any training in the realm of just¡­ fitting in. What¡¯s more, I didn¡¯t even consider it given how much of my anxiety and concern was fixated on just surviving the journey here and not turning into a liquefied mess. So when the issue of my survival was well and truly out of frame, what was left was the need to adapt to college life. It was, ironically, something that I¡¯ve been preparing at home for years now. However, something told me that those months of cramming for the SATs and years spent in AP classes probably wouldn¡¯t mean much here. I stared at the crowd blankly¡­ was I supposed to say something? Curtsy? Is that what old medieval people did? Was I expected to give a speech about being the first human here? Or rather, the first living human here? My anxieties ate away at me as the massive crowd of students likewise seemed to lack any suitable response to what was effectively a 7 foot tall suit of power armor staring all of them down. ¡°Emma.¡± I finally heard Vanavan whispering. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to just go down to whichever seat you deem suitable.¡± A feeling of relief washed over me as I realized that I didn¡¯t have to give an impromptu speech after all- ¡°That is, if you don¡¯t wish to give a speech. Being the first of your realm, there are expectations, but this can vary from person to person and realm to realm. So, do as you please.¡± The red-robed professor quickly interjected with a sly, almost mischievous voice. Something I wasn¡¯t expecting from someone who possessed the face of a kind elderly grandmother. That relief that had washed over me had suddenly disappeared, now completely replaced by a sense of utter dread as I cleared my throat, adjusted my suit¡¯s speakers to make sure I would be audible, and spoke. ¡°H-hello. I¡¯m Cadet Emma Booker of the United Nations¡¯ Reserve Officer Training Corps, North-American Sector, Homeworld Command. I am here on behalf of¡­¡± My people? The United Nations of Earth and Luna? My country? My nation? ¡°... humanity, and its representative body, the United Nations. I hope to¡­ learn from everyone here, to share cultures and ideas, and to see what there is to see here.¡± I managed out, forcing a smile underneath my helmet even though I knew that wasn¡¯t necessary. Silence was all that greeted me after that introduction, however. Silence followed by the start of mumbles and whispers, which normally wouldn¡¯t even be audible from this distance, but was certainly more than audible using the suit¡¯s onboard audio-visual sensors. ¡°They sent a squire?¡± ¡°No, I think ¡®cadet¡¯ is the lowest rank of any armed forces isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Nono, that¡¯s only in the Alturic Principality. In my Kingdom, it¡¯s the rank of those of commoner-candidates who wish to join as auxiliary commissioned officers.¡± ¡°You Alturicians with your commoners¡­¡± ¡°Whatever! That doesn¡¯t change this dishonor! The Earthrealm sees itself as so much more important that it sends the lowest of the low to our ranks?¡± ¡°Even the Empire of Alanor sends its merchant houses, commoners as they may be. A lowly officer-candidate is not rich or socially prominent are they?¡± ¡°Not in my Kingdom, no!¡± ¡°I hate to be pointing out the obvious here but, why the hideous suit of armor?¡± ¡°To hide the hideousness underneath more than likely¡­¡± ¡°Wait, you guys, I don¡¯t see her mana-field.¡± ¡°Maybe because she¡¯s too far away-, no, wait you¡¯re right. Wait¡­ no, they couldn¡¯t have.¡± ¡°Did they send a slave to the Nexus?¡± ¡°They wouldn¡¯t dare. That suit of armor must be enchanted, it must be hiding her mana-fields. There¡¯s no adjacent realm thick enough or foolish enough to send a mana deficient creature.¡± ¡°Well, this is going to be a fun academic year¡­ we either have a peer that possesses magical enchantments that far surpasses any of our own artificing methodologies hiding whatever tainted creature lies within. Or we have a mana deficient creature, a slave in all but name, masquerading as a peer.¡± ¡°The truth shall make itself known soon enough.¡± I shut off my long-range listening device (L-RLD) almost immediately after hearing those unfiltered voices. The jabs and slights at the armor and my apparent shortcomings in the physical attractiveness department wasn¡¯t what really worried me. Heck, it wasn¡¯t even the rampant classism and throwback to pre-industrial politics that worried me. It was the latter claims of magical deficiencies and slavery. That was going to be a hot topic I needed to sort out¡­ preferably sooner rather than later. A grimace formed at the edges of my face as I turned towards the Professors worryingly. The pair seemed to be oblivious to the fact that I¡¯d been able to discern the general consensus within the room, as they simply gestured for me to descend down the stairs and into the dining hall proper. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Whatever social interactions came next was probably going to suck.
The Foyer ¡°Come out.¡± Mal¡¯Tory spoke under a rigid, hushed breath. Despite this his voice still echoed throughout the foyer, carried by some unseen force that caused anyone within visual distance to feel as if that simple command was being whispered right into their very ears. Yet there was no response, not from any of the gaggle of interlopers currently hiding in abject fear of being caught. ¡°I understand there are three of you hiding within the servant¡¯s quarters. Fitting. Really. Given how you lot cower like the lesser elves whose rooms you currently inhabit. Perhaps that should be your punishment hmm? A relocation to the servant¡¯s quarters for an entire semester?¡± Not a single one dared to respond as they all held their collective breaths. ¡°Unlike the rest of the professors, I speak with the Royal Council¡¯s authority. Your bluffs of noble nepotism fall flat.¡± Silence. ¡°Consider this a warning then. I will allow you three to wallow in the fact that your identities may or may not be known to me.¡± An uncompromising grimace remained plastered on the man¡¯s face as his posture never once faltered whilst gazing up at those shallow slits in the wall. ¡°I leave you with these parting words as a welcome to your academic year.¡± He concluded, before finally, leaving the room entirely. His exit caused the lights, the very room itself, to quake in knowing fear.
The Lesser Elf Hideaway The Lupinor stood with his back up against the uneven stone finish of the room, the dampness of the walls seeping into his uniform and fur as he stared blankly into space. The Vunerian, meanwhile, seemed adamant on hiding underneath the servant¡¯s bed, his whole body quaking as every fiber of his being screamed at him to do something, yet he remained in a hyperventilating state all the same. It was only the Avinor princess who remained relatively calm, her expressions whilst difficult to read on account of the beak, was still decidedly unmoved by the whole exchange. ¡°Let¡¯s head back to orientation now, there¡¯s not much time left before it officially starts.¡± Was all she said as she walked calmly towards the door, only to be chastised by the Vunerian. ¡°H-how are you so calm?! I-it¡¯s because you¡¯re a princess isn¡¯t it? You know you won¡¯t be affected like the rest of us! You know you¡¯re going to get off scot-free! You probably even know the guy personally! You-¡± ¡°There¡¯s no point in cowering or panicking.¡± Was all Thacea said in response. ¡°You learn that the hard way when you¡¯re in the Royal Court.¡± Her tainted aura seemed to shift and shudder at that, forcing the Vunerian into silence once more as the Lupinor nodded in agreement. ¡°Let¡¯s get going then. As tainted as the princess is, she has a point. In battle, there are sometimes losses, sometimes gains. It isn¡¯t worth worrying about the long-term implications of recent losses, if you don¡¯t live to survive the next battle. So let¡¯s make this next battle count.¡± The Lupinor practically growled out towards Ilunor, but in a complete shift of attitude, gave Thacea a curt nod. ¡°Perhaps I may have misjudged you in the opening hours of this battle, princess. Your resolve, at least compared to this lizard¡¯s, is stronger than I could¡¯ve imagined.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± Thacea responded promptly, a smile of relief forming at the edges of her beak. ¡°I am merely stating a fact. If we are to survive here, we will all need to share a similar resolve.¡± The Lupinor chimed back, before turning his head towards the now dust-ridden Vunerian. ¡°A resolve which is severely lacking in our Vunerian comrade.¡± Without a second¡¯s hesitation the pair promptly left the servant¡¯s hideaway. Followed closely behind by Ilunor who, in his rush, was particularly more disheveled than when he first entered the room. ¡°You made sure to bring your amulets, yes?¡± The Lupinor continued as he slowed down just enough for the Vunerian to catch up. ¡°So you¡¯ve heard the rumors too?¡± Thacea inquired back, refusing to respond just yet as she gauged the wolf¡¯s expressions with questioning intent. ¡°Anyone worth their mettle and their stations would have heard the rumors!¡± Ilunor suddenly interjected, still winded as his shorter, stubbier legs found it difficult to maintain the long graceful strides the taller pair of misfits were capable of. ¡°Yes. So I ask again, did you bring your amulets of dispelling?¡± The Lupinor reiterated, his tone shifting to one that was much more severe, pressing the matter without room for anything beyond a yes or a no answer. ¡°Yes. Of course. There isn¡¯t any reason not to be careful, especially in such turbulent times. It is troubling to believe that the faculty would be so brazen to attempt the binding ritual on orientation day. Those¡­ less fortunate will have no time to prepare, and to my understanding this will be the first time in over a thousand years that the faculty will be brazen enough to break any of the unspoken rules.¡± Thacea responded, opening up the doors to further discussion as she and the Lupinor both palmed their respective amulets underneath their cloaks, one disguised as a ceremonial dagger, the other disguised as a pendant on a royal necklace. ¡°And you, Ilunor? Have you brought your amulet of dispelling?¡± The Lupinor turned back towards the exhausted Vunerian, who only nodded in reply as he struggled to maintain the pair¡¯s ungainly pace. ¡°Let us hope it does not come to it. However, if it does, then at the very least we will be safe in the knowledge that our group will be protected from the chains of the ritual of the binding charter.¡± Thacea sighed back in apprehension as the pair now found their way back towards the side entrance to the grand reception hall.
The Grand Reception Hall Emma Booker Do you know the feeling you get when you enter a movie theater 10 minutes past its start? Or that the awkwardness that comes with mingling with strangers at your distant relative¡¯s expensive wedding? That was the feeling I was experiencing as I waded my way through the sea of domed dishes and fine silverware that floated to and from each table. Yet unlike the long, communal tables of certain fantastical schools I¡¯d read as a child, this school seemed adamant on modeling itself more like an exclusive dining venue. Closed-off groups had already clearly formed as evidenced by their active conversations and dismissive glares. Species-exclusive tables were likewise scattered about, particularly true for the elves and those of draconic descent. Indeed, there wasn¡¯t a single table that was available save for the strangely out of place circular one tucked away in a far corner of the room. One that was clearly supposed to seat four, but at this point was empty. I realized this was probably my best bet, even if this meant I wouldn¡¯t be mingling with the locals for the duration of this orientation. Great. We¡¯re back to middle school politics on who sits with who. This was supposed to be a college, everyone here¡¯s my age, why aren¡¯t they acting like it? My thoughts and growing anxiety were quickly replaced by a far more pressing matter however, as I sat down at the table, and felt the unmistakable feeling of a chair far too fragile for the immense weight of my suit. My heart skipped a beat as I felt my whole body clench whilst I struggled to shift my weight to avoid, or at least delay the inevitable. The engineers back at home probably hadn¡¯t even accounted for this exact scenario, and probably any other scenario that didn¡¯t involve outright utility, maintenance, repair, or survival. Ergonomic functionality in day-to-day social interactions was probably the last thing on their minds when designing and constructing this thing, and it was beginning to show. But what else could I do? Stand? I knew that I¡¯d just have to chance it. Placing half of my weight on the chair and the other half on my calves as I maintained an awkward, almost painful ¡®seated¡¯ position, all in an attempt to prevent the unthinkable from happening in the middle of what was perhaps the most important day of the year. First impressions were everything and I¡¯d already started off on an unsavory foot with that ¡®speech¡¯. Not to mention the troubling implications of their gossiping whispers. Yet it was just as I had managed to acclimate myself that a new unexpected variable entered the picture, in the form of three additional students who quickly joined my table in a hurried sprint. The three seemed to halt dead in their tracks when they spotted me, as their eyes strayed throughout the room, in some last minute attempt to scour for any other available seats. When it became clear this wouldn¡¯t be possible however, the three began to resign themselves to their respective fates. The small, diminutive, somewhat disheveled looking draconic lizard seemed to just be done with it all, simply sinking into his seat with a sigh of defeat. The werewolf looking creature however, seemed dead-set on just staring me down, as if sizing me up for a fight. Finally, the most striking of the bunch, what most resembled a tropical bird, seemed to have given me a single glance before turning back towards the various other points of interest scattered throughout the room. The bird in particular stood out the most, despite being dressed in the drab grays and blacks of the academy¡¯s uniform, what plumage was still visible stuck out in stark contrast with the otherwise repetitive gold, silver, marble, and granite of the castle. This was probably why even more eyes were drawn to us now, as our little corner had become an eclectic collection of oddities to gawk at. I was so focused on the various eyes and hushed voices fixated on us that I didn¡¯t notice the bird¡¯s gaze shifting towards me. Without any warning, other than a soft barely audible whisper from her beak, a flurry of alarms assaulted my HUD. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 192% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Yet as quickly as the alert had sounded, so too did it vanish from view, as the radiation levels dropped back down to background levels after a few short seconds. I shot an accusatory glance at what I assumed was the perpetrator behind this with a grunt of annoyance, shifting my weight around in my seat¡­ only to realize that the seat no longer felt like it was about to give way. A sharp shocked exhale of disbelief escaped from my vocoder, garnering the attention of the two and an ever so subtle smile from the bird. Or at least what I assumed was a smile. I cocked my head at the avian stranger as she reciprocated with a knowing nod. It was at this point that I finally broke my minutes-long silence with as appreciative of a response I could muster. ¡°Emma Booker, thanks for the save there.¡± ¡°Princess Thacea Dilani, it¡¯s my pleasure.¡± Chapter 4: A Table of Misfits A Princess¡­ a real, honest to god, princess. My mind had struggled to register that. The past half hour alone was just about enough to overwhelm my head with an inundation of experiences completely removed from my reality. From magic, to mythical races, to talking birds, and an entirely alien civilization that I had no context for, everything here was just about pushing the limits of my sanity. But in a good way¡­ A part of me thought to myself as I felt a mix of conflicting feelings bubbling up to the surface. There was an intrusive excitement that came with the novelty of it all, of actually being in a place that should have been reserved for the pages of a fantasy novel or the fleeting hours of a DnD session. It was sickeningly nostalgic, and provocatively exciting, but I had to keep it in check. The reality I was in was nothing like those fantasies¡­ despite my deepest desires to believe it. I quickly pushed aside those intrusive thoughts as I attempted to focus on the task at hand, which at this point was just trying my best to fit in. Something that was much easier said than done given the obvious barrier that was the suit. ¡°You know, where I come from, stories usually start off with the knight saving the Princess, and not the other way around.¡± I managed out with a chuckle, attempting to break the ice with my own off-brand humor which I think worked? It was difficult to really tell with a face that was dominated by a beak rather than a mouth or even a snout. Combine this with what was perhaps years of whatever manners or social training Thacea had received as a royal and it was clear that I¡¯d have to be laser-focused on all of our discussions, or risk being lost in the sea of social cues that existed for royalty and nobility. ¡°Well you¡¯ll be quite happy to know that those preconceived notions are quite well and alive here in the Nexus as it is in most adjacent realms.¡± The Princess began. Her voice was sharp, but rich, somewhere between a parrot¡¯s mimicry and an owl¡¯s deep hooting. There was a certain restraint in the way she spoke, even with this little piece of banter. ¡°Are you¡­¡± The Princess continued, her eyes clearly fixated on my armor rather than the person inside it. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse my presumptuous line of questioning of course, but am I correct in assuming you¡¯re a knight of your realm? Perhaps a squire, given how knighthoods are most usually bestowed well beyond the Academy¡¯s age of matriculation.¡± I blinked for a few moments, feeling as if I was thrust into an interview or a social function reserved for the Director and her military brass. If this were any other situation I would¡¯ve just been done with it and answered with the first thing that came to mind, but this wasn¡¯t like any other situation¡­ so whatever answer I gave had to be heavily audited. How would you even begin to explain the concept of an ROTC cadet to someone from an era that didn¡¯t even have a proper standing army¡­ or did they? Wait, did they have standing armies in the medieval era? Could the medieval era even be used as a point of reference for the Nexus and whatever the adjacent realms were? There certainly wasn¡¯t anything in the massive SIOP (Social Integration and Operations Protocol) manual that could¡¯ve prepared me for a face to face interaction with royalty of all things. To the credit of the SIOP¡¯s authors though, no one could¡¯ve ever expected any of this. ¡°Knights and squires aren¡¯t really a thing in my world anymore, actually.¡± I replied confidently, puffing my chest up as if to compensate for my utter lack of understanding for what constituted proper social etiquette here. Though that probably didn¡¯t do much given the suit was in the way of any real body language to be read. This answer however proved to be¡­ lacking, as the Princess raised a single brow in response, leaning forward in her seat as she allowed my words to linger in the air. It was as if she was going through and dissecting the implications of my claims methodically, her eyes not even making the effort to hide the analytical mind behind it. A mind that was more than likely going to throw some curve-ball of a question back my way. ¡°A-¡± ¡°A realm without knights and squires eh?¡± The wolf looking creature finally interjected, completely cutting off what was probably going to be a carefully worded line of questioning from the Princess. This caught me off guard, as my attention was now squarely focused on this hulking mass of a creature. If Thacea was a Princess, what I assumed was a member of a royal household, then what right did this wolf have to interrupt her like that? The only assumption I could make was that perhaps he was higher up the ladder than she was, and that thought alone was definitely something to be worried about. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s correct.¡± I answered curtly, making sure to balance my dislike of his interruption with caution regarding his place in the social pecking order here. ¡°Hmmph.¡± He scoffed back, as he sized me up again, his predatory eyes managing to lock with my own underneath those opaque lenses, sending shivers down my spine. ¡°Yeah, nah, not buying it. You got a better cover story or are we going to be dealing with a spineless liar and a charlatan for the rest of the school year?¡± He boldly announced. Catching me off guard as I noticed the princess mellowing back into the background as the tension grew. Part of me wanted to avoid confrontation, to just explain away the situation carefully. Another part of me knew however that yielding softly wouldn¡¯t help matters. Especially not with someone who was clearly trying to assert themselves like this. A distant part of me wanted to demonstrate the utter obsolescence of knights in shining armor by pulling out my sidearm. This was, of course, a distant thought for a reason. Maybe another time¡­ ¡°Those are big words to throw around, pal.¡± I spoke, letting what little of a polite front I was putting up crumble away as I leaned in closer towards the table. ¡°You caught that much just from one sentence alone, did you? Listen¡­ I don¡¯t take too kindly to being called a liar before I¡¯ve even been properly introduced to the person throwing those punches, so why don¡¯t we clear up the air a little here, start with names and introductions, then address whatever lies you think I¡¯m spouting?¡± I offered, trying my best to de-escalate the situation, but also making it clear that I wasn¡¯t about to take his crap lying down. ¡°I¡¯ll start. I¡¯m Emma Booker, what¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Thalmin. Prince Thalmin Havenbrok of the Lupinor court.¡± The Lupinor spoke with little in the way of pomp and circumstance, but rather, with an air of underlying aggression that saw his maw curl up in a snarl with his rows of canine-like teeth brought to bare. ¡°It¡¯s actually Mercenary Prince Thalmin Havenbrok of the Lupinor court.¡± The diminutive lizard piped up, finally deciding to enter the conversation, his eyes facing me with equal parts confusion, anxiety, and genuine intrigue. ¡°I must apologize for my ill-mannered friend here, this is very much typical of Lupinor court nobility, and even moreso with their royalty.¡± He continued, as if trying to vie for my attention as it was clear now that all eyes were firmly on me. ¡°You will watch your tongue Ilunor, or you will find it, and the rest of the head it¡¯s attached to, missing from your shoulders by night¡¯s end.¡± Thalmin shifted his aggression towards the small lizard, who fell short of impressed let alone intimidated by the Lupinor¡¯s antics. ¡°Let us not beat around the bush.¡± Ilunor spoke, completely ignoring Thalmin¡¯s threats and focusing the line of questioning squarely on me. ¡°Squires and knights, court etiquette and chivalry, lies and whatnot, all of it can be discussed later. What we need to know right now-¡± His tone softened as he paused in the middle of his sentence to mutter out something under his breath. Something which caused my HUD to once again be assaulted by a barrage of warnings. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 225% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Warnings that disappeared within a few seconds just as it had been with Thacea¡¯s use of magic. However, unlike the chair, I didn¡¯t notice any difference to me, or my immediate surroundings. That was until I noticed that my long range listening sensors were all but dead, as it felt as if there was an acoustic bubble that had enveloped our table. I assumed this probably worked both ways so while we couldn¡¯t hear what was happening on the other side of the bubble, so too would our conversations be completely inaudible to the rest of the room. ¡°-is what you¡¯re doing here in a full suit of armor. Armor that is clearly concealing your mana-fields. Tell us, Emma of Earthrealm, have your kind developed a way to hide the sickness of mana-field taint?¡± ¡°Ilunor, please-¡± ¡°Quiet princess, if we are to move forward as a peer-group, we mustn''t hide such pressing matters from one another!¡± The lizard snapped, cutting Thacea off, as it became clear to me that these two were not above knocking her down at every possible turn despite her royal rank. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. It sickened me to my stomach. ¡°That must be the only reason behind your ridiculous insistence on wearing a full suit of armor to the Academy, why else would someone try to mask their mana-fields? In fact, I don¡¯t even think there¡¯s anyone underneath that suit at all. Are you perhaps a golem, or some artificed slave-soul trapped in metal? There¡¯s no other explanation as to why you are able to sit there, exuding nothing. Like a lifeless suit of armor!¡± The lizard turned around to face Thalmin, then Thacea who sat there with a look of growing concern. ¡°You all feel it! I know you can! There¡¯s no mana-field within or around that thing! It¡¯s like a slave is sitting at our table! How else would this¡­ this¡­ thing feel so lifeless and dead?!¡± He reiterated, forcing Thacea to slink back further into her seat as the Lupinor grew quieter and quieter still. ¡°I¡¯m just saying what¡¯s on everyone¡¯s mind.¡± He quickly added. ¡°What the heck is your problem?¡± I shot back through my vocoder, the volume alone causing the diminutive lizard to slink firmly back against his seat. I stood up, the full 7¡¯4¡± height of my suit easily surpassing the lizard¡¯s height twice-over. Whether it was the stress of the whole situation, or the fact that my hands were practically splintering the table at the seams, Thacea finally snapped back. ¡°Enough!¡± It was at this point that my sensors reported another surge of magical radiation. Except this time it wasn¡¯t capping out or remaining fixed at a certain percentage over the background radiation, but was fluctuating wildly. Soon after the variable fluctuation of mana-field energy, I felt the audio-nullifying bubble around us pop, as the sounds of the room were once more audible, forcing all of us to step back from each other¡¯s throats before I heard yet more gossip from afar. This time targeted towards the avian. Huh, seems like the tainted princess just had a little breakdown. I¡¯m surprised they even sent her to the Academy. Only the Gods and Goddesses know when her taint will overwhelm her mana-fields. It will spell death for everyone here. May her peer-group find solace in their quick and timely demise. ¡°Wait, group?¡± I parroted out, which garnered the attention of everyone at the table. ¡°Are we-¡± ¡°Oh, so our knight in shining armor finally gets it. Yes, our group. The table you sit with at orientation will dictate your peer-group for the rest of the academic year.¡± The lizard hissed back, as he refused to meet my gaze, instead, focusing on domed dishes in front of him. ¡°I believe this is why Prince Thalmin Havenbrok, and Lord Ilunor Rularia here are currently on edge. It is¡­ a huge risk for the three of us to be paired with a being which we lack any knowledge of. As a result of this, and in addition to the great number of stressors we each faced prior to our arrival at the academy, there exists a great deal of tension which both Thalmin and Ilunor seem to be resolving with fear, anger, and frustration. For that I must apologize, Emma of Earthrealm.¡± The Avian gave me the slightest hint of a head nod that I reciprocated in kind. I wanted so desperately to punt the lizard across the room, perhaps even knock Thalmin down a peg, but I knew they were probably acting out of stress. I could empathize. Conflict de-escalation was what was keeping me back, although it was a bit harder to do with the lizard. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I get it. I literally just survived being turned into a pile of liquefied goop just a half hour ago. We all have our issues to contend with.¡± I sighed, placing both hands on the table in front of me. ¡°I¡¯m willing to answer any questions you have, but let¡¯s just try to be a bit more civil, okay?¡± I offered, putting that olive branch out there as the wolf seemed to be willing to play ball, nodding and leaning forward. ¡°The lizard has a point.¡± He began. ¡°We need to know why the armor, Emma.¡± His tone was far more subdued now, but still carried a certain severity behind it. I looked everyone dead in the eye, and despite them all being unable to see my eyes underneath the lenses, I tried my best to maintain eye contact all the same. Part of me wondered if I should evade the question, but I knew that if this really was to be my group for the rest of the year, healthy communication would be key. ¡°If I take this off I die.¡± I stated bluntly, eliciting reactions I more or less expected. ¡°Dramatic.¡± Ilunor whispered under his breath. The wolf however, didn¡¯t seem to mind as he gestured for me to continue with a single nod of his head. ¡°Go on.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure if the Academy told you this. I mean, judging from how gossipy this place is¡­¡± I gestured to the tables behind us to illustrate my point. ¡°It would be kinda surprising if you guys hadn¡¯t heard, but the previous human student who tried to cross the threshold just ended up melted. The suit is all that stands in the way between me and that fate.¡± I shuddered, a tinge of concern dripping with every word as just admitting that fact made me acutely aware of just how precarious my position here was. The whole room looked so normal, yet for all intents and purposes it was effectively the vacuum of space to me. ¡°How is that possible-¡± Thacea began, only to have her line of questioning cut short by a series of three loud thumps. Each thump reverberated louder and louder as all eyes shot towards a part of the room that I could¡¯ve sworn didn¡¯t exist just a moment prior. A quick look at my HUD revealed that a small spike of radiation was detected, hinting at the fact that there was probably some magic involved with all of this. What appeared in front of us was an entire stage, elevated about 5 feet above the floor and connected to the floor via a series of levitating marble staircases. ¡°Attention! Students-to-be from the Nexus and Adjacent-realms alike! The orientation is about to commence!¡± A voice echoed throughout the room, belonging to none other than the blue robed professor who¡¯d just apparated alongside a group of 25 similarly cloaked humanoids who stood at attention behind him. Each of them seemed to belong to a different race, most seemed elvish, but a scant few stood out as draconic, and even cat-like. My eyes focused on one figure however. A tall, graceful, regal looking elf draped in a cloak that was pure white. So white in fact that I could swear it practically radiated light itself. Something told me this was more than likely the man in charge of the whole operation¡­ ¡°The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts welcomes each and every one of you.¡± The white-robed figure spoke, moving forwards to completely overshadow Vanavan. ¡°For those of you who do not know, I am Dean Altalan Rur Astur, the 2592nd dean of this Academy, and the 4th in my lineage to hold such an honor.¡± The dean continued, as the rest of the professors behind him fell in line, standing in three distinct rows, with the black-robed Mal¡¯tory and blue-robed Vanavan standing immediately behind him. ¡°Now, I expect most of you to have read up on your history, but because we are blessed with a new realmer amongst our ranks-¡± The Dean¡¯s eyes shifted towards me, and so did the entire room and three rows of professors. Thanks to the suit, no one could gauge my reactions, but underneath, I was practically melting alive. ¡°-I deem it best to provide a brief summary of the significance of this academy to the balance that is the Nexus-Realm accords.¡± ¡°In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing but the nexus itself. This Nexus however wasn¡¯t one any of us today would recognize, for it existed as a world of pure mana, where the gods existed in peace and harmony. This harmony however, was not fated to last. For out of this realm of mana came another being, a god in everything but name. His taint and miasma infected the realm, and out of this taint came sin, and out of this sin came discord, and from that came the corruption of the old gods, and the eventual war in the heavens which forever shattered the perfection that was the Old Nexus. Yet from the ashes came the seeds of new life: The Adjacent Realms, born as but an afterthought, without purpose, without direction. Conversely, forged from the wisdom of the new gods came the New Nexus, a creation of love and commitment. A commitment to forge a better world of enlightened beings. Beings which comprise up much of the Academy¡¯s faculty and staff.¡± The dean gestured to himself, and the staff which stood unflinchingly behind him. ¡°The Academy was constructed to bridge the gap that exists between the Nexus and the Adjacent realms, to teach and enlighten those with the gift of mana, and to elevate the adjacent realms from its natural tendencies of barbarism to one of civility. We exist to bring the enlightenment of the gods to the lightless.¡± The Dean¡¯s monologue was capped off with an unwavering smile, one that only grew in confidence as he went on. ¡°Students from the Nexus and Adjacent realms! By order of the Transgracia Accords of 10,092, under the blessings of all the adjacent realms and approved by the holy decree of His Majesty the King, I hereby announce the official start to this academic school year and the induction of the Class of 29,019!¡± Yet instead of the cheers and claps of any other such announcement, what I saw before me was a room filled with dread. ¡°He can¡¯t do that¡­¡± I heard several voices whisper throughout the room. ¡°The orientation still hasn¡¯t even begun.¡± A few more spoke, before silence eventually dominated the entire room. The formerly chatty and well composed crowd had all but lost their composure at that proclamation, and what¡¯s more, quite a few began to fidget with their uniforms; specifically with something hidden underneath them. Murmurs were heard from the faculty on stage as Vanavan stepped forward to the Dean, whispering something into his ear which only elicited the most dismissive of glares as he was forced back in line in the most passive aggressive way I could imagine. The whole room wreaked of something having gone terribly out of step, like the carefully choreographed and rehearsed lines of the past few minutes had been derailed without warning. ¡°So!¡± The Dean continued, the warmth in his smile was still there, yet I couldn¡¯t help but feel that it was completely out of touch with the mood in the room. ¡°Without further ado, we should get on with the ceremony of scholarly rites.¡± The tone in his voice hinted that this was a request, or something optional, yet the way he phrased it made it clear that this wasn¡¯t just a passing remark. It was a demand. A demand that had clearly spooked all of the students in the room, and had caused the few that were fidgeting with whatever it was underneath their cloaks to begin uttering murmurs that caused small localized spikes in mana-radiation around themselves. Mal¡¯tory stepped forward, his eyes gazing across each and every one of the students in the room with a piercing, almost unfeeling look of apathy as he held something in his hands. It was a leather-bound case, an object that seemed too plain to be something issued by a school that exuded wealth and extravagance. ¡°The first student who steps forward for the ceremony will receive 20 points credited to their peer-group, 30 points to their house, and 50 extra credits to whichever class they see fit.¡± Chapter 5: Oathbound I genuinely expected someone to have stepped up to the challenge almost immediately. Especially when considering what I could only assume was a generous compensation just for volunteering to be the first in line. So upon seeing absolutely no one stepping up to the plate, or even looking as if they were considering the offer, I knew then and there that something had definitely gone wrong. There were two distinct groups of students now from what I could tell, those that seemed to be fiddling, palming, or grasping at whatever lay hidden underneath their cloaks, and those that sat with a genuine look of defeat in their eyes. Ilunor wasn¡¯t any of these however as the diminutive lizard seemed to have gone into a minor frenzy upon emptying the contents of his pockets onto the table. From a pocket watch to cuff-links, and an assortment of other jewels and gems that looked as if he¡¯d recently robbed a jewelry store, it was clear he was looking for something. Something that I assumed both Thacea and Thalmin both already possessed, given how they both were likewise placing their hands nervously on what seemed to be a necklace for the former, and a sheathed dagger for the latter. It was clear that Ilunor wanted to broach a question to either Thacea or Thalmin, but couldn''t, given how no one in the room dared to raise their voices, not even to whisper amongst themselves. I could see what little complexion he had on his scaled cheeks drain to a ghostly pale green. I could also see that he didn¡¯t seem to give in just yet, as he continued fumbling with pocket after pocket, all in an attempt to find whatever it was he was looking for¡­ The situation was beyond tense, so tense in fact that my hand had drifted purposefully towards my holstered sidearm, and my HUD was just about ready to enter tactical mode as the threat assessment training kicked in hard. Mal¡¯tory¡¯s eyes throughout all of this remained steely and cold, shifting only after a good few minutes to the Dean as they exchanged a knowing glance. One that the blue robed Vanavan seemed to scowl at intently. ¡°Very well. I shall rescind the offer and begin calling out names in alphabetical-¡± ¡°Professor!¡± A voice emerged from one of the tables near the very front of the stage. There, a figure stood, draconic in appearance, somewhat resembling what I¡¯d seen in artistic renditions of reptilian humanoid aliens from way back in the late 21st century. What many at the time ridiculed as being too ¡®Gorn-like¡¯, a dismissive slight that referenced the great works of old science fiction, Star Trek in this case. Regardless, this wasn¡¯t the latex-masked or poorly rendered 3D models of some imaginary lizard¡­ but the real deal. As a result, I could actually tell that his face exuded confidence. A cautionary confidence, but confidence all the same. Which was more than I could say for the rest of the students in the room. ¡°Lord Qiv of Baralon-realm. You may speak.¡± Mal¡¯tory¡¯s attentions were now squarely focused on this lone student, which seemed to give the rest of the students some breathing room. ¡°If I may be allowed to be so brazen, I wish to accept the offer. I will be the first of my year-group to partake in the scholarly rites.¡± Qiv bowed immediately after giving his little speech, dipping his head low. A small smile crept across Mal¡¯tory¡¯s face. Not a jovial or gleeful one, but a satisfied one. A smile you¡¯d have at the start of a particularly satisfying performance review, a professional smile devoid of any personal or emotional investment. ¡°Very well Lord Qiv, please step forward.¡± Mal¡¯tory responded as the reptilian moved up towards the stage. His cape swishing to his right, revealing the rich tunic and robes he had underneath, and an amulet that he continued to palm even as he marched onto the stage. The entire room looked on in utter dread as Mal¡¯tory placed the leather-bound case upon the floor of the stage, unbinding it with just his piercing gaze alone, opening up to reveal an old hardcover book, a quill, and a small bottle of ink that glowed black. I tried adjusting my visual sensors, zooming closer into that vial of liquid that seemed to defy everything I understood about light. However as my eyes tried to fixate on the bottle of ink, the effect still remained the same. It was black, dark, yet it glowed and emanated light far brighter than any candle or glowing crystal in this room. ¡°The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts acknowledges your presence, Lord Qiv Ratom of the Baralon-realm. What say you?¡± ¡°I, Lord Qiv Ratom of the Baralon-realm, recognize the enlightened and benevolent charity of the Transgracian Academy for allowing me and my line, tutelage and education within these hallowed halls.¡± The reptilian responded, keeping his head low throughout the entire exchange. ¡°The Nexus and his Holy Majesty the King to which the Gods have bestowed the authority of sovereign, compels me as his divine agent, to grant you the rights to scholarship, under the ties that bind. Do you consent, Lord Qiv Ratom?¡± ¡°I do.¡± It was at this point that Mal¡¯tory knelt down to open the leatherbound book. As he did, I saw an impossible number of pages, far greater than what should¡¯ve been possible in that relatively small space, flip through one another, melding together like a no-clip error from a video game. It took a good few minutes of silent page flipping, with hundreds upon hundreds of pages flipped per second, before it finally landed upon a new completely empty page; still miraculously in the middle of the book. Mal¡¯tory stood back up, gesturing for the reptilian to kneel, which he did so without question. ¡°Pick up the quill, and sign your name, Lord Qiv Ratom. After which, the rights to scholarship shall be yours, and the ties that bind shall be whole.¡± Despite the confidence of the reptilian, his hand clearly shook as he grabbed that quill from its case. It looked as if it was heavier than it was supposed to be too, as he used both hands to carefully guide it into the ink, electrifying the air. The radiation levels were still hovering at around 200% above background levels, something that the suit continued to remind me with its angry alerts that I had to push to the side to avoid it obstructing my close observation of the scene currently unfolding in front of me. There was some struggle as the reptilian carefully guided the pen from the ink bottle to the pages of the book, and despite it being practically coated in the stuff, none of the ink seemed to drip. In fact, the entire quill was slowly being enveloped by the ink, stopping only at the tips of his clawed fingers as the jet-black substance seemed to ebb and flow like liquid mercury. With both hands, and a heavy breath, the reptilian finally put the quill to paper, both of his hands struggling to even move the deceptively heavy quill around, as it looked more like he was dragging it across the page, rather than writing on it. Each stroke was deliberate, each movement seemed to cause the poor student to overexert himself as his muscles strained underneath his silken tunic. It took a solid minute, but as soon as he was done, so too did I get hit with a wave of radiation. CRITICAL ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 973% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS This time however it didn¡¯t dissipate. In fact, the radiation levels rose higher and higher still¡­ CRITICAL ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 1415% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The entire room seemed to watch on in utter silence as Vanavan¡¯s face said it all: a look of utter dread. It had been a full five minutes of sitting and waiting¡­ the radiation levels pushing the limits of my suit¡¯s passive shielding before it finally started to let up. As it dropped from 1415, back to 973, all the way down to the baseline 200% it¡¯d been from the start. Qiv was breathing heavily by this point, his whole body shook as he stared back up at Mal¡¯tory, who only stared back at him with a neutral, almost casual disinterest. Without a second for Qiv to catch his breath, Mal¡¯tory picked up the book, raising it high for the entire room to see. Qiv¡¯s name glowed with the same black radiance as the ink, with an admittedly more muted glow. ¡°Lord Qiv Ratom of the Baralon-realm, henceforth you shall be known as a peer of the Transgracian Academy. Welcome to our ranks, and may the divine guide your light.¡± Mal¡¯tory spoke, before leaning in to whisper something into the lizard¡¯s pin-like ear hole. Similar to the previous instances of whispering up on stage, my LRLD couldn¡¯t seem to pick up on anything. I assumed this was a result of the professors using some sort of acoustic bubble similar to what Ilunor had used prior. ¡°Lord Qiv Ratom, as the first of your class to volunteer for the ceremony, I deem it fit to grant you the rights to choose the next two of your peers-to-be.¡± The black-robed professor continued, announcing this to the whole room who were once more put up on the chopping block. Without a second¡¯s hesitation the lizard shot his finger out to his first pick, a bear-like student who sat near the front of the stage. ¡°The Ursina.¡± He stated plainly, before narrowing his eyes in my direction, pointing directly at me. ¡°And the Earthrealmer.¡± I felt like I¡¯d just been dealt a suckerpunch, as my heart skipped a beat. I didn¡¯t know what the fuck was going on, but all I knew was that being exposed to that much radiation was a danger, regardless of whether or not the suit could handle it. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it I was spared from being the immediate next up in line however as the bear-like creature stepped forward first, crossing paths with Qiv who walked back down to take his seat. It didn¡¯t make it any better though. I was always the type to hate being the middle or the last to be called up for anything. It always ended up being more stressful that way. ¡°Uven Kroven of Alaron-realm, the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts acknowledges your presence. What say you?¡± Mal¡¯tory spoke in the same rehearsed fashion as before. Except this time it was clear he was settling more into his role, the satisfaction and flair from Qiv¡¯s ceremony was lost, now replaced with just plain and simple protocol. ¡°I, Uven Kroven of Alaron-realm, humbly submit to the benevolent and benign tutelage of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, the Nexus, and the Sovereign who reigns above us all.¡± The bear bowed deeply, even deeper than Qiv but eliciting less of a reaction from anyone on stage. ¡°The Nexus and his Holy Majesty the King to which the Gods have bestowed the authority of sovereign, compels me as his divine agent, to grant you the rights to scholarship, under the ties that bind. Do you consent, Uven Kroven?¡± Mal¡¯tory replied verbatim, all without a hint of boredom, but more so with an impartial neutrality throughout it all. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Pick up the quill, and sign your name, Uven Kroven. After which, the rights to scholarship shall be yours, and the ties that bind shall be whole.¡± The black-robed professor spoke once more without a single hitch or variance in his speech. It definitely was a ceremony. And it was clear the guy had experience with it. Maybe too much experience¡­ Yet unlike Qiv¡¯s ceremony, things started to go south the moment the bear knelt down on both knees. The quill seemed to be easier to pick up, the bear making no effort to show himself straining to lift the writing implement. The ink, whilst still glowing and spreading, didn¡¯t stop at the bear¡¯s hand¡­ but instead, enveloped him entirely. His entire form turned into a silhouette of its former self, almost like I was staring at a shadow of the man that had gone on stage. A shadow that still glowed with that sickening aura, as the bear seemed to find no difficulty in completing the ceremony. Unlike the strained movements, the fight just to reach the pages, and the deliberate strokes that Qiv had demonstrated just moments prior, the bear seemed to put pen to paper without much fuss or fanfare. In the span of a few seconds the signing was over. A spike of radiation quickly followed as I¡¯d expected, but it wasn¡¯t anywhere near the levels of the previous ceremony. CRITICAL ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 322% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS In fact, it shot down as quickly as it¡¯d gone up, returning to the baseline 200%, followed by the inky blob of a bear returning to his former form. The ink seemingly being withdrawn back into the quill, and into the pages of the book itself. I looked around, desperate to see if anyone else was reacting to this with the same shock as I was. All I saw however were faces of defeat and dejection, like everyone was expecting this. I couldn¡¯t stand it anymore, as I leaned over to Thacea, and whispered softly. ¡°What the hell¡¯s going on?¡± I managed out, to which the princess seemed hesitant to reply as Mal¡¯tory lifted the pages of the book up in the air. Once again, there was a stark difference between Qiv¡¯s signature and Uven¡¯s as the latter¡¯s signature glowed brighter and with a menacing dance of colors. ¡°Emma, I am so sorry. If we had more time we could¡¯ve helped prepare you for this.¡± The princess whispered back, her voice drenched with guilt. ¡°Prepare me for what? What the hell is all of this?¡± I shot back quickly, as the bear was starting to get up to leave the stage. ¡°The binding ceremony. They bind your soul to the pages of the yearbook. Lord Qiv and some of us are able to counter it unlike Uven. This¡­ this is how the Nexus used to do things. This is how the Nexus used to control the Adjacent realms. They take princes and nobles of adjacent realmers and-¡± ¡°Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm.¡± Mal¡¯tory¡¯s voice echoed menacingly throughout the dead silence of the room. ¡°If you would be so kind as to not hold up the rest of the year, your presence is requested. Now.¡± I shuddered in place at that, a knot quickly formed in my gut as I struggled to get up. If it wasn¡¯t for the suit¡¯s exoskeleton, I don¡¯t even think I¡¯d be able to get up from my seat. With a final look of utter desperation, the princess whispered to me, and forced out a smile. ¡°I pray that this suit of yours can dispel tier 19 spells, or perhaps somehow, is able to resist it.¡± My steps once more reverberated throughout the room. Except this time it felt even louder given how the whole room was silent and still. Each clank was preceded by a small whirr of the motors that ran seamlessly underneath the suit, probably the first sounds of any technology more advanced than simple levers and pulleys that anyone here had heard. It didn¡¯t take long before I arrived on stage, and at this point I felt my whole body shaking, ready to lose what little contents I had in my stomach. It felt weird to be up here, to be the center of attention in front of not only all the faculty and students, but Mal¡¯tory and the Dean. Their eyes seemed to be fixated on me, on my suit, and on every movement I made as the suit¡¯s height meant that I was basically staring down at them. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm, the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts acknowledges your presence. What say you?¡± Mal¡¯tory once more spoke, he kept that same neutral tone as before, except this time I could detect just the slightest hint of a nervous inflexion. I didn¡¯t know what to say. It was clear everyone else had speeches lined up for this, and every single speech had that same overtone of subservience and submission. It would be easy to just pull from what I¡¯d heard, but that would be betraying literally everything I stood for when I put on the uniform. I was a cadet, a member of the United Nations armed forces first and foremost. I couldn¡¯t care less about whatever allegiances or politics this place had. This marked the first point in my entire life where my resolve would be tested, where I would prove that the vows spoken underneath the white and blue of the UN banner meant something more than just lip service. Another thought quickly entered my head, causing me to shudder involuntarily. I knew that if push comes to shove I¡¯d never submit. I knew that I¡¯d rather die than submit to a foreign power. So as the de facto representative of humanity in this strange and alien place, I couldn¡¯t waver in my duties. I would never turn my back on my country. ¡°I, Emma Booker, am a Cadet of the United Nations¡¯ Armed Forces. Under the codes of conduct and articles of the United Nations¡¯ charter for uniformed services, I will never, under good conscience and a sound mind, surrender my loyalty to my nation, my people, and the country I serve. I will partake in your ceremony as a gesture of good will and as a demonstration of the benevolent intent of my people. I will follow the rules and regulations of your academy so long as they do not conflict with the oath I have sworn to my country. I express my desires for tutelage and for scholarship here, if you would have me.¡± I managed out without a single stutter, surprising even myself as I tried my best and tested the very limits of the IAS¡¯ classes on diplomatic dialogue. ¡°But do not mistake my cooperation for submission, for my loyalties lie with my nation, always and forever.¡± Mal¡¯tory, perhaps for the very first time, stared back at me with a look of surprise, if a single raised brow could be counted as surprise that is¡­ The man turned back to the Dean, and once more spoke without even speaking. I saw his lips move, but I didn¡¯t hear anything. After a short discussion the black-robed professor turned towards me once more, and nodded. ¡°As your journey shall be a trial of your realm¡¯s resolve, and considering your lack of understanding of our ways and the Nexus¡¯ enlightened methods, I will allow this. Now, Emma Booker of Earthrealm, pick up the quill and sign your name. After which, the rights to scholarship shall be yours, and the ties that bind shall be whole.¡± Mal¡¯tory spoke, gesturing for me to kneel, which I had to do if I was to reach for the quill and the book. My hand trembled as it reached for the quill, only stabilized by the suit¡¯s onboard systems. There weren¡¯t any warnings of radiation just yet, no localized spikes, even as I got closer and closer, until finally, I picked it up. CRITICAL ALERT: LOCALIZED SOURCE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED. CRITICAL ALERT: OBJECT WEIGHT EXCEEDING HUMAN BIOMECHANICAL STRENGTH THRESHOLD, ACTIVE ASSISTANCE MODE ENGAGED. OBJECT WEIGHT: 100 KILOGRAMS¡­ RECALIBRATING¡­ 120 KILOGRAMS¡­ RECALIBRATING¡­ 150 KILOGRAMS¡­ RECALIBRATING¡­ 200 KILOGRAMS. Whatever the quill was, it seemed like it was acting up just as it had with Qiv. Unlike the reptilian however, I¡¯d easily picked it up with one hand, acting as if nothing was amiss. This shocked the entire crowd, in fact, this was the first time I¡¯d heard a few gasps. I looked around to see the shocked expression of Vanavan, and the confused expression of the Dean. I continued despite this, dipping the quill into the ink only to see it doing the exact same thing it had done with Qiv, as it reached my hand, and stopped. It refused to envelope me further, as it had done with the bear-like student before me. It was at this point that I heard whispers and murmurs from the crowd, and a growing look of concern from most of the faculty, as I pressed on. Moving the pen over to the book, I began signing in earnest, finding that the suit¡¯s active assistance systems basically nullified any weight added on by what I assumed was magic. This made it so that signing my signature was trivial, despite the thing now weighing close to a quarter of a ton. However, as I reached the end of my signature, the thing stopped, refusing to budge as I found that the thing was stuck onto the pages of the book. CRITICAL ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 322% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS¡­ 522%... 923%... 1225%... 1925%... The number remained just shy of 2000, before finally, it crashed, going all the way back down to the 200% before I was finally able to remove the quill. I looked back to the crowd, who all stared back at me in utter confusion. Indeed, there was confusion all around as I felt no different than before. It was only when I saw the book did I realize why Mal¡¯tory and the rest of the staff had been peering over each other¡¯s shoulders to see the end result. My name was signed, but without even the slightest hint of a glowing aura. Not even Qiv¡¯s muted one. The Dean stepped forward for the first time throughout all of this, as he turned to Mal¡¯tory, speaking to him softly, and then promptly went back in line. ¡°Cadet Emma of Earthrealm.¡± Mal¡¯tory began, refusing to lift the book for the crowd as he¡¯d done with the previous two. ¡°Henceforth you shall be known as a peer of the Transgracian Academy. Welcome to our ranks, and may the divine guide your light.¡± He concluded without much fanfare as I walked off stage, and back to my table who stared at me in utter awe, except for Thacea who smiled at me in genuine relief. Chapter 6: Tainted Promises Everyone remained completely fixated on me as I marched back toward my seat with loud, unwieldy steps. Each clack of unyielding metal on hardened granite resonated across a room that seemed purposefully made to amplify every sound within it. I could practically hear the micro servos and actuators as they whirred and whizzed, accompanying each and every one of my steps. It felt like the entire world had paused just so that everyone could gawk as I retook my seat, and carefully shuffled back into place. Indeed, it was only after I¡¯d sat back down did Mal¡¯tory continue his announcements, his words however falling on deaf ears, as not a single soul wished to remove their piercing gazes from my suited form. While everyone might¡¯ve seen a stoic, unflinching, unmoving hulk of a being, completely unbothered and unfazed by the events that had just transpired, things actually couldn¡¯t be any further from the truth. I was practically melting inside of the suit. Even with the coolant systems on full blast, even with my rear-facing and side-view cameras turned off, I still couldn¡¯t shake that gut churning feeling of being the unwanted center of attention. My whole body shook with the same feeling you¡¯d get after completely making an ass of yourself at some important social function. It was maddening and all-consuming, my spiral into the pits of utter dread was just about to take another leap¡­ if it wasn¡¯t for a rogue sensation on my hand. It was the unmistakable feeling of another person¡¯s touch being transmitted via my gloves and into the undersuit beneath it. I could feel a reassuring squeeze, and the slightest bit of tickling from the feather covered appendage, which immediately clued me in to just exactly who it was that¡¯d extended this gesture of solidarity. A gesture so sorely needed when the entire world seemed more than willing to distance itself from me. ¡°Emma, don¡¯t focus on anything else, just look at me alright?¡± Thacea whispered softly, which was more than enough for my audio suite to enhance and isolate, as I dulled out all other sounds around the room to zero in on this one, single, point of focus. I could only nod in response as my two opaque lenses stared back at the avian unflinchingly. Yet despite what most would¡¯ve seen as the unfeeling eyes of a suit of armor, as Ilunor had pointed out, it was clear that she saw something else. It almost felt as if she was actually looking at me, making actual eye contact, rather than just seeing me for the helmet and lenses which would¡¯ve been a far easier thing to do. It was then that I wished I could¡¯ve de-tinted the damned lenses, to actually make eye contact. I knew that it felt like I was doing just that, but I wasn¡¯t, and worse of all¡­ I couldn¡¯t. All Thacea could see right now were two unfeeling lenses, and I hated that. Despite all the training I received, and the trial runs they¡¯d put me through, nothing could have prepared me for what was effectively a new life in an entirely alien skin. A skin that had everything I needed to survive, and then some, but one that brought with it unforeseen limitations that were only now being felt. ¡°It¡¯s over now.¡± Thacea continued, her hand squeezing my own once again, as I suddenly felt a strange warmth flooding over me. LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 120% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°And from what I can tell, you¡­ somehow managed to survive the binding ceremony. I¡­ I¡¯m relieved Emma, I really am.¡± Her voice sounded genuine, and for the briefest of moments I could swear I could see her royal facade yielding, even if it was just for those precious few seconds. A quick glance from Thalmin however seemed to have shifted the mood once more, as the princess slowly pulled her hands away from me, managing to maintain that warm avian smile that slowly but surely transitioned back into the reserved, polite facade from just moments prior. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ very glad to see you¡¯re alright, Emma.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± I finally managed out through my vocoder, as the princess tilted her head forward in response, in a way that only a royal could. ¡°Any time.¡± She whispered back, before the next roster of names were called up in a group of twenty students, with Ilunor being the last on the list.
The Grand Reception Hall Ilunor There wasn¡¯t much that the diminutive lizard could do now to prepare for what was inevitable. No amount of searching, rummaging, and double-checking could help, not when he knew when and where exactly his amulet had gone missing. I shouldn¡¯t have gone to that infernal servant¡¯s hideaway, sneaking off to watch the Earthrealmer¡¯s arrival wasn¡¯t worth it. Begging wouldn¡¯t do him any favors either, as it was clear that those that weren¡¯t prepared for the ceremony were all unceremoniously brought up like lambs to the slaughter, regardless of their rank and station. It was the Earthrealmer¡¯s fault¡­ he knew it. It was because of her that their year had been singled out like this. Yet despite being new, despite not knowing the ways of the academy, she¡¯d still managed to evade being bound. This fact infuriated him far more than he would ever be willing to admit. With his fate now uncertain, Ilunor could only look on as his time as a free soul whittled away, as he saw student after student consumed one after another by the book. That damned infernal artifact finally getting its fill, with his soul next in line for the chopping block. ¡°Lord Ilunor.¡± An expressionless voice echoed around the Vunerian, causing him to flick his head around in an attempt to determine its source. ¡°You are to make your way to the coat room immediately. There, you will find what you seek. The faculty will not interfere with your temporary absence for this short duration, but you must make haste, lest you miss this golden opportunity.¡± The voice warned, prompting the Vunerien to turn around to everyone at the table. Not a single soul present seemed to have reacted to that voice, indicating to him that it was, indeed, the telepathic voice of some third party. A third party that had some serious sway given the magic involved in direct mental communication. ¡°I¡¯ll be back. I just need to use the washroom.¡± Ilunor scooted backwards, promptly excusing himself much to the confused expressions of everyone at the table. ¡°Can he do that?¡± Emma inquired, with the only response from the table being Thalmin¡¯s disinterested shrug.
The Coat Room Ilunor Everyone knew where it was, everyone used its services, but no magic user: student, faculty, staff, or otherwise, would ever stoop to such a low as to enter its doors to muddy themselves with the servants that lie therein. The room was just adjacent to the Grand Hall, across in a small unmarked corridor and rarely trafficked by anyone that didn¡¯t explicitly require the services of a servant. The air inside was hot, heavy, and humid. The acrid smells of harsh alchemical cleaning potions and artificed steam implements dominated the air, all byproducts of an unwavering need for coats and cloaks to be made wrinkle-free in between classes and scheduled activities. Ilunor could see several of the lesser elven slaves as they marched back and forth, lugging cartload after cartload of supplies and cloaks alike, the sight alone made him gag in disgust. He stood there for a good minute, waiting, and panting in place as the heat slowly got to him. Whoever this other person was, they were making it clear just who was in control here. It was a power move to make him wait in a place like this, even more so with time rapidly running out in the Grand Hall. Yet just as he felt his time dwindling into nothing, and just as his anxieties were ready to peak, he heard a muffled, purposeful cough. One that beckoned him forwards toward an empty clearing in a sea of moving cloths, meeting face to face with the last person he expected to be behind all of this. A lowly lesser elf. A creature that, despite the Vunerian¡¯s own height-challenged stature, was barely able his waist. Dressed in nothing but what amounted to a worn-out potato sack, draping and concealing a frail emaciated body, the lesser elf looked as if he could be blown away by the smallest gust of wind. ¡°What is the meaning of-¡± ¡°Master Ilunor Rularia.¡± The lesser elf slave spoke, cutting the Vunerian off in his tracks. ¡°I have what you seek.¡± The slave quickly rummaged through his hole-ridden rucksack, producing an item that was probably worth a hundred, maybe even a thousand of his kin; a medallion encrusted with diamond and sapphire that formed the centerpiece of a dazzling gold and silver bracelet. The Vunerian reached for it instinctively, only to have the object of his desires pulled away from him. Holding onto the amulet with a vice grip, the slave shot him a glare that could only be described as predatory in nature. This completely threw Ilunor off guard, as the slave took the opportunity to continue unchallenged. ¡°Patience, master. A Vunerien of your caliber should understand that every exchange is a transaction is it not?¡± The slave shot back with the slightest hint of a cocky, confident inflection, clashing harshly with an otherwise submissive, disheveled appearance. ¡°Are you trying to extort me with my own possessions, slave?¡± Ilunor finally shot back, a hiss present in his voice as he stepped forward, attempting to reassert himself in the conversation. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Of course not master. I am simply an arbitrator returning a misplaced item. It is not I who wishes for this transaction.¡± The slave retorted, standing perfectly still with his back completely straight, a rare if not entirely unheard of sight which sent shivers down the Vunerian¡¯s back. ¡°Then who? Who in the name of the Gods and Goddesses is your puppet-master? I demand to know.¡± Ilunor managed out, in between a nervous tic and an enraged hiss. ¡°I am not privy to disclose that information, master. I am however pressed to inform you that you have less than one minute to agree to the terms set forth.¡± A quick glance to the mana-based timepiece within Ilunor¡¯s coat pocket confirmed this as he dipped his head down for the briefest of moments. ¡°What do you want?¡± Ilunor sighed in defeat. ¡°There will be no need for any monetary or physical transactions. Merely¡­ an agreement. One that you must accept prior to the return of your amulet.¡± The elf produced another object from his rucksack, a small letter sealed with a magical aura. One that, to the elf¡¯s credit, could not be opened except for the intended receiver. ¡°Is this a letter of binding?¡± Ilunor hissed out, as the elf merely smiled in response. ¡°No it is not. It is merely a letter with terms and agreements you must agree to if you wish to regain possession of this amulet-¡± ¡°Enough with the games, slave, I accept!¡± Ilunor reached out to snatch both the letter and the amulet from his hands. He expected a wave of magic to wash over him, for the telltale signs of some binding spell to take hold of him¡­ but nothing came. All he felt was the slight aura of a spell of discretion. What was unnerving however was how it had been penned and sealed to him so quickly. These things usually took hours, if not a full day to complete¡­ The spell of discretion meant that the contents of this letter was squarely between him and this mysterious benefactor. At least he had the comfort of knowing that this literal blackmail was a confidential matter. He would worry about it later however, for now he was satisfied, relieved by the fact that he would be spared the loss of his soul to that damned artifact. He tucked the letter into one of his pockets, and secured the amulet and its chain to his wrist. Without even glancing back to the slave, he began taking his leave, only for the slave to leave him with a few parting words that echoed throughout the coat room. ¡°I suggest you read that letter post-haste, but should you fail to do so, just know that your most critical task is to keep an eye on the Earthrealmer. My master shall be in touch, Lord Ilunor.¡± Ilunor didn¡¯t wish to pay the slave any more attention than had already been given as he stormed out of the coat room, sprinting his way back to the Grand Hall as he tried his very best not to overthink whatever backhanded game he was being forcefully thrust into.
The Grand Reception Hall Emma Booker ¡°Right, but what I don¡¯t understand is how my resistance to the soul binding ceremony is any different from your methods-¡± ¡°Because you didn¡¯t dispel the binding spell, you resisted it. You resisted it even when it climbed all the way up to tier 19, something that shouldn¡¯t be possible. Mana resistance at such a state is unheard of. Everyone else here has amulets of dispelling, it dispels spells in their tracks before it reaches a high enough level to have an effect, while you just ignored it. That¡¯s it.¡± Thalmin responded with a rough whisper, something that I was surprised he was able to do. The man was blunt, and clearly didn¡¯t mince his words, but I found that spoke more to his good character than anything. I¡¯d rather have a candid and rude partner, than a polite but deceptive one any day of the week. What little conversation we did have was cut short by Ilunor¡¯s return. His scurrying and scampering made for a welcome break from what was becoming a depressing, morbid repetition of callousness and cruelty. Seventeen students so far had been ¡®processed¡¯ by this ceremony, and only half of them seemed to have survived ¡®intact¡¯. I tried prying more out of Thacea and Thalmin, but the pair made it clear that talking during the ceremony, especially one that was uncharacteristically timed and aggressive, wasn¡¯t the best idea. Ilunor¡¯s timely arrival was quickly interrupted however by his name being called, as the Vunerian made his way up onto the stage with a renewed sense of confidence that was lacking before his trip to the washroom. Perhaps he took a swig of liquid courage, or perhaps he found whatever it was he was looking for. My scanners didn¡¯t detect anything new about him however, but then again, it seemed to have difficulty picking up the magical artifacts that Qiv, Thacea, and Thalmin seemed to have on them; these so-called ¡®amulets of dispelling¡¯. I knew however, that it would only be a matter of time before I¡¯d be able to sniff out these artifacts more effectively than an e-hound tracking down cargo at a spaceport. It was just a waiting game now, of exposing my EVI to more and more datasets to aggregate and analyze. The intricacies behind the program was way above my paygrade, but the EVI was described to me as a ¡®mobile lab¡¯, a program whose sole purpose was to make sense of the fantasy around me. It was to constantly monitor, running idly in the background of my suit¡¯s systems like some creepy UNCIA-grade software constantly monitoring every little sensor module the team had tacked onto my suit, as it carved out its observations of the world around me in a way that I just wasn¡¯t qualified enough to do. At least that¡¯s what the eggheads back at the IAS told me. Indeed, they had entire lectures on how the suit¡¯s deep-learning program worked, but a lot of the stuff just flew over my head. I wasn¡¯t a computer engineering prodigy after all, let alone a leading AI specialist. Regardless, what they taught me was at least enough to grasp the basics of it, enough that I would be able to troubleshoot it if anything went wrong. Couple this with the manuals and instruction booklets they downloaded to my local library, and I was confident that when the time did come, I would be able to use this overly engineered program to the best of my abilities. Especially when it came to the potential for sciencing the shit out of this magic business. They explicitly went out of their way to remind me that it wasn¡¯t a true AI however. An understandable distinction to make given how almost everyone was still uneasy about the topic, especially after what happened during the Charon Innovations incident. AI or not, I was glad that there was at least a backup in case a proper line of communication back home wasn¡¯t viable. At least this way there was still some way to scientifically break down the mysteries of this place. I tapped my head a few times to see if the program was running, which of course, it was. It¡¯d been gathering data from before I even entered the portal. I made sure it was paying close attention now as I watched Ilunor¡¯s ceremony commence, and I once again settled into that anxious anticipation to see if we¡¯d be spending the rest of the year with a zombie, or the same rude lizard that I¡¯d come to resent. Come to think of it, maybe a soulbound zombie would be a marginal improvement for the Vunerian¡­ The seconds ticked by as Mal¡¯tory repeated the exact same words he had done for the past half hour or so now. The real test however was when Ilunor reached for the quill and¡­ Found it basically impossible to lift. A wave of relief washed over me, but I knew he wasn¡¯t out of the woods yet. The diminutive lizard took a few good minutes to slowly lift the quill into the ink bottle, repeating the same scene as Qiv and the other amulet-wielding students had done before finally, ending it with the exact same motions. With a full five minutes of struggling just to etch his name into the paper, and a prolonged burst of mana, the lizard had completed the ritual. Looking back towards Thacea and Thalmin, it was clear that the lizard had done it. Indeed, it became clear to me now that the rest of the ceremony would just be a repeat of the same nail-biting experiences for every student. However, because our group seemed to all have their amulets at the ready, I rested easy knowing that we were safe from this whole binding ritual. Indeed, as the hours went by, and Thalmin¡¯s turn was up it looked as if the whole drama with the ceremony was coming to an end. The Lupinor prince¡¯s ceremony was practically identical to Ilunor¡¯s, Qiv¡¯s, and every other amulet-wielding student. There was no doubt in my mind Thacea would fall into this same pattern. At least, that¡¯s what I thought until the avian stepped up to the plate. The ceremony started out simply enough, Mal¡¯tory repeating his vows, and Thacea giving her small little speech on her place here at the academy. It was only when she knelt down to the floor however did things start to noticeably shift. ¡°Tainted one. Do you understand your presence here defiles the hallowed halls of this great academy? That your vessel acts as a shell for a great evil which lurks within your soul? Do you understand that as your Professors, we are obligated to act in your best interest, and should you succumb to your evils and vices, we shall have no choice but to strike you down, condemning your soul to eternal captivity within the tainted vaults of the Nexus?¡± My eyes went wide at this, as I was tempted to stand up from my seat, only to have the Lupine hold me in place. The man glared at me, forcing me to relent. I could¡¯ve easily overpowered him of course, but this entire situation was too sensitive for me to intervene with a simple wave of a pistol. I had to keep watching, but my hand never left the butt of my gun. ¡°I do, your grace.¡± Thacea dipped her head low, far lower than any other student had done thus far, so low in fact that I could¡¯ve sworn she was kissing Maltory¡¯s feet. A feeling of abject disgust filled me. ¡°Then sign your name and be done with this ceremony. Prove to us here and now that the taint has not corrupted your soul.¡± Mal¡¯tory continued, handing her another quill from within his cloak. The avian complied unquestioningly, and as she touched the quill a surge of mana radiation bellowed out, causing my alarms to blare with an entirely new warning. ALERT: UNSTABLE SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED: 593% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS¡­ WARNING ANOMALY DETECTED¡­ RECALIBRATING¡­ RECALIBRATING¡­ ERROR! DETECTING 29 + 1 DISTINCT TYPES OF MANA-RADIATION. My eyes grew wide at that as I ripped the datapad from my backpack and began running diagnostics. I ignored the ceremony, ignored the world around me as I rushed to see if this was even possible. The error messages were popping up everywhere now, so I did the only thing I knew might just work. A hard reboot. REBOOTING¡­ REINITIALIZING¡­ SCANNING¡­ ALERT: UNSTABLE SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED: 795% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS. I ran another diagnostics check, which revealed¡­ nothing. It was as if the error was just that, an error. There were no anomalies detected, no new mystery mana-radiation that was unaccounted for. I chalked it up to just the system being as new to this place as I was, so there were more than likely plenty of bugs to be had within the code that needed to be patched. At least, that¡¯s what I hoped as I continued running diagnostic after diagnostic, all reaching the same conclusion. If it had been a new type of radiation. I¡¯d be a pile of liquefied human now¡­ right? Thacea¡¯s ceremony continued despite my panicked worries, and to my horror I also saw steam emerging from the stage. Zooming in closer, the steam seemed to have been localized to the hand she currently held the quill with. This wouldn¡¯t last for long however before she too managed to sign the book. However, similar to my own ceremony, Mal¡¯tory refused to pick up the book to display it back to the crowd. He simply kept it there, as the Dean took a good look at it and nodded in approval. ¡°Princess Thacea Dilani of Aetheronrealm, henceforth you shall be known as a peer and a ward of the Transgracian Academy. Welcome to our ranks, and may the divine guide your light.¡± The Princess nodded, her whole body shaking as she didn¡¯t immediately leave the stage, instead being ushered towards the red-robed professor from before who casted a spell on her injured hand which glowed a brilliant green. LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The older woman smiled and patted the princess on the head, before wrapping her hand up in a bandage and sending her back to our table. It was clear this entire ordeal had taken a lot out of the princess. So now, it¡¯d be my turn to be the one giving her the reassurances she sorely needed. Chapter 7: All Talk and No Food Thacea¡¯s return was marked by a similar reception I had just experienced not a few hours prior. However, instead of bewildered and confused expressions, what I mostly saw were looks of utter disgust and abject horror. It was as if they were staring at some unseen monster hovering above Thacea, rather than her actual form. Having seen behind-the-scenes productions of heavily CGI-laden films, it looked as if they were all staring at a monster or a ghostly apparition that would be added later in post. Except this wasn¡¯t a film set, nor was it fiction. All of this, every second of every minute of this situation I found myself thrust into, was real. So I had to assume there was some reason behind them staring above her, rather than at her. Despite all of this I ignored the crowds and the rest of the room, as my whole world was once more squarely placed on the avian. My first action as she sat back was to make sure she was alright as I reached out my hands towards hers, mirroring the same comforting gesture she¡¯d done for me. There wasn¡¯t any sense of obligation, nor any sense of debt being repaid here. It was an outright sense of genuine empathy and compassion that just felt right to do. ¡°Thacea? Are you alright? Are you hurt?¡± I spoke, as my hands came into contact with her own. This clearly elicited some sort of a reaction as the avian¡¯s feathers puffed up for the briefest of moments. ¡°I¡¯m quite alright Emma, please, there is no need to bring more attention to this situation then there needs to be.¡± She spoke in that same polite, admittedly aloof tone that I¡¯d come to expect from royalty after binging shows like Inside The Palace and The Crown IX. ¡°Are you sure, you¡¯re sure? Because I-¡± ¡°Princess.¡± Thalmin leaned in close for a whisper, completely cutting me off, as he elicited Thacea¡¯s full attention. The princess cocked her head towards him in an almost pigeon-like manner in response. ¡°Your mana-miasma is showing. Please keep it under control while we are still in public.¡± The Princess seemed to be even more visibly shaken by this as she nodded sheepishly, closing her eyes and clenching her fists tight. ¡°What-¡± I attempted to speak, but was shushed by the Lupine who continued to watch the Princess with great intent. ¡°Are you blind, Earthrealmer?¡± Ilunor suddenly snapped at me as it was clear there was something else going on here. Something that my radiation scanners simply wasn¡¯t picking up. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m not following.¡± I replied plainly, turning to Ilunor with an unamused frown hidden under my helmet. ¡°Play dumb, just play dumb Earthrealmer, it¡¯s sure to get you places.¡± The lizard continued, prompting me to suppress any and all desires to punt him across the room. ¡°I¡¯ll bite, I¡¯ll appease this little game of innocence and wanton lack of situational awareness. The Princess, just look at her.¡± He pointed to Thacea. ¡°Her mana-field, you see it, or heck if you¡¯re one of the lesser species, you can still feel it can¡¯t you? That radiance? The multicolored glow? Now, look above that, don¡¯t you see the darkness? The shadows? Yes Earthrealmer, look, look, you see it now? Do you feel the ice cold sensation on your skin when you stare at it long enough?¡± Ilunor¡¯s words were even more spiteful than before. It once again took everything within me to not ruin his day, or perhaps his semester for good, but self control was vital¡­ I had to empathize. The man did almost get soul-bound or whatever. There was latent stress here, so I got it. In fact, quite ironically, this was the most solid piece of intel I got so far on this taint situation. So maybe I had to thank the lizard for his blunt explanation. Not that I would of course. This was far from a thank you sort of situation. The IAS¡¯ self-control and situational awareness classes were really coming in handy now. ¡°Alright.¡± I responded simply, nodding, without really expressing myself in any other way. Looking back at Thalmin and Thacea, the wolf seemed to be eying this invisible mana-field taint with great intensity. The princess, for what it was worth, seemed to be in deep concentration, her face similar to someone trying their best to calm down from a panic attack. I didn¡¯t want to interfere just yet, not when it was clear that both Thacea and Thalmin seemed to be in the middle of getting whatever this was under wraps. So I shifted my gaze back onto the stage. Or rather, I turned on one of my helmet¡¯s side-view cameras, so that I could see both Thacea and the stage simultaneously. With no further names being called I had expected the faculty and professors to have shuffled away, but they didn¡¯t. In fact, they continued to remain on stage as it seemed as if they were preoccupied with the book. The book was brought to the very center of the stage and placed on a stark-white plinth which glowed brilliantly. The professors quickly crowded around it in a perfect circle, proceeding to whisper amongst themselves as they discussed the pages in length, flipping through each one, pointing and violently tapping at a few. This seemed to cause Thacea increasing anxiety as evidenced by her shaking form, but I held my hand firm against hers, squeezing it gently. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s fine. It¡¯s over alright? Your magic thing probably did the trick, I¡¯m sure of it.¡± I spoke, confident, yet clearly lacking in the ability to really say anything for certain. This seemed to calm the Princess down somewhat, as her feathers flattened, and her expression softened. Thalmin moved away for a moment, his eyes narrowing just above Thacea, and nodded. ¡°Alright, you¡¯re fine. I can¡¯t see any more of the taint.¡± He eyed me, then Thacea, and seemed to do a quick double-take. ¡°Just don¡¯t let the Earthrealmer become your anchor, Princess. I suppose this is just a coincidence but, I¡¯d recommend personal due diligence.¡± Thalmin spoke with a certain level of concern, as the Princess reciprocated with a heady nod. ¡°I have my own training, Thalmin, thank you. There¡¯s no need for speculation or over-analysis. This was just an outlier of a situation, and it¡¯s now over. Let us focus instead on what¡¯s to come.¡± The Princess gestured at the stage, yet made no effort to remove her hand from my own. ¡°Anchor?¡± I parroted back, garnering a masked look of embarrassment from Thacea as she moved to speak but was cut off by a loud, booming voice from the stage. The professors were clearly done deliberating, and the book now placed back into its unassuming container. ¡°With the rites of scholarship completed, and the ties having successfully been bound, it is time for orientation to commence.¡± Mal¡¯tory spoke, taking a few steps back further and further into the crowd of professors, before disappearing entirely from view. A spike of mana-radiation proved that something mana-related had happened, what I would assume was some sort of a teleportation spell. The Dean finally stepped forward after being in Mal¡¯tory¡¯s shadow for most of the ceremony. He stood tall, confident, unshaken by the recent turn of events and maintained that reassuring smile he held throughout everything. ¡°With the recent unexpected developments involving the ceremony, it will be reassuring to know that scarcely anything has changed for the orientation. So let us begin. This great day of matriculation marks the first steps into your grand adventure into the world of the magical arts. As is customary however, a grace period of five days is provided between the moment you pass through the portals and the day your first classes start. The Academy is nothing if not concerned about the health and safety of our students, and we understand that with the disparate mana-potentials of each realm, a period of adjustment is required before we begin any magical studies in any meaningful capacity. So consider your next five days a period of respite.¡± ¡°Mana-sickness exists, no matter what your parents have told you.¡± The Red robed professor piped up from the back row. ¡°There is no richer concentration of mana than the Nexus, so your mana-fields will need time to adjust. Common symptoms of acute mana-field adjustment sickness include nausea, vomiting, dizziness, intermittent loss of consciousness, and profound precognition. But this should pass in about 3-4 days. You are after all, the best of the best. That¡¯s why your realms sent you. So your mana-field resilience is not in question. Still, I recommend none of you treat this as a competition. There is no great honor in comparing mana-field adaptability. Any activities which misappropriates the Academy¡¯s on-site mana-pool for the purposes of childish escapades will be punished severely. Now, I¡¯ll let our great Dean continue.¡± ¡°Thank you, Professor Belnor.¡± The Dean nodded graciously at the red robed professor. ¡°Now, onto more pertinent matters. As all of you may already know, we have a total of 4 houses within the Academy, and unlike what most may claim, every house is on equal footing to win the Annual House Cup. So do not be discouraged on which house you are assigned to. House sorting will commence within the end of the 5-day grace period with a series of trials which shall be specified within the coming days. After which, you shall remain in your assigned house until the end of the academic year, where you have the ability to change houses should you wish to do so. Now, each House consists of 5 peer-groups. Each peer-group consists of 4-5 individuals per group. Those seated at your tables will be your peer-groups for the entirety of your 5 years at the academy. This will not be changed, barring exceptional circumstances.¡± The Dean took a moment to clear his throat, before continuing. ¡°With House matters out of the way, let us move to matters of accommodations and quality of life. Each peer-group shall be assigned a single dormitory, each dormitory shall consist of at least 2-3 bedrooms. Dormitories are assigned at random per peer-group, and students are encouraged to arrange matters of in-dorm room assignments on their own. The faculty respects the right to personal autonomy and decision making of all students after all.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe I was hearing that from the mouth of a man who had just soul-bound a quarter of the students in the room. The fact he was saying it with such¡­ sincerity as well bothered me more than it should have. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°You can expect no less than 3 meals a day, you may choose to eat in the dining hall, or choose from a selection of room-serviced partial course meals with the exception of weekday lunches. Additional food services however shall be available around the clock, such is the privilege expected for the best and brightest in the Nexus and Adjacent realms.¡± Now this was certainly an upgrade from what I expected of college life¡­ ¡°Now onto academic matters. As Year 1 students, your curriculum is primarily focused around magic-theory. However, practical application is still expected, and will be part of your passing criterion on your tests and examinations. As first-years, your classes shall be taught in the Grand Lecture Halls, as all students will follow the same schedule and core subjects. Electives are commonly started in the second year and are not recommended for First Years, however, should you believe yourself capable, you are free to inquire about the addition of electives anytime during the first semester. First years will have a total of two teaching blocks per day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Though an extra third teaching block for night-time magic lessons will be necessary for a few classes. There are ten subjects you will have to master in your first year: Magic Theory and Mana-field Studies taught by Professor Vanavan, Nexus and Adjacent Realm History and Politics taught by Professor Articord, Potions Theory, Potions Crafting, and Healing Magic taught by Professor Belnor, Mana-Field Perception and Light-Magic Theory taught by Professor Mal¡¯tory, and finally Physical Education taught by Professor Chiska.¡± The Professors in question stepped forward. Vanavan I¡¯d already met, the blue robed professor. Same went for Professor Belnor, the red-robed professor. However Professor Chiska and Articord were new. Articord looked to be a fox-like creature, as far as I could tell at least given her robes covered most of her snouty face. Chiska however was¡­ honestly what I expected of a magical PE teacher. First of all, she was a literal cat-person. Secondly, her robes were tailored in such a way that she could easily jump from the stage and straight up to the chandeliers if she wanted to. In addition, she was also the only professor present to be beaming out a wide, welcoming smile to all the students. Vanavan smiled too of course, but his was too polite of a smile to be compared to the likes of Chiska. I liked her already. ¡°It will not surprise most of you to know that the Academy does not allow you to return to your respective realms over the Summer or Winter holidays.¡± The Dean continued, eliciting a few tired sighs from the crowd that were quickly silenced by a short shush from the red-robed professor. ¡°You will, however, be able to return for a total of 3 weeks in the transition period between end of Year 1 and the start of Year 2. Provided of course that you do pass the course. If not, you shall remain here for remedial courses, but that shall be a topic of discussion for another time.¡± The Dean paused as if to emphasize his point, before moving on just as quickly. ¡°Your summer and winter holidays shall instead consist of community service. As graduates of the Transgracian Academy we pride ourselves not only in the understanding of the fine arts, but likewise its practical implementation in real world situations. We must understand the people we preside and rule over, and as a result, we require at least 200 hours of active service in the guilds and adventuring halls in the lands of the Nexus. Here, you will put into practice your theory and training amongst the honorable, chivalrous, and reputable heroes which grace our lands. There are no restrictions as to the utilization of your magical arts during these 200 hours. We wish to see students demonstrate their magical and martial potential to the best of their abilities. Nothing is off limits, save for loyalty to the crown of course, but that goes without saying.¡± The Dean paused, as if waiting for one of the professors to interject. To which the excitable Chiska, did without any prompting. ¡°And I¡¯ll be in charge of the community service and outreach program! So if any of you kids want to get a head-start, feel free to drop by my office! I have a large portfolio of guild halls, adventuring parties, and more, scattered across at least 2700 out of the 3579 Kingdoms, Duchies, Principalities, Leagues, and Empires of the Nexus! So there¡¯s definitely something for everyone! Ever wanted to sail the 900 seas to slay a great leviathan of the waves? Now you can! Ever wanted to do the Crown¡¯s work and eliminate a rogue wizard gathering forces for a rebellion? Well here¡¯s your chance! Ever wanted to just slay a dragon?¡± The whole room went quiet at that, a few students even admonishing this very notion amongst themselves. ¡°I¡¯m serious, it¡¯s been over 2000 years since our last dragon slayer, and I¡¯ll be damned if I end my tenure without presiding over at least one more!¡± The Professor continued. ¡°It takes a special person to slay a dragon, and I can name all of the 98 alumni who have, off the top of my head. Each of them have become legends not just within the Academy¡¯s walls, but beyond. So if you want to join the gilded alumni of the Academy, this is also your chance!¡± The professor¡¯s attitude remained that same jovial, excitable one throughout, only pausing just for a moment to lower her voice in a clear attempt to emphasize this next point. ¡°Also, if you¡¯re in a bit of a tough spot with your grades, this may just be the thing to pick it up, just saying¡­¡± She spoke with a wink. ¡°Anyways, the possibilities are endless! So if you ever want to get a head start on your summer and winter outreach programs, feel free to drop by my office anytime!¡± The cat spoke, or rather, shouted, brimming with infectious energy. ¡°Thank you, Professor Chiska. Your enthusiasm for our community outreach programs have never been in question, so please, there is nothing to prove now.¡± The Dean finally interjected, as he cleared his throat. ¡°Now, I understand that some students are on the less adventurous side of things. We have local outreach programs to our neighboring town of Elaseer, where less adventurous opportunities such as bookkeeping and skilled apprenticeship opportunities are plentiful.¡± Ah, so there it is. The easy way out to the more posh and spoiled of the student roster. I guess I half expected that. The Dean glanced back towards Vanavan, nodding once before turning back to the crowd to continue. ¡°All students are reminded that despite classes not officially starting until the end of the five day grace period, that there are still tasks that must be completed beforehand. A letter detailing all of these tasks shall be handed out to you shortly. However, I am pressed to inform you that tomorrow shall be the titular weapons inspection day. So for those of you who have crossed the portal dressed in ceremonial garb armed with ceremonial weapons, you have until the stroke of midnight tomorrow to declare your weapons and have them assessed by the school¡¯s armorer.¡± A genuine sense of concern flooded me at that announcement. Whilst the IAS¡¯ plan did include divulging the existence of my sidearm as a ceremonial weapon, the extent to which I had to explain, or perhaps even demonstrate it was not discussed in the sparse instructions we received from the Academy before my arrival. Indeed, like most of the intel we were fed from the Nexus, it was written with no elaboration. I guess this was where my personal initiative came in. This concludes the orientation. All students shall now be permitted to retire to their dorms as they please, or stay for the late-night banquet!¡± With those parting words, the stage simply vanished, there wasn¡¯t even a goodbye, a bow, or anything. What was once a solid structure of marble and granite simply disappeared, replaced by the same bare walls and large floor to ceiling windows that had been there prior to its apparition. I could review the logs, see if my sensors corroborated what I saw, but at this point I couldn¡¯t give another fuck about this place¡¯s shenanigans. I was tired, and I could feel the last of my brain cells starting to fade into nothing as I felt as if an entire edition¡¯s worth of DnD of material had been crammed down my throat in a matter of hours. Food sounded great at this point as I saw platters of cloch-covered dishes arrive at our table in a grand display of opulence. Each domed cloche was polished to perfection, so much so that I could see my reflection off of all these surfaces. A quick scan revealed no magic was involved, so this must have taken some serious work to prepare. With a swift removal of each of the cloches by the likes of Thalmin, whose maw had begun to hang open wildly, we were greeted to an array of dishes that belonged not just in a Michelin star restaurant but an honest to god actual state dinner. From a beautifully seared sea bass with crispy skin drizzled in herbaceous chili oil, to steaks that had been beautifully cut and seared to perfection dripping in a mixture of its own juices and some red-wine reduction, to the centerpiece of it all¡­ a massive turkey whose skin was browned to perfection. A verifiable garden¡¯s worth of grilled vegetables marinated in the turkey¡¯s juices surrounded it like a work of art. Each vegetable hung on its own little tiered platter and spun slowly in place. I instinctively took in a deep breath, expecting to take in the familiar and new aromas, my mind expecting the cold evening nights just before Christmas with those roast dinners, or the family gatherings on Thanksgiving with the sumptuous smells of root vegetables, herbs, and turkey blending together¡­ I expected so much. But all I got was filtered air, the same filtered air I had been breathing since I put on the suit. My heart practically dropped. I felt my whole body violently rejecting what I was sensing as I felt the olfactory equivalent of vertigo. I was seeing the food in front of me, but I couldn¡¯t smell any of it. I took another deep breath out of spite, and smelled that same filtered air, the same air you¡¯d find within the pressurized hull of an aircraft or a space-plane. I stared at the food once more, this time in a fit of anger and frustration, as Thacea seemed to have taken it upon herself to serve me a sampler platter of all of the bountiful masterpieces right in front of me. I looked down in utter dejection, holding a fork in my hand, and picking up that delectable slice of turkey, only to place it back down on the table. ¡°Is the food not to your liking, Emma? I understand sometimes cuisines from other realms may be quite different.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡± I answered back meekly. ¡°Oh? Is it- Ah¡­I¡­ My sincerest apologies Emma I-¡± The princess suddenly caught on to my situation. Probably remembering what I casually told her about my¡­ condition. I couldn¡¯t blame her though. It¡¯s not like she had any social training for table manners with a human wearing power armor to a magic school. ¡°It¡¯s fine. It¡¯s fine¡­ It¡¯s not your fault.¡± I tried to reply back politely as I rummaged through one of my pouches, producing a small tube of nutripaste that I glared with a level of disdain I¡¯d never felt before in my entire life. ¡°I packed my own dinner¡­¡± I could really go dragon hunting right to relieve some stress right about now. Chapter 8: Cultural Differences Things progressed rather quickly after the end of the orientation. In fact, a lot of things seemed to have been expedited for the sake of getting us out of the dining hall and into our dorms as quickly as possible; all without actually saying it of course. The lights around us slowly dimmed after the first few courses of food were served, and as the desserts finally came through, so too did these individualized letters arrive on similarly posh silver platters. Each letter was sealed in an envelope that was custom made for each of us, with different colors, designs, and even a custom wax seal that I¡¯d only seen on period-dramas and movies. My letter however was particularly bland, a starch-white paper that was devoid of any detailing or embellishments, save for my name written on it in stunning cursive and capped off with a plain, unmarked wax seal. Thacea seemed to have taken notice of my hesitation with the letter, as everyone else had already started unsealing them and reading the contents within. ¡°Do not think much of the lack of sigils and regalia, Emma. You¡¯re a newrealmer, so a lack of any identifying markings is to be expected. With time, as the Academy learns more about you, your customs, your people, and your house, I¡¯m more than certain that you will find such official correspondences to be tailored to fit your personal honor.¡± The avian attempted to reassure me, completely missing the point, but much to her credit reinforcing my assumptions of the Academy. This place wanted to extract as much intel out of me as I was planning to do from it. Things were bound to evolve into an interesting game of cat and mouse, but first, I wanted to see what awaited me inside of this mystery envelope. After unsealing the wax, I was met with a high quality parchment with what I assumed was the Academy¡¯s insignia at its header: two keys crossed diagonally with a wand and book superimposed in the middle, mimicking the titular medieval heraldry of a sword and shield. Within the letter were the contents of the entire orientation summed up in a mini-syllabus, which puzzled me as there didn¡¯t seem to be any new information within the lone piece of A4 parchment. That was, until my finger had traced down to the bottom of the letter, at which point the meticulously crafted calligraphy of the page suddenly melted. LOCALIZED SOURCE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The text that had been written in what I assumed was ink simply de-materialized, then melted, before reforming into new letters and words like an unnecessarily complicated slide transition on a PowerPoint presentation. Eventually forming an entirely new page of information. ¡°Heh, surprised Earthrealmer?¡± Ilunor suddenly piped up after noticing my extended staring. I didn¡¯t know how else he would¡¯ve gauged my reaction given the helmet, so this was more than likely just a provocation made out of spite or some underlying prejudice. I half expected this though given his attitude from before. ¡°What about?¡± I snapped back, too tired to argue, but also too annoyed to really let that comment slide. ¡°You know, I understand the desire to save face. I really do. But you don¡¯t really need to do so in front of us. We¡¯re your peer group after all, and it¡¯s important for us to know what you have and what you lack in your realm. Newrealmers are generally more¡­ primitive in their predispositions. Seeing text move across parchment must be new to you¡­ indeed, seeing the written word at all must be an entirely new concept for most of your kind for sure.¡± The diminutive lizard spoke with that same inflated sense of self worth and ego. One that I couldn¡¯t help but to narrow my eyes at despite knowing it wouldn¡¯t be picked up by anyone around me, let alone the lizard. It was at this point that I had a choice to make. I either ignored the discount kobold and continued on reading. Or, I smacked him upside the head with my data-tab just to show him just what moving text actually looked like. The latter would¡¯ve been quite effective too, given the fact that I was assigned a milspec data-tab. So unlike most tablets in the commercial market that prioritized sleekness, thinness, and style all the while sacrificing resilience, milspec tablets still very much resembled the bulky electronic hardware of the 28th, 25th, 23rd, heck, even the early 21st century. It was designed with ruggedness and survivability in mind, so I knew that smacking the lizard upside the head with it would certainly do more damage to him than the tablet itself. I decided on a compromise however, as I wordlessly grabbed my tablet from my belt, turned it towards the lizard, and began scrolling through some of the open tabs I had. Making sure the screen was set to maximum brightness on light mode, and to scroll as fast as possible as tens of pages flew by with each flick of my finger. I only did this for a short moments to prove my point of course, but the reaction I garnered from Ilunor was nothing short of worth it. His mouth hung agape, his pupils constricted from the blinding light, as his whole body seemed to tense as he tried to speak but found himself unable to do so. Stuttered words emerged from his gaping maw, but all of them were quickly shushed by the likes of Thalmin who seemed more annoyed by the lizard¡¯s antics than anything. ¡°B-but the Earthrealmer, they, that¡­ what¡­ what was¡­ that¡¯s not¡­ they¡¯re not supposed to have-¡± ¡°What? Just spit it out or I¡¯ll bite you.¡± Thalmin growled, as he and Thacea seemed to be too preoccupied with the contents of their own letters to have paid my little interaction with Ilunor any mind. After recovering from that brief exchange with a triumphant chuckle underneath my helmet, I began combing through the letter for all of the unspoken announcements alluded to during the orientation. What was highlighted above all else however were three, quite understandably, important topics. Dormitory Assignment: Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Weapons Inspection: Conducted by School Blacksmith and Armorer Professor Sorecar, at the North Field Proving Grounds, by the stroke of Midnight tomorrow. House Assignments: Conducted by Professor Altalan Rur Astur, Professor Vanavan, and Professor Mal¡¯Tory, location to be determined. No preparations required. Details will be posted to your dorms on the 4th day of the Grace Period. Both the Weapons Inspection and House Assignments worried me greatly. The former was tricky, as on one hand it could be a solid show of force for humanity, which seemed to be sorely needed in an Academy clearly designed to force the upper echelons of the other realms to bend the knee. However on the other hand it could lead to unforeseen consequences, most concerning of which was losing the element of surprise in the case I needed to use it, or worse yet, outright technological theft. I¡¯d have to sleep on it¡­ but suffice it to say, even though my pistol was relatively obsolete by modern standards, it was still leagues beyond whatever this place had. The latter announcement on House Assignments however was a complete mystery, and whilst it gave me bad vibes, I knew I¡¯d have to rely on the likes of Thacea and Thalmin to fill me in on what to expect. It was clear they had prior knowledge of Academy life, so they¡¯d be a vital resource to rely on. I¡¯d worry about that later. The other details listed in the letter were rather mundane, and relatively benign: school supply procurements, uniform tailoring, as well as other assorted details including the schedule for the first semester and the names and offices of all professors assigned to Year 1 students. To be honest I was getting tired by this point as the only thing keeping me up was the latent effects of adrenaline coursing through my veins. It was clear everyone else at the table shared a similar sentiment as yawns and half-lidded eyes abounded all around me. This prompted someone to finally mention the possibility of retiring for the night. ¡°Well if there isn¡¯t anything else we have to do, let¡¯s get moving. We have a new home to look forward to, and we still have to decide on sleeping arrangements.¡± Thalmin spoke, taking charge as he stood up. Ilunor followed suit, as he glanced towards Thacea. ¡°Let¡¯s just hope our dorm is one of the three-bedroom variety, and not two, because I¡¯d hate to force anyone here to room with our tainted Princess.¡± He spoke, in a surprisingly calm manner which really clued me in as to how he perceived Thacea. If he could discriminate this passively, then the whole taint discrimination must really run deep. ¡°Even you, Earthrealmer.¡± He turned towards me. ¡°As much as I find your presence aggravating, I¡¯d rather a quick and proper death than one by inadvertent and unexpected taint consumption.¡± I ignored the discount kobold once again as all four of us finally made our way out of the Grand Hall and out into the castle proper.
En Route to the Dorms The journey up and towards the dorms was one that I¡¯d definitely need the suit¡¯s footage for a deeper analysis later on. There was no way I could remember every twist and turn, every hallway and corridor, every stairway and stairwell, every side passage and connecting room that led us to where we found ourselves now. Indeed, I wasn¡¯t surprised that Ilunor had practically begged me to carry him the rest of the way, as his little lizard legs were clearly not built for scaling the lengths and heights of this verifiable castle of a school. I refused to oblige of course. Until, suddenly, the comparatively small thing all but gave up on walking. Which forced me to bridal carry him the rest of the way towards the dorms. Instead of being happy with the service I¡¯d freely offered him however, he started to wheeze and whine with even more, stirring up my already frayed nerves like a child poking at a big cat enclosure at a zoo. He wasn¡¯t satisfied with the way I was carrying him, for in his own words, being carried like a sack of potatoes ¡®wasn¡¯t ¡°becoming¡± of a noble and being of his standing¡¯. I told him I couldn¡¯t give less of a crap about his standing, and that his little legs barely gave him anything to stand on. The lizard however refused to listen, and instead took it upon himself to rectify this injustice without a chance for me to argue. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. He scurried up and around my arms, scaling me like some sort of an unruly house cat, before finding himself perched up on my shoulders. However, instead of draping himself across them like a scarf the way my cat usually did, he instead decided to ride me like some glorified jockey, with his legs dangling from my shoulders and his arms firmly cinched up against the chin of my helmet. I would¡¯ve been worried about the helmet slipping off if it wasn¡¯t for the 3 layered hermetic seal and maglocks which kept it tightly affixed to the rest of my armor. The whole affair was somewhat demeaning, and kind of humiliating when you looked at it from an outsider¡¯s perspective, but I really couldn¡¯t care less at that point. I was tired, and at least this kept the lizard¡¯s mouth shut as we made our final approach towards our dorm. Even Thacea and Thalmin refused to comment. Either out of pity for the lizard or out of respect for me having to deal with him.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. I didn¡¯t know what I was expecting with the accommodations. To be honest, that was the last thing on my mind given the non stop barrage of stressful circumstances that had come to dominate the majority of my evening. A part of me was excited for it though. It was the same intrusive part of my mind that still wanted to see this place for what it clearly wasn¡¯t: a fantasy. Images conjured up from years of hyperfixations on novels detailing the fantastical accommodations in magically inclined schools certainly didn¡¯t help matters. As a former college student I didn¡¯t have high hopes for ¡®dorm life¡¯. As an academy student however, the possibilities were endless. Any and all expectations were thrown completely out of the window as the double doors opened, revealing a room that immediately struck me as a design pulled straight out of a 5 star suite in some heritage building dating back to pre-20th century vintage. The double doors gave way to a small hallway which opened up to a living room four, maybe even five times the size of my aunt¡¯s New York City apartment in the heart of the Acela Corridor. Windows that looked more at home in a cathedral dominated the majority of the living space, which was otherwise centered around a fireplace that roared to life as soon as the doors behind us closed shut. A series of sofas, lounge chairs, bookcases, and coffee tables adorned the oak, timber, and granite tiled floors. This complemented what I could only describe as a mix of wood framed wall panels with white accents that felt somewhat precarious when considering that the fireplace ever so often emitted embers that floated high up to the roof. That was another thing I needed to mention right off the bat¡­ The ceilings. Most apartments in the Acela Corridor, the combined megacity that was New York, New Jersey, Boston, Washington DC and Baltimore, had a maximum ceiling height of about 9 feet. You¡¯d be lucky to find a place with ceilings that high in fact, but my Aunt was lucky enough to have inherited a legacy apartment dating back to the late 21st century. The ceiling in this ¡°dormitory¡±? It went up a good 14, maybe even 20 feet. It actually sort of angled inwards towards a rectangular point, which was more than likely the underside of a roof, meaning we were at the very top floor of one of the castle¡¯s towers. The ceiling tapered up towards these open wood-frame support beams and struts that back on Earth could¡¯ve housed an entire colony of pigeons. Indeed, my overactive imagination conjured up thoughts of Thacea perching upon it given her avian form, a thought which would¡¯ve made me chuckle wildly if not for how awestruck I was from the grandeur of this place. Yet as stunned and in awe as I was, the rest of my peers seemed to walk right through the space without paying much mind, as if it was just another room to them. ¡°What a dump¡­¡± Ilunor muttered under his breath, scampering off of my shoulders and back onto his feet. Which surprised me not because he¡¯d consider this place anything but utterly mind-blowing, but because he still found it in him to complain even after everything we¡¯ve been through. ¡°Furnishings and quarters more fit for a minor lord or a knight. Say, this would more than likely be what you¡¯re used to, right, Emma of Earthrealm?¡± Thalmin spoke with that same, gruff tone of voice. It was clear however he was still attempting to play nice, so I responded with the only thing my awestruck self could do at that point. I shrugged. ¡°How¡¯re you finding the quarters, Princess? Are they to your liking?¡± Thalmin quickly turned to face Thacea, who seemed to be analyzing the place with those piercing eyes of hers. Her hand ran across some of the furnishings as she pinched her fingers together at the slightest bit of dust. ¡°I am partial towards anything the Academy wishes to provide us.¡± The avian answered diplomatically. ¡°Oh come on, answer truthfully, Princess.¡± The Lupinor egged her on for a less guarded response. ¡°If I am to be¡­ blunt about it, this place is sorely lacking in amenities as it is in size and design. A hallway leading into a rectangular living quarters, with only two bedrooms flanking the hallway near the entrance? You¡¯re right in your presumptions, Prince Thalmin. These quarters seem to be quite suited for an individual of knightly status or perhaps even a minor lordship.¡± Thacea responded with sincerity, though remaining tactful in her tone and delivery. ¡°No dining room.¡± Ilunor mumbled out as he splayed across one of the couches. Again, reminding me of a spoiled feline. ¡°My points exactly.¡± Thacea responded, while I stared at all of them with an unbreaking expression of utter disbelief. ¡°Alright, enough room talk I think there¡¯s something that I need cleared up.¡± I interjected, finally breaking through my awestruck gawking with a renewed sense of direction. ¡°Yes, Emma?¡± Thacea replied promptly. ¡°You said we¡¯d talk about this when we got somewhere less public, so spill it. I want to know what was up with the academic rites thing. I want to know why today¡¯s ceremony was such a big shock to you all. I want to know what the hell is up with everything.¡± I laid out all my questions, to which Thacea and Thalmin promptly nodded in response. ¡°I appreciate your patience in maintaining discretion for so long, Emma. An answer is the least we can do to reciprocate your tactfulness in handling what must be a very confusing set of circumstances.¡± Thacea began. ¡°I¡¯ll explain it simply, Earthrealmer.¡± Thalmin interjected, as if to take the burden of explanation off of Thacea as it was clear her response was going to be long winded. ¡°What usually happens on the night of arrival is an orientation, not the academic rites ceremony. That¡¯s why everyone was so surprised, that¡¯s why everyone was caught off guard. We had no time to prepare for it, but there were rumors that this year would¡¯ve been exceptional, so, some of us were prepared.¡± The Lupinor lifted up his ceremonial dagger, pointing at the gem which encrusted the hilt of the blade. Thacea did the same, revealing her necklace and amulet, whilst Ilunor lazily raised his stubby little arm, and pointed at his bracelet. Thacea took over from Thalmin after that. ¡°You see, the relationship between the Academy and us students has always been indicative of the relationship between the Nexus and the Adjacent Realms. The entire school was constructed as a bridge between the realms after all, and after the great war between the Nexus and the Adjacent Realms, there was a level of¡­ animosity and distrust that drove the Nexus to implement radical changes at what was supposed to be neutral ground: the Academy. For you see, the Academy had long since been a center of learning for the most magically gifted of the Adjacent Realms, and those usually consisted of the royalty and nobility, as it was magic that granted the first of the noble houses power to rule over the masses. So with a great concentration of the young, fledgling members of the Adjacent Realm¡¯s elite present at the Academy, the Nexus decided to implement the Academic Rites as a way of directly controlling a significant portion of the upper echelons of the Adjacent Realms.¡± ¡°Wait, I don¡¯t get it. How is today¡¯s ceremony not supposed to be the way it usually goes? Why do they tolerate the whole amulets or whatever that you have on?¡± I asked in a rapid fire pace, which prompted Thalmin to respond. ¡°Well, that was how it used to go, Earthrealmer, but things changed. The gist of it is this: relations improved. After we became more accepting of the Nexus¡¯ influence following the war, they became less strict about directly controlling our ruling castes. The ceremony remained as an afterthought, no longer meant to bind us, but instead kept as just tradition. Honestly, they would¡¯ve just removed the rites entirely, but they kept it because they wanted to save face. They didn¡¯t want to seem weak, because if they remove it, well, it¡¯s going to look like they acquiesced to us Adjacent Realmers. So the rites remained, but more like a ceremony than a real rite. That¡¯s why it¡¯s normally always scheduled after orientation and arrival. It gives time for students to prepare, share amulets, and make new ones; so when the time came for the ceremony everyone would resist it by default. It was just for show, literally just a tradition.¡± Thalmin replied succinctly. ¡°So that¡¯s what was different about today¡­ they literally surprised all of you by bringing back an old policy you expected to have been dead or at least nerfed for ages now.¡± I surmised, which prompted nods of tentative affirmation from both Thalmin and Thacea. I barely had enough time to process everything before a sharp creaking noise pierced the air just after our discussion had ended. A small door that blended in seamlessly with the rest of the wood paneling of the living room suddenly opened up, revealing faint candlelight emanating from within. Emerging from it was a member of the same diminutive elven race that had read out my name upon entry to the grand hall. This one however seemed much more shabbily dressed, adorned in rags if they could even be called that. They seemed to be dragging out oversized suitcases and luggage, which I immediately assumed belonged to my peers. An assumption that was promptly proven right as Ilunor sighed loudly upon seeing it. ¡°Just place it wherever, aura-less, and leave us alone when you¡¯re done.¡± Ilunor spoke dismissively. The being bowed deeply in response, as it seemed to be quick in grabbing more luggage and suitcases, which at this point was quickly taken by both Thalmin and Thacea, who gingerly removed them from the elf¡¯s hands as they both spoke at the same time. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary.¡± They spoke with sympathy and pity in their voices, Ilunor however instead glared at the whole exchange with an annoyed expression. ¡°The elf is here to serve. Let it serve.¡± He proclaimed as he snapped his fingers twice. ¡°Where are your manners aura-less. Introduce yourself to your betters.¡± ¡°A-apologies master. I¡­ I- I am Aurin. I have been assigned as your dormitory¡¯s resident porter. If there is anything I can do, anything at all, I will be at your command throughout the day and night.¡± The elf spoke, before bowing deeply toward each and every one of us. Thacea and Thalmin¡¯s reactions were easy enough to read. The Princess was wary to show any emotion, but it was clear through those very expressive eyes that a great remorse was welling up within her. Thalmin¡¯s reactions however were far more confusing, as it was clear there was some level of personal shame there, as if he had something to say but couldn¡¯t. ¡°Go back to your hole, we were discussing something important.¡± Ilunor finally waved the poor thing off, as I was once again stuck there utterly thrown off by everything. As soon as the elf was out of the room however, I felt as if I needed to say something about that whole exchange. I simply couldn¡¯t stand by and watch anymore. This was the last straw. Chapter 9: Setting Boundaries ¡°What the fuck was that?¡± I asked, not even attempting to bottle up my utter contempt at the spoiled Vunerian. ¡°What? The aura-less? It¡¯s one of the dorm-porters. Am I to assume you don¡¯t have such things back in Earthrealm?¡± Ilunor snapped back lazily, still lounging on the couch like an oversized cat. ¡°Elaborate on what you mean by serve, you were treating him like a fucking slave.¡± I spat back. I knew full well the implications of the smaller elf¡¯s status. However, part of me was too shocked to really believe it. Part of me wanted to believe that it was maybe some sort of cultural misunderstanding. The modern, contemporary human in me simply couldn''t believe that slavery could still exist. ¡°Erm. Yeah? Because that¡¯s what it is?¡± The lizard responded with barely a hint of hesitation in his voice. ¡°Earthrealmer, I don¡¯t see what the issue here is. I understand that you come from a very underdeveloped realm, but do be sensible now. Even the most uncivilized of backwater realms have some concept of hierarchy and class. You, being sent here, a squire or what have you, you of all people should know a thing or two about class do you not? You¡¯ve quite literally recounted your name and title within the academic rites. You gave a speech about loyalty and submissiveness to the betters in your realm. You respect hierarchy, so what do you not understand about ours?¡± ¡°Hierarchy does not require rampant racism, classism, and fuckin slavery, you arrogant lizard.¡± I practically snarled out, while my hands clenched up into fists. The lizard, to his credit, seemed entirely unfazed by my verbal confrontation as he only looked at me lazily through my opaque lenses. ¡°What a bizarre concept¡­ maybe we should talk about this in the morning, hmm? I¡¯m tired. We all are. And we should really get our affairs in order before-¡± I cut the lizard off, and without warning grabbed him by the collar of his silken tunic just narrowly avoiding his throat, and in doing so bending and ripping the various necklaces and jeweled ornaments that adorned it. ¡°You don¡¯t get to run away.¡± I tightened my grip and lifted the lizard up about 7 feet off the floor, while what was left of the Vunerian¡¯s jewelry shattered in my hands and fell to the floor with a resonant clank. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving this topic high and dry before we address it. I¡¯ve given you the benefit of a doubt time and time again throughout the whole night. I tried, desperately grasping at straws hoping that all of this was just some big cultural misunderstanding, some dirty jab or some racist remark. But it¡¯s become clear that I was giving you too much credit.¡± It didn¡¯t take long however before Thalmin tried his hand at mediation, as the wolf placed a single hand on my own gloved ones, and gripped it tightly. Tight enough that the haptic feedback sensors on my gloves refused to translate the sensations as they reached and exceeded the minimum pain threshold. Warning: Minimum pain threshold on [RIGHT HAND] and [LEFT HAND] exceeded, auto-disconnect of haptic feedback engaged. This clearly shocked the lupine as his eyes grew wide at how ineffective that move was, my hands refusing to even register the lupine¡¯s attempt to loosen my grip. However, whilst I got the message, I still refused to let go. Not before making sure I drew a line in the sand with the Vunerian. ¡°Let me tell you a little something. You might think that you¡¯re hot shit, you might think that your little world and all of its little party tricks are somehow great, grand and mighty. But I can tell you right now that all of it, every last bit of it, means nothing to us. You¡¯re like a burrowing hermit, living out your life in the woods. Your castles are akin to small anthills, your kingdoms are all but patches in the dirt, your entire realm is an underdeveloped forest¡­ forever stuck and fated to stagnation. Your world is a monument to a backwards and dead system; a system of ideologies and pathetic leaders that my people had long since abandoned in the dustbin of history. So while you continued to wallow in your debauchery, the march of human progress thrummed on. As we forged starscrapers using automated constructs, you continued moving dirt using shovels. As we built amongst the heavens itself, wrapping our world in a construct of our own design, you continued placing stone atop of stone all the while marveling at the rickety monuments to your barbarism. So don¡¯t get cocky. Your titles, your power, means nothing. I want you to know that even the smallest of UN states can march across your lands right up to your castles and there¡¯s nothing you can do about it. Just like there¡¯s nothing you can do to make me let go of you. So don¡¯t get smart with me, because I¡¯ve had it up to here with you!¡± I seethed, glared, and snarled out through my suit¡¯s vocoders, my grip tightening so much that I began tearing at the seams of the lizard¡¯s shirt collar. I made sure my point was made while I held him as he kicked, thrashed and lashed out ineffectually. What happened next however was something that I couldn¡¯t anticipate. With a warning from the suit the lizard opened his maw wide, and within the next second, I saw a spark, and a stream of fire which ignited from deep within his throat. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS My field of view was suddenly blocked by an all encompassing flame, which panicked me at first but was otherwise mellowed out by my training. ALERT: EXTERNAL TEMPERATURES EXCEEDING SAFE LEVELS. 400¡­ 725¡­ 997¡­ 1227 DEGREES CELSIUS. PASSIVE HEAT SHIELDING NOMINAL. INTERNAL TEMPERATURE CONTROL NOMINAL. To anyone looking in, all they would see was a desperate Vunerian, held by the collar of his shirt, breathing a continuous stream of fire that engulfed the head of a suited monstrosity. A suited monstrosity which refused to even flinch at this attack. A suited monstrosity that by the very end of the Vunerian¡¯s attack, was left unscathed. With only a few specks of soot discoloring the otherwise pristine gunmetal blue of the helmet, and two glowing red lenses staring back through the dark billowing smoke. ¡°Are you done?¡± I spoke through my undamaged vocoders with a mild annoyance. The Vunerian ceased any resistance at that point, as he hung limply, almost catatonic with eyes that could only be read as utterly petrified. With one swift motion I dropped the lizard like an oversized plush back on the couch. I still had the decency to do so above the plush cushions, so he was more or less unharmed. The ambiance in the room had understandably shifted following the confrontation. With Thacea and Thalmin standing completely stiff, their whole bodies refusing to even flinch. I could see flashes of fear, concern, and panic welling within Thalmin¡¯s eyes. However, much to my surprise, Thacea looked on at me with an expression that I just couldn¡¯t pin down. If avian eyes could translate well enough to a human¡¯s, then I could definitely say I saw sympathy in her eyes. A genuine sense of concern and sympathy, despite having just reasserted myself as all but a monster. I didn¡¯t understand why, I wasn¡¯t expecting anything near a look of sympathy from anyone especially after this sudden turn of events. To that end, it was Thacea who broke the silence, moving forward and placing herself between me and the Vunerian. ¡°Emma, Ilunor, let¡¯s take a step back to talk about all of this.¡± ¡°What is there to talk about, Princess? The Earthrealmer¡¯s a fucking savage!¡± Ilunor shouted out, his panicked state from just seconds prior melting back into the shriveled pathetic mess. ¡°Ilunor, you have been nothing but combative and provocative towards the newrealmer for the entire night. You have nothing if not more than a good portion of the blame for this confrontation. I suggest you hold your piece.¡± The avinor put her foot down, something that Thalmin grinned and nodded in approval at, before turning to face me. ¡°Emma, I understand how stressful all of this may be for you. You are in a completely foreign land, meeting foreign beings for the first time in your life. You are far from home, scared, and potentially afraid. Your reactions are understandable, but please, could we agree to disagree for now? Can we please try our best to act like civilized, decent beings? There are far greater matters to worry about than our petty interpersonal conflicts. To survive the academy we must work together as a peer group. To ensure our year goes smoothly, we must come together, not tear each other apart at the seams.¡± The avinor¡¯s voice and facade faltered but refused to break throughout the entirety of it. Before finally it cracked, just a little bit. ¡°Please. All we have here are each other.¡± It was at this point that I finally relented. A deep sigh was all that marked my response as I took a seat on one of the couches across from Ilunor. I didn¡¯t even care to calibrate for my weight as the seat moaned underneath my suit¡¯s immense mass, which prompted Thacea to quickly cast another spell, preventing the wood from splintering into a thousand pieces. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 225% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°Listen, I¡¯m sorry for reacting like that okay?¡± I managed out, tired and absolutely drained. ¡°But I just want to make one thing clear right off the bat, I¡¯m not afraid, I¡¯m fucking pissed. I can¡¯t¡­ I just can¡¯t fucking deal with slavery. If we¡¯re going to move forward with this, I have to just say this outright. Slavery is not a thing where I come from. It¡¯s deplorable, it¡¯s reprehensible, it¡¯s the worst possible evil besides¡­ fuck I can¡¯t think of anything¡­ torture? Warcrimes? It¡¯s the worst thing you can do to a person.¡± I spouted out in a series of exasperated breaths. ¡°How can you guys be so cruel, so utterly cold, how can you guys stomach this-¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Because we don¡¯t have a fucking choice Earthrealmer.¡± Thalmin finally responded, a deep growl resonating throughout the entire room. ¡°Because we don¡¯t have a say in how that specific part of our culture works. Because that¡¯s what the Nexus expects of us.¡± He paused, turning away in shame. ¡°Because¡­ because that¡¯s¡­ because we bent the knee, Earthrealmer.¡± A long pause overshadowed the conversation after that point. Turning to Thacea, she seemed to nod in agreement, whilst Ilunor refused to acknowledge anything. ¡°Things are¡­ far more complicated than they seem, Emma.¡± Thacea began. ¡°Know that our inactions do not constitute complicitness. We simply are incapable of challenging what is the status quo.¡± The princess stated a matter-of-factly. ¡°I applaud your realm for being so strong in your resolve, and I can only wish for-¡± She stopped herself in her tracks, as Thalmin shot her a glance that read don¡¯t. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be involved with any of this crap.¡± I spat back. ¡°But I know I¡¯m not a one man army, I don¡¯t have the means of changing the whole world.¡± Not yet at least. ¡°So fine, I refuse any and all services from this prisoner.¡± I looked away from Ilunor, then towards Thacea and Thalmin. ¡°I hope you two can eventually come to my side on this. I¡­ I honestly don¡¯t know how to feel right now.¡± A long bout of silence once more punctuated the air as the only sound echoing across the room was the roars of the fireplace. I looked at the three closely, Thacea and Thalmin were clearly shaken by the entire turn of events, their expressions reading as remorseful and regretful. Ilunor however remained seated with a shaken expression, refusing to meet my gaze. ¡°Shall we move on to room assignments?¡± Thalmin finally broke the silence, much to the relief of everyone present. ¡°Sure.¡± I managed out. I knew that the lingering awkwardness in the air couldn¡¯t really be filtered out, but we had to at least try. ¡°Right, so, seeing as we have two bedrooms, and four of us, we can divide this in one of two ways. By gender, or by random chance.¡± I perked up. ¡°Why not by choice?¡± ¡°Who would want to stay with the Vunerian, Earthrealmer?¡± Thalmin replied without a second¡¯s hesitation with one of the most savage off handed remarks I¡¯ve heard from him throughout the whole night. It honestly brought a smile to my face after everything as a small spark of satisfaction welled within me. ¡°You have a point.¡± I replied wholeheartedly, to which Ilunor seemed to grumble something unintelligible under his breath. ¡°If we are to do this by gender, then I¡¯m more than willing to take the sacrifice in staying with the Vunerian, Earthrealmer.¡± Thalmin continued. If it wasn¡¯t clear already, I felt a sort of strange unspoken comradery forming between the both of us. Maybe I was just too tired and I was reading too much into this, but the more and more I stood up in defiance of the shit I had to put up with, the more he seemed to respect me. At least in his weird, gruff, blunt and confrontational way. ¡°Thanks, but you know I¡¯m more than willing to like, leave this up to chance.¡± I shrugged, meeting Thalmin¡¯s eyes for the first time in real, genuine conversation. ¡°Fate works in weird ways, so let¡¯s see what fate has to say about our room assignments.¡± ¡°Alright then, as the newrealmer, how do you suggest we play this game of chance?¡± Thalmin shot at me, throwing the ball back to my court with a sly grin. ¡°I know you guys more than likely have your magical equivalents of determining chance.¡± I began, as I rummaged through one of my suit¡¯s pockets. ¡°My kind however, has perfected the game of chance. With advanced mathematics, statistical analyses, and a bunch of other fields I¡¯m more than likely going to butcher, determining true random is something that is vital to some of my world¡¯s scientific and technological fields.¡± I pulled out what was one of the few personal items I was allowed to bring to the other side. An early 21st century US penny, one of the few keepsakes I still had from my old life before the move to my Aunt¡¯s. ¡°However, I¡¯m not about over-complicating things. I like to keep things simple, so, let¡¯s do this the old fashioned way.¡± I flung the coin into the air, before catching it with a finesse that would¡¯ve been near impossible given the bulk of the suit, if it wasn¡¯t for all of the active hand-eye coordination systems that gave me the sensitivity and reflexes of an olympic athlete. ¡°It¡¯s a little game back in my world called Heads or Tails. If I flip this coin, and it lands heads up, I¡¯ll stay with Thalmin. However, if it lands tails up I¡¯ll stay with Thacea.¡± I turned to Ilunor cocking my head to the side as I did so. ¡°And for the record I¡¯m deliberately picking this method to remove the Vunerian from the equation. I don¡¯t think it would be in our best interests for me to be rooming with a puntable chew-toy.¡± I spoke, quickly asserting my decision as both Thacea and Thalmin nodded in agreement. The dynamics were quick to form here, and I was glad I was able to tackle it head on. I was trying my best to establish myself not as just some mindless and disagreeable brute with a short fuse, but a reasonable, rational sapient with a willingness to compromise. As a gesture of good faith I handed out the penny to Thacea. ¡°You can confirm there¡¯s no funny business going on with that coin. No weighted sides, no enchantments. It¡¯s just a solid piece of zinc, nickel and copper.¡± The avinor gave the innocuous object a good look-over. Flipping it through her fingers, before she handed it off back to me without much fuss or fanfare; it was a scratched and aged coin with surfaces that barely resembled what they once were almost a millennium ago. ¡°I¡¯ve looked it over. I detect no enchantments or magic on this copper-piece.¡± She stated confidently to the others. I waited for something to happen. It was becoming a bit of a habit to just see a bunch of those mana-radiation warning pop-ups appearing whenever magic was being used. But nothing happened here. It irked me somewhat, and I wanted to raise my objections to the confident declaration of the coin¡¯s lack of enchantment given that no detection spell was just cast. But this wasn¡¯t the time or place for that. I didn¡¯t want to stir the pot even more as I grabbed the coin back from Thacea and nodded confidently. ¡°Alright then. If there are no objections, I¡¯ll do the honors.¡± With a dexterous flip of my thumb the small coin was flung 5 feet in the air, before dropping back down, with all eyes practically glued to my closed off hand. ¡°I¡¯m not one to keep everyone in undue suspense, so here goes nothing.¡± I lifted my hand, revealing¡­ ¡°Emma, what the hell is this?¡± Thalmin growled out. I cocked my head at the coin which had clearly landed on tails, then turned back to face the wolf. ¡°Erm, it¡¯s tails.¡± I replied unceremoniously. The Lupinor, clearly unsatisfied, leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing and his pupils constricting as if to corroborate my statements. ¡°That¡¯s a building.¡± Thalmin said flatly, my eyes darted back and forth between the coin and the Lupinor before I realized just where the point of failure in our cultural miscommunication was. And I laughed. For the first time in this bizarre fantastical world, I genuinely laughed. I didn¡¯t even attempt to hide it as I was barely able to hold myself together. It was as if the collective stress that had been building up throughout the evening had finally been released in the span of a few minutes. First with outright rage, and now, with an unrestrained fit of humor; my own very specific brand of humor but it was humor to me all the same. I felt mental relief washing over me over this one, silly, ridiculous misunderstanding. I laughed long enough that the three began to take a few steps back away from me in concern, with only Thacea moving forward to place a hand on my shoulder, displaying genuine worry once more. ¡°Emma. Is there something the matter? Is everything okay?¡± ¡°Sorry, I¡­ That was inappropriate of me. I apologize.¡± I started off, coughing a bit while I put myself back together. ¡°Back in my world, tails is what we call the side of the coin opposite of the face or main feature of the coin. This penny here for instance has the Lincoln Memorial, a monument built to commemorate the leadership of one of my state¡¯s ancient leaders who abolished slavery.¡± I explained, rubbing the back of my neck. I needed that laugh. Before long, we began discussing the implications of these results. ¡°Right, so, this means I shall be sharing my quarters with Ilunor.¡± Thalmin spoke with a disappointed sigh, and to his credit said nothing else to demean the lizard. The wolf really did have an unfiltered and upfront personality, one that I was beginning to see had a reasonable logic to it. He was brash, and seemingly aggressive at times, but it wasn¡¯t without provocation or reason. Which was more than I could say for the Vunerian. ¡°Oh joy, my roommate is a Mercenary Prince. May my throat remain un-slit, and my purse remain untouched, or by the Goddesses may your house be struck by the wrath your kind so deserve.¡± The Vunerian spoke halfheartedly. It honestly struck me as impressive how he remained so casually combative despite everything. ¡°Careful, Vunerian. You said nothing of bites or slashes.¡± Thalmin growled back, which didn¡¯t seem to have much of an effect on the likes of Ilunor as he sat unfazed, probably still shaken up by my actions. ¡°With the layout of the dormitories being rather straightforward, I assume that both bedrooms are identical. Emma and I shall take the left, and you shall take the right.¡± Thacea interjected, making sure to keep the conversation flowing as it was clear that was the only thing keeping Ilunor from interjecting. ¡°Fine by me, Princess.¡± Thalmin responded. ¡°Any reason for choosing the left, Thacea?¡± I inquired. ¡°Oh, just Avinor tradition is all, dating back to our migratory days prior to contact with the Nexus. Prior to contemporary civilization we flew as flocks across our realm, and tradition states that the left of the flock is far less vulnerable than the right. As a result, females fly on the left, and males fly on the right.¡± Thacea explained without much fuss. ¡°I mean, I have no issues with that. So if we¡¯re all in agreement?¡± I asked, craning my head to Ilunor who just lazily waved a hand in reply. ¡°Do as you wish.¡± He said dismissively. ¡°Right, so I assume it¡¯s time to move in?¡± I quickly announced. The momentum of the conversation began taking a dip towards lethargy which was more than understandable given everything we¡¯ve been through. ¡°Yes, we just have to move our luggage and get settled in.¡± Thacea nodded, grabbing her own luggage, as did Thalmin. It was only Ilunor who raised his hand in the air, as if ready to snap his fingers for this trivial chore. This was promptly stopped by my red tinted lenses bearing down on him, making sure that the prisoner got as much respite as possible whilst I was around and had a say in things. He put his hand down immediately, as if realizing what I was implying with that glare, which prompted him to get up to start tugging at his oversized luggage himself. The fact that my luggage hadn¡¯t arrived yet suddenly hit me, which prompted me to crane my head around throughout the entire room, confirming my suspicions in the process. ¡°Wait, where¡¯s my-¡± Was all I managed out before a series of three loud knocks came from the front doors of the dorm. Adrenaline shot through my system, as the haze of lethargy was swiftly pushed aside in lieu of the sudden interruption to our closed off world. Thalmin took the charge once again, taking to his feet as he approached the door, and swiftly pulled it open. In front of the door wasn¡¯t the Academy¡¯s secret police, or some magical golem tasked with whisking us away in the middle of the night. Instead, it was a finely dressed female elf. She was dressed in what I could only describe as a cross between Thacea¡¯s academy robes, and the robes the professors themselves wore. Except whereas both were of a single color, hers was this silvery, almost gold color, outlined in the same dark gray trimmings of Thacea¡¯s cloak. The figure stood prominently in the door frame, and would have taken a good chunk of the space if it wasn¡¯t for another figure immediately behind her. A gargoyle. Muscle-bound, and dressed in a simple loincloth, but with bits and pieces of highly mana-enriched armor strewn across its form tied together with leather belts and straps. Yet instead of seeming menacing, the scene was almost comical with the gargoyle pushing one of those bell carts you¡¯d see ferrying luggage at hotels. Instead of normal suitcases however, this thing was stuffed to the brim with my cargo: boxes and containers with reinforced spacecraft-grade material and double-vacuum sealed hatches that looked entirely out of place in this fantastical world. ¡°Emma of Earthrealm.¡± The figure spoke, eliciting my attention as I stepped forward towards the door. ¡°Your luggage has arrived.¡± Chapter 10: Baggage Claim I was tired, so very tired. I wasn¡¯t ready for this. I just wasn¡¯t in the mood for more of the academy¡¯s antics. Yet here I was, facing down the third mini-boss of the night. What followed was an intense stare-down that I just wasn¡¯t up for, especially at this hour. I realized however that it was very much a one-sided affair as my opaque, and frankly intimidating lenses, were carrying most of the weight in this impromptu standoff. I could see that the elf in question looked as tired as I was. Indeed despite her well kept attire, and the sternness that she conveyed in her voice, she exuded as much of an air of exhaustion as she did a domineering stance Yet the fires of authority she carried had all but been doused by my height advantage. With a good two feet head start in the height department, the whole scene would¡¯ve been rather one sided, if it wasn¡¯t for the hulking mass of muscle that was the gargoyle standing behind her. So after a good ten seconds of looking her up and down, I nodded. ¡°Thanks.¡± I managed out, restraining myself from gesticulating too much so as to keep my intimidation factor in the game. ¡°I appreciate you bringing it all the way up here. Must have been quite a journey hauling a cart like that up a maze of staircases am I right?¡± I attempted to defuse the situation with the age-old, tried and true method outlined several times in the SIOP manual: small talk. The elf however, wasn¡¯t having any of it as she remained completely silent, refusing to even acknowledge my question. Even the gargoyle refused to answer as he simply stared blankly into the room, his steely gaze was ever so slightly off, which when combined with his unflinching stature was more than enough to raise a few red flags. I decided to expedite the conversation, now realizing that there was no point in prolonging this unnecessary standoff. ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m assuming all my stuff arrived in one piece?¡± This line of questioning was enough to prompt an answer. Although it was one that was far from what I had expected. ¡°I am afraid it would be disingenuous of me to answer that question, Emma of Earthrealm.¡± The elf spoke cryptically, with a tired air of authority now imbued with an unwarranted addition of dismissiveness and superiority. Something that I was quickly discovering to be a trend amongst the elves and their various subspecies. With the exception of the blue-robed Vanavan, every elf I¡¯ve met thus far seemed to always find themselves slipping into this very specific brand of cavalier arrogance. Again, I just wasn¡¯t in the mood to be playing games, not with an elf of all people. ¡°Disingenuous, how?¡± I snapped back, making sure that my terseness came through loud and clear through my vocoders. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know if all of your luggage arrived successfully, Emma of Earthrealm. It is the responsibility of your own people to ensure that is the case. However, given the primitive nature of your trans-realm portal methodologies, there is a high likelihood a few of your belongings may be missing somewhere in the ether between our realm and your own. It is to be expected of course, no realm does it well on their first try.¡± The arrogance began to ooze from this female elf, an arrogance that bordered on outright disrespect as it was clear what she was hinting at, or at least alluding to. Sure, on the surface it was just an off handed rude jab at our portal tech, but on the other hand, it was so clearly coded in such a way that it was referring to our first portal. The same one that led to the untimely death of the first human candidate. This disrespect made my blood simmer, but I held it together all the same. It was fortunate that I¡¯d released some of my rage on Ilunor just moments prior, because otherwise this elf would¡¯ve found herself blown through the thick stone and brick mortar behind her. ¡°This is why it would be disingenuous of me to speak on behalf of your realm¡¯s own shortcomings. I simply wish to be as candid and earnest as I can in any discussions with our esteemed first-year peers.¡± The elf continued, which only prompted me to shrug dismissively in response. ¡°You know, you¡¯d make for a great customer service agent for Trans-United Spacelines. I¡¯m just waiting on when you¡¯re going to push the extra baggage and handling insurance that inevitably comes after this spiel.¡± I jabbed back, causing the elf to raise a single brow in confusion as I sighed. ¡°Fine, alright, let¡¯s just get this over with.¡± I moved forward towards the bell cart, only to be stopped by the gargoyle who held a single arm between me and my supply crates. ¡°It would be rude of me to not have my assistant carry your luggage for you.¡± The elf interjected, a small smile curling up at the sides of her tired face. So this was also a power play thing. I thought to myself. Alright, let¡¯s go. I continued moving forward, ignoring the elf¡¯s insistence as I pushed the gargoyle¡¯s arm out of the way without much effort. It was only when I had wrapped both arms around one of the large crates did the gargoyle move back in, using one of his oversized hands to wrap around my wrist without warning. ¡°I insist.¡± The elf spoke again in that indignant tone of voice. Warning: Maximum pain threshold on [RIGHT HAND] exceeded, auto-disconnect of haptic feedback engaged. You¡¯re actually willing to hurt your students to satisfy your power fantasies? Really? It was with this sudden transgression that I turned to face the elf with my helmet¡¯s expressionless gaze. I made sure my point was known as I allowed the gargoyle to continue pinching down on my wrist. As the seconds ticked on, I refused to acknowledge the pain or even the discomfort that would have been felt if it wasn¡¯t for my suit. This clearly began to bother the elf. Her once gleeful eyes of satisfaction evolved into concern, then into revulsion and abject confusion as I remained there, completely ignoring any and all afflictions that would¡¯ve at this point caused any other student to be writhing and rolling around in pain. ¡°Are we done here?¡± I snapped back, ripping my hand from the gargoyle¡¯s grip without any effort. This demonstrated one of two things. One: that I not only ignored the pain, but that I had the strength to make this musclebound bodyguard¡¯s efforts at physically restraining me completely moot. Two: that I wasn¡¯t about to bend the knee or submit to whatever games this messed up elf was playing at. With a single flourish I lifted the cargo container up and into my arms; what amounted to a few metric tons of equipment that the elf knew was impossible for most creatures to handle. It was probably the only reason she brought the gargoyle here after all. I made it a point to keep the crate held between my arms without even once flinching, holding completely still for an egregiously long time, all the while staring down at her as I cocked my head slightly. ¡°I ask again, ma¡¯am, are we done here?¡± I reiterated, causing the elf to do something she probably wasn¡¯t used to. ¡°Lortal, leave the rest of the Earthrealmer¡¯s belongings here and take the cart back, it¡¯s getting late.¡± She admitted defeat. Not directly to my face, but still, it was defeat all the same as the gargoyle slowly but surely placed all the crates down on the stone tiled floor in front of the dorm and booked it out of there. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The pair vanished without a trace, probably using the same teleportation spell Mal¡¯tory used in the Grand Hall. I grinned in satisfaction underneath my helmet, taking a moment to savor yet another small victory before I turned around to face my peers who had been watching the whole scene unfold with bated breath this entire time. Their expressions were mixed. Thalmin certainly cheered me on with a look of approval, which was confirmed with a single head nod. Thacea on the other hand seemed mildly concerned, probably due to whatever social faux pas I¡¯d just committed. Then again I couldn¡¯t bring myself to be bothered about one simple faux pas amidst an entire night of drama. Finally, Ilunor once more looked at me with those terrified slitted reptilian eyes. Perhaps seeing the container held so casually in my arms was even more proof of my perceived strength. Or perhaps it made his whole theory of me being nothing but a golem even more credible in his eyes. Regardless of what it was, the whole room slowly resumed where we left off before the interruption, with everyone shuffling their possessions into their bedrooms. With both of my arms preoccupied by the oversized crate, I was just about ready to make use of the suit¡¯s retractable mechanical arm, if it wasn¡¯t for Thacea¡¯s swift assistance in holding the door to our bedroom open. I nodded and thanked her, moving in and dreading the unpacking that awaited me. I should¡¯ve known however that worrying about space management in a place like this was like worrying about flight path restrictions in unincorporated space. The single door didn¡¯t give way to a bedroom, but instead another corridor. A corridor that while shorter than the one leading to the living room, gave way to a space I didn¡¯t dare call a bedroom. Down the 10 or so feet of corridor was an oversized luxury loft within what was already an oversized penthouse. To say that the room was grand was yet again another understatement. Whilst the Academy certainly wasn¡¯t the idealized magical school I¡¯d made it out to be, this room definitely resonated more with that fantasy. It almost made me think that perhaps the Academy of old was in some way better than the one I was stuck with. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Because the room that I had just entered was literally the size of the entire living room, and then some. It was an apartment within an apartment. With that small corridor opening up to an expansive space that more resembled the open-plan lofts I¡¯d seen featured in the popular home and life magazines my mom had been obsessed with. To give a more period-accurate example, I¡¯d say that it resembled those weird open-plan two-story libraries that always found their way into fantasy epics and films, complete with the wrap-around second floor balcony that overlooked the first floor. The first floor in this case was most certainly designated for everything else aside from sleep. With a space hosting several desks fitted with inkwells and quills, along with couches and a small coffee table, it seemed to comfortably serve as a combined living and study area. The space was certainly more than large enough to fit the furniture that already existed within it, which made it perfect for my space-sensitive needs. In fact, this was probably beyond the best case scenario for the square footage I needed to set up my tent and its various supporting systems. The second floor was dominated by a space recessed into the wall that had two queen-sized beds positioned side by side, complete with bed posts and a canopy with curtains to boot. Flanking the two beds on either side of the walls were what I assumed to be doors leading further to a wardrobe or a full blown walk-in-closet. It was probably the latter, but I was too preoccupied with moving my cargo inside to really bother checking. Within the span of a few minutes, I¡¯d successfully transported each container into a relatively empty corner of the room. Each container was slightly different in size and shape, and in a way reminded me of the ancient game of Tetris as I stacked one on top of the other. It honestly felt quite therapeutic. After all that I¡¯d experienced, I felt at least a small semblance of control returning to me as I organized everything into a neat, stackable pile. I was just about to begin scanning and checking off each container from the manifest list I¡¯d been given during my mission briefing, before my attention was immediately taken by a more pressing issue. My side-view cameras detected a concerning scene, as I saw the princess struggling with some of the larger pieces of luggage she had. The poor avian was tugging, pulling, and practically throwing her back out with each and every step. This made me spring into action without hesitation as I leaped over, grabbing the oversized piece of luggage that would¡¯ve honestly been quite at home in the vintage collection of one of those designer bag brands back on Earth. ¡°Here, let me, princess.¡± I spoke insistently, with both of my hands reaching for either end of her luggage. With a bit of reluctance she finally agreed, giving me that courtly head nod that only a royal could give. ¡°Thank you, Emma.¡± She replied, which prompted me to give my own, less graceful nod. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the princess and I¡¯m the knight, remember?¡± I teased, hearkening back to our first interaction a few hours back. ¡°You did me a solid, saving me twice already. It''s only fair that it¡¯s time for your knight to do some of the saving.¡± I snickered, as I felt more and more of myself finally winding down with Ilunor promptly out of the question, and with the world condensing ever further into the privacy of these four walls. This was something I was more than grateful for after a rapid-fire gauntlet of existential panic after existential panic. I continued moving back and forth between the living room and my new bedroom, picking up the rest of Thacea¡¯s luggage with ease. With a single piece of luggage under each arm, and a suitcase in either hand, I turned to face the avian without much fanfare to ask. ¡°So, where do you want them, princess?¡± ¡°The suitcases can be placed next to the dressing room, the luggage containing the royal seal should be placed at the foot of my bed, of which I will take the left, and the other piece of luggage can be placed near the lounge chair-¡± Thacea stopped in her tracks as her avian eyes blinked rapidly. It was clear something was developing rapidly through her head, as she visibly winced in front of me and placed a single feathered arm against her chest, and another by her side, bowing ever so slightly. ¡°My sincerest apologies Emma, I answered in a manner that was incredibly unbecoming and disrespectful of your rank and station. Please forgive me.¡± Before I could answer however, the princess stood back up with that immaculate posture of hers, and continued. ¡°I¡­ am not used to these kinds of questions and offers being asked by someone of equal or comparable rank, birthright, or station, not especially one of my peers. This is a question that is generally reserved for those that serve, and royal etiquette and manners overtook me, as I responded far too eagerly. Again, I do apologize, Emma. It has been quite an eventful night and it is clear that the stresses are starting to take their toll on my social etiquette. It is unbecoming of me, and disrespectful of you, and it should not have even happened and so-¡± ¡°Hey, you cut that out alright?¡± I interjected, still holding onto the avian¡¯s luggage without breaking a sweat. ¡°E-excuse me?¡± ¡°Yeah, you heard me right, you cut that out right now, princess.¡± I reiterated, with a tone that was caught between caring, concerned, and empathetic, with a hint of exasperation. ¡°I don¡¯t follow-¡± ¡°I get it, apologies accepted. You and I aren¡¯t from the same cultural background, and it shows.¡± I started. However, whereas this would¡¯ve led into a verbal assault if it were Ilunor, the conversation instead veered into a far more constructive and wholesome territory when it came to the princess. ¡°You¡¯re trying, and that¡¯s what counts. Listen, I offered to help alright? So you can boss me around all you like. I appreciate that you backtracked on the whole talking-down-to-me aspect of things, and I appreciate that you see me as an equal, but¡­¡± Heck, this is way more complicated than I thought. ¡°... but I¡¯d appreciate it if you''d extend that same olive branch to those that you might not normally perceive as your equals.¡± I spoke with a genuine sense of optimism before I finished off my whole speech by moving up to pat the avian on the shoulder. ¡°And honestly, don¡¯t sweat it. We¡¯ve both been through the wringer tonight, and you especially had to go through that public dressing down which for the record wasn¡¯t okay. I want you to know that, at least within the walls of this room, there will be none of that crap. Here, we¡¯re true equals. No taint stuff, no public stigma for those baseless accusations, no nothing.¡± I gripped the avian¡¯s shoulder just a little bit harder, every word uttered through my vocoders emanating a real warmth to it that lacked any social filters as I gave the princess my most complete and sincerest thoughts. The princess didn¡¯t seem to respond at all as she stood there, utterly dumbfounded and shocked. Her eyes widened and her pupils dilated the same way an owl would in the middle of the night, where they would look like they were completely flabbergasted or indignant about something. I released my hand, and took a few steps back before finally the princess snapped out of her haze, and smiled. This time, it was genuine. There was something about it that just wasn¡¯t like the polite, or courteous, or formal smiles that she¡¯d put on before. There was something raw about this one, and I could tell by the look in her eyes that practically glistened with something resembling a look of epiphany. ¡°Thank you, Emma. Thank you.¡± Was all she said. Yet despite those few words, I could hear a difference in her tone and cadence. It was slight, but it was there. With a nod and an imperceptible smile, I began placing the bags as the princess had requested of me, and eventually turned my sights on my own belongings. I made sure to scan each individual container, starting off with the most vital out of all of them, what was affectionately referred to as the tent. Whilst it bore this rather unassuming, and almost comically simple name, the contents within were anything but simple. Within this cuboid container the size of an oversized lounge chair was the key to my long term survival here in the Nexus. Whilst the suit was technically capable of being used long term if need be, with it being theoretically rated for a full year of complete and continuous use¡­ the prospects of that were more than troubling to say the very least. Even during the theory section of SERE training I almost always lost the battle with the contents of my stomach anytime the discussion for what was known as suit exclusive survival came up. The tent was the solution to that, a little piece of home forcefully carved out of the fabric of the Nexus¡¯ reality. A pocket of safety that defied an otherwise death-filled reality that everyone else here inhabited without a second thought. The entire contents of the container held the bare minimum of what was necessary to facilitate this goal. Namely: the tent itself, the power supply system, and the mana filtration system that would be vital in establishing that pocket of mana-free environment I needed. It honestly surprised me that everything would even fit in a container of this size, what with the generator and filtration system being crammed in there. It wasn¡¯t a surprise then that the fabric of the tent would be so fragile, given how thin and space-efficient it needed to be to be able to even fit in there. With the most vital container squared away and ticked off my list, I moved on to the rest of the 9 containers on the list in order of their significance to survival and mission integrity. The next container held the highly experimental, yet just as vital Mana-Radiation Extraction and Desaturation Device, or the MREDD for short. Whilst shelter was already dealt with in the form of the tent and my suit, food and water still needed to be accounted for. The MREDD was the solution to the latter two issues. The device would be theoretically capable of removing every last scrap of mana-radiation from any matter placed within its extraction chamber. With its rate of extraction directly proportional to the density and permeability of whatever matter is placed within it. The scientists back at home gave me a whole manual on what foodstuffs were more conducive to the extraction process. Wet, airy foods such as whipped cream, souffles, scrambled eggs, and bread were preferable for instance. Whereas harder, denser foods such as pemmican, hardtack, and nuts were contraindicated as they would take not just more time but much more effort and energy to fully drain and purify. The container for this device was just about as large as the tent¡¯s. This was because the filtration unit itself was just about as large, if not larger. The justification for this was simple enough: in order to purify matter and not just air, there needed to be a higher rate of active extraction and energy expended. A continuous and intensive filtration process was needed, which was why the actual extraction chamber was just about the size of a large microwave, and the generator and extraction plus filtration unit was just about half a size larger than the tent¡¯s. What¡¯s more, when not in use, the generator for the MREDD would aid in the large suite of devices I had on hand to repair and maintain my suit, as well as to charge its auxiliary batteries. Indeed, the entire manifest that had been prepared for me consisted primarily of redundancies on top of redundancies, as the third and fourth container would prove. The third was yet another generator, again, the same size as the tent¡¯s at about 5 by 5 feet. This would prove vital in case any one of the generators was faulty or having issues which directly hampered its power generation. The fourth container was far longer and more rectangular in nature, just about as long as a dining table. Within it was a furniture assembler¡¯s nightmare, but it essentially held the framework for a workshop and workstation that was just small enough to fit in my tent. It was designed to hold up my armor, and allow me to easily perform a decent amount of repairs on any part of my suit. Whilst not a mechanic myself, both my manual and my on board EVI would be capable of making up for the gaps in my skill and knowledge. Practically entering a zen-like state of therapeutic relaxation from the checking and cross checking of items on my manifest, a sudden realization would soon hit me that shattered what should have been a relaxing end to an otherwise chaotic evening. The fifth item on my manifest, the container which held the experimental trans-dimensional communication device that I would use to communicate back to Earth with, was missing. And that immediately put me on the clock to retrieve it, or else it and the cargo inside it blew up in my face¡­ or more accurately, someone else¡¯s. Chapter 11: A Ticking Time Bomb A flood of emotions overwhelmed me as I began going through the rest of the containers. Every single one of them was accounted for: spare parts, ammunition, pre-purified foodstuffs, armor mods, and the drones. What remained distinctly unaccounted for out of everything however, was one of the most advanced pieces of equipment out of the entire manifest. The Exoreality Communications Suite, or ECS for short. But that was only half of the story. The fact of the matter was, I was now in a race against time. The IAS was anything if not over prepared. Every contingency was accounted for, and every point of failure had been meticulously planned for months in advance. That¡¯s how they were able to perfect the suit after all. That¡¯s how they were able to ensure that if one particular aspect of the mission was compromised, another could easily take its place. Or at the very least, function adequately enough, in order to maintain an acceptable level of mission integrity. This over preparedness however went beyond planning and preparation for the mission itself. It even took into consideration the fail safes to be activated upon the unlikely event of my untimely demise, as macabre as that was to consider. Indeed, due to a lack of intel on the Nexus and with little to no communication on their end aside from vague and cryptic messages, the IAS had no choice but to double down on their contingency plans. These plans ranged from the simplest of things such as the EVI¡¯s kill-switch, through to the Broken Arrow protocols to be activated in the event I was KIA. Amongst these plans, one in particular had been activated the moment the containers left Earth. It was a contingency that sat somewhere between the EVI¡¯s kill-switch and the Broken Arrow Protocol in terms of its severity. As the scientists and administrators back in the IAS were prone to do, this contingency was given a name quite fitting for its purpose, or rather, the context it was designed for. The Lost and Found procedures. That was, of course, its colloquial name. In actuality, the operational manual penned it as the Denial of Sensitive Assets to Unauthorized Parties protocols, or the DSAUP protocols. I had to agree on the colloquial term this time around. The protocols, or procedures depending on how you looked at them, were deceptively simple. In the case any one container was not signed off on the manifest by its operator, or in the event a container was marked missing, an explosive would be detonated within the container causing the contents within to be rendered beyond practical, operable, observational, and improvisational use by a malicious and, or unauthorized party. The countdown would begin immediately after departure, and was set at 72 hours. As it stood, the rest of the containers displayed a total of 1 hour having elapsed since the timer had begun, which left me with 71 hours on the clock. Panic had slowly set in after that realization. Not just because of the countdown, but primarily due to the possibility of the third trigger for the DSAUP protocols being activated. That being, the detection of substantial and systematic efforts in the forceful and unauthorized access of cargo. So in the case of say, a liberal use of force being detected by the container without operator approval¡­ the explosives would be activated all the same. Whilst in theory the perpetrators would still be safe from harm, with the explosion being confined within the container, there was still a possibility of something going wrong. Especially if the structural integrity of the container had been sufficiently compromised. This realization shook me to my core, and despite the extremely low possibility of the container¡¯s structural integrity failing before the explosives went off, the fact that magic was involved immediately threw a spanner into any risk assessment calculations. My whole body felt like it had just been dealt the greatest sucker punch in the world, and for the 3rd time this night I felt existential dread once more flooding over me. I struggled to find my footing as the suit was quite literally the only thing keeping me from losing my balance. I felt a sense of vertigo spread throughout my form from head to toe, as I closed my eyes and tried my best to remain calm, to regain my footing. Instead of the slow, gradual journey into regaining my bearings however, I felt a warmth flooding over me similar to the one I felt back in the Grand Hall. It started on my shoulder, with a familiar soft and ticklish touch that sent a wave of warmth radiating through my whole body. After being cut off from the outside world for a full 7 hours, and experiencing the first taste of my life stuck behind a wall of synthetic fibers, steel, composites, and glass, a reassuring touch was the last thing I¡¯d expected. But it was one I needed, as I turned around to face this would-be perpetrator and forced out a smile underneath my helmet. ¡°Emma, you have been standing staring at your¡­ boxes for a considerable amount of time now. Are you feeling quite alright?¡± The princess asked with genuine concern. To which I responded with a confident nod, as a renewed sense of purpose and invigoration flooded over me. ¡°Yeah.¡± Now wasn¡¯t the time for panic, it was a time for action. So as soon as I regained my bearings so too did my list of priorities become clear to me. The source of all panic could always be tied to a lack of intel, and perhaps that¡¯s what the Academy was banking on for newrealmers like me. However if the Academy was going to play this game, then they¡¯d find themselves woefully outmatched and underprepared. We were playing by two completely different rule-sets. Heck, I¡¯d say we were playing two completely different games outright. Maxed out spells and tricked out enchantments might have been the name of the game for the likes of Fantasycraft and Hammer of Ages¡­ but I was playing Call to Conflict. They had no countermeasures for the moves I could take. But I had to be wary. Because that same logic went both ways. And despite the starting advantage I had with the armor and the painstaking preparations of an entire government agency behind me, I knew better than to underestimate an opponent, especially one with home turf advantage. At the end of the day, Intel would be the ultimate equalizer here. So it was time to rectify this disparity in situational awareness. Step one on my priority list, was making use of the over preparedness of the IAS¡¯ logistics and supply division. Courtesy of the Administrator herself, who deemed it necessary to push for the over engineered nature of every aspect of this mission, this step would involve the complete and systematic review of the logs from every sensor and camera on these containers. Accessing CARGO DATALOGS¡­ Standing by¡­ DATALOGS Ready. Total raw footage: 793 Hours across 122 cameras. Total raw sensor logs: 527 Gigabytes. Please Specify Query My heart would have sunk if I had to deal with this manually like some intern stuck in a low paying data aggregating job back in the 23rd century. It would take weeks for me to review all the footage in real time, not to mention the utter magnitude of the data recorded by the sensors. Thankfully I wouldn¡¯t have to, as this was where the EVI would come in¡­ ¡°EVI, what¡¯s your status?¡± I spoke within my helmet, making sure all internal audio was severed from the outside world. ¡°Nominal, Emma Booker. What are your orders?¡± ¡°I want a full review of the raw camera footage and sensor scans within the Cargo Datalogs for anything anomalous or that could be considered intentional tampering or misappropriation. Report on anything and everything that could be considered tampering and unauthorized seizure of property that could activate the DSAUP protocols. Prioritize determining the location and whereabouts of Container 10.¡± I barked out, to which the EVI beeped once in affirmation. ¡°Affirmative. Commencing data aggregation and processing¡­ standby¡­ time to completion¡­ 5 minutes and 43 seconds.¡± It spoke. Its voice was very much typical of what I¡¯d expected from a military grade EVI. I didn¡¯t know how or why this norm came to be, but the voice was harsher, gruffer, and more direct than that of most civilian smart systems. If this thing was a true AI and had genuine tonal inflections, I could definitely see it being the most passive aggressive backseat drivers of all time. I was thankful that for my sake the EVI was just that, a simple, dumb virtual intelligence, because being stuck in a suit with a permanent backseat driver was an added stress I just didn¡¯t need. With the first order of business pending, I turned to the next item on my priority list: active tracking. All of the containers were equipped with a corresponding signal I could detect on my scanners. I knew that reviewing the logs would be necessary to narrow down the search radius as it could determine the last known location of the container. But given it would be a full 5 minutes before it was done, there was no harm in at least trying to see if I was able to detect the missing container¡¯s signal. With a few taps of my wrist mounted data-pad, I began pinging for the missing container. The rest of the containers appeared on screen almost instantly. With the ping radius waning as it failed to travel through the thick solid stone slabs of the castle walls. Maybe it was because of the thickness of the walls themselves, and the fact that they only grew thicker and larger with every floor down. Or perhaps there was some latent signal dampening effect due to some enchantment or mana-derived anomaly. Whatever the case was, my scanner wasn¡¯t able to travel further than the dorm, and the hallway in front of it. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. With just under 5 minutes left on the clock, I finally turned to face Thacea, who at this point had been worryingly holding on to my shoulder for the entire duration of my voiceless tasks. The princess would be the third matter to address on my priority list. ¡°Emma.¡± Thacea began, staring at me with those piercing, worrying eyes. ¡°What is the matter?¡± She asked with increasing worry, tightening her grip on my shoulder as she did so. I sighed in response, letting that go through my vocoders as my hands instinctively reached to pinch the bridge of my nose¡­ only resulting in my gloved hands bonking against the glass and steel of my helmet unceremoniously. ¡°I¡¯m missing a container. Er. A piece of luggage. And it holds something very, very important to me.¡± I stated simply, barely able to hide my tired and strained voice underneath a veneer of stoic confidence. This seemed to perplex the avian for the briefest of seconds. It hadn¡¯t occurred to me how this might have looked like from an outsider¡¯s perspective. Whining and basically throwing a tantrum over a lost bag¡­ I must have looked like one of those passengers wheezing and whining at a spaceport baggage claim. To her credit though, Thacea¡¯s expressions didn¡¯t remain entrenched in perplexity, nor did it evolve into disdain or annoyance. No, it moved into the same genuine look of concern and sympathy that she¡¯d shown me multiple times before. ¡°I see.¡± She began nodding slowly. ¡°Can I assume that this piece of luggage contains an item that may be more than just a simple change of clothes, er¡­¡± She looked me up and down. ¡°Armor¡­ plates¡­ in your case¡­¡± She corrected herself before moving on. ¡°And perhaps contains materials vital in sustaining your existence here in the Nexus?¡± She asked, genuinely impressing me as she put two and two together. I¡¯d only just introduced her to the concept of my armor and its intended use during the events of the orientation; and even then it was a short gross oversimplification. So to be drawing from that alone, and making relatively accurate guesswork as to the contents of my cargo, was a pretty sound and reasonable deduction. Plus, if it had been the tent that was missing she honestly wouldn¡¯t have been far off the mark. ¡°No, no. It¡¯s not that.¡± I quickly clarified, as I gave the container containing the tent a few hard slaps. ¡°That is all accounted for right here. I guess I should be grateful that I¡¯m not on a countdown for my assured demise then.¡± But the potential demise for whoever¡¯s messing with the missing fucking box. I spoke jokingly, which certainly didn¡¯t do much to lighten up the princess¡¯ expressions. ¡°Sorry. Right, so, what I¡¯m missing is an item that isn¡¯t necessarily vital to my long term survival no. However, it¡¯s still something that¡¯s¡­¡± Vital to my mission? No, that doesn¡¯t sound right. ¡°... necessary for me to be able to talk to folks back home.¡± I explained simply. Thacea took this information with a certain pause, as if considering something before responding proper. ¡°Emma, the Academy doesn¡¯t allow for unmonitored communications back to your homerealm. In fact, only under extraneous circumstances or matters pertaining to an urgency of livelihood, statehood, or personhood, would a portal be opened for the expressed purposes of engaging in conversation and communication. What you talk of is¡­ forbidden.¡± Thacea explained in a manner that should have sounded blunt, but was tempered by the polite, measured nature of her cadence. ¡°In fact, such a device you speak of is unheard of in any of the adjacent realms.¡± I should¡¯ve guessed as such. It made sense though. Given the fact the Academy seemed hell bent on shaping their students to their own ends, what better way to do this than to deny any and all contact with the outside world? It was step one of starting a cult, making sure that your victims had no lifelines to friends, family, and loved ones. This sent a shiver down my spine, but I didn¡¯t let it bother me too much, given the fact that at least one of my peers seemed smart enough to not fall for those sorts of tactics. Thacea clearly had a good head on her shoulders. That whole spiel about surviving at the Academy together, rather than fighting amongst ourselves, cemented that fact. She¡¯d be an ally through and through, something I hoped only solidified further as time went on. ¡°There are many reasons behind this, Emma. The stated and practical reason is that the liberal use of portals beyond the threshold quota is inextricably linked to the uncontrolled expansion of taint, leading to the destabilization of mana-fields over time. This was but one of the reasons for the Great War after all. The unofficial reason is, as you might have surmised-¡± ¡°Because they want to control the flow of information. By having a monopoly over communication, they effectively control you and your realms.¡± I interjected, cocking my head, as it was effectively the only way I could convey a questioning gesture beneath the hardened layers of metal and synthetic weave. Thacea responded to that rude interruption not with a look of royal disapproval, but a smile of understanding. ¡°Precisely.¡± She responded curtly. We stared at each other knowingly for a few moments, as I pondered the importance of my local guide into this alien reality. Thacea clearly had all the traits of someone who knew how to survive. She was smart, witty, she knew how things actually worked. She was a survivor, and she needed to be given her rank and the rampant discrimination she faced with her taint status. I really am living a fucking fantasy epic aren¡¯t I¡­ I thought to myself. All those years of reading intense fantasy politics are finally going to be put to good use. ¡°There is a certain¡­ danger with retrieving your lost luggage if you do wish to pursue it, Emma.¡± Thacea warned, her expression shifting to a dourness and severity that I hadn¡¯t seen before. ¡°The Academy prefers to play by its own house rules. There are victories that they will tolerate, and some they will not. They practice social warfare in a manner of back and forth escalation. A slight for a slight, a transgression for a transgression. Whatever you wish to win, you will have to lose in comparatively equal terms.¡± Thacea paused for a solid moment, as if pondering and considering what next to say. ¡°You need to know something before we proceed Emma. As a newrealmer, you may not be aware of how our society fundamentally operates. You need to understand that the Nexus, and by extension the Adjacent Realms, adheres strongly to the idea of saving face. One¡¯s personal reputation, integrity, and honor, is all tied to this. I have reason to believe the loss of your luggage is intentional, and I believe that by pursuing it, you may incur further wrath than you already have.¡± A wave of indignation filled me as I responded in kind, not so much frustrated at the princess but at the social institutions that underpinned everything here. ¡°So what¡¯s the danger in pursuing my lost luggage? Actually, scratch that, what the heck did I even do and whose wrath did I incur?¡± ¡°The binding ceremony.¡± Thacea answered promptly. ¡°The fact that you not only resisted it, but caused an uproar within the faculty, is more than certain to have caused one or more of the staff to lose face. Even as we speak, I assume the Dean, the black-robed and blue robed professors to be in heated arguments over your resistance to it. It may not have been intentional, Emma, but you may have inadvertently caused a few of the higher ups to already lose footing amongst their own. This¡­ loss of luggage as it stands, is a relatively minor price to pay given the humiliation and loss of face the faculty had to contend with in front of their own peers and the public.¡± Thacea finally removed her hand from my shoulder, taking a moment to address me with a deliberate austerity that reminded me of the Administrator''s talks with her fellow higher ups. ¡°It¡¯s a warning, Emma. It¡¯s a warning to accept this one loss, in restitution for the loss you¡¯ve inflicted on the faculty. It is a token of peace, in a manner of speaking. If you leave it at this, then I can only assume that moving forward, they¡¯ll have forgiven the whole debacle in the Grand Hall. The faculty will move on from this infraction of their unquestionable status, and you can move on with only a single article of luggage missing.¡± The princess seemed more at home now with this whole speech. This wasn¡¯t just the skittish, submissive bird I¡¯d seen in the Grand Hall. This was the mind of someone who had to survive the cutthroat world of court politics, and all of the nonsense it held. I took a moment to gather myself as I assessed my options, and took a series of deep audible breaths in and out. ¡°Alright.¡± I started. ¡°Alright. I understand.¡± I continued, as I tried to wrack my head around this whole situation. ¡°However, I have to disagree with you on a few particular points, Thacea.¡± I finally pushed back, garnering a look of questioning curiosity from the avian as she nodded for me to continue. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt your perspectives. You have invaluable insight into how things work over here, and I can¡¯t thank you enough for that.¡± I gave the avian a slight bow in gratitude. ¡°However, whilst your expertise may be in politics, mine is in the art of war. And at this point in time, an unconscionable threat has just begun with a clock that continues to tick down further and further toward a point of no return. Because this matter isn¡¯t just a show of politics. It¡¯s a palpable threat as the container in question holds technologies far beyond the capabilities of the Academy, and heck, perhaps the entire Nexus. We¡¯re talking about the theft of technologies that would far outweigh any social restitution this may involve. As it stands, I cannot sit by and allow political acquiescence to trump strategic losses.¡± I explained in no uncertain terms. ¡°And what¡¯s more¡­¡± I began to trail off, my heart once more beating out of my chest as I shook in place, debating whether it was worth it bringing someone else into this¡­ but soon realizing that my chances were better with someone else with this level of insight into a place I had no intel on. ¡°There¡¯s a potential that if they try to open it, it might end up hurting a lot of people, Thacea.¡± The avian¡¯s expressions shifted dramatically upon this revelation, as she met my gaze with a single, plainly spoken question. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°The container¡­ it¡­ my people saw it fit to place a device within it. A device that has the ability to completely destroy all the contents inside. This device was designed in such a way that without my interference, it will activate within a set amount of time. In addition, should the container detect sufficient evidence of tampering, it also has the ability to activate this device. In normal circumstances, the container is capable of withstanding the destructive forces of this device. However, in the event the container¡¯s structural integrity is compromised beyond a certain point, there is a possibility of the container failing and thus leading to unintended collateral damage to anything and anyone around it at the time of its activation.¡± I stated simply, succinctly, almost repeating verbatim what the logistics technicians had briefed me in preparation for this mission. Thacea¡¯s eyes once more sharpened, as she cocked her head, deep in whatever analytical thought she was busy tackling. It didn¡¯t take long however before she¡¯d reveal what was on her mind, and her response wasn¡¯t what I was expecting. ¡°Emma, if you¡¯re worried about the Academy¡¯s staff falling prey to a simple trap spell, then rest assured your concerns are unfounded. These are some of the most powerful, renowned, and accomplished magic users in the known Nexus. There shall be no losses aside from that of your communications artifice.¡± The princess announced resolutely, without a hint of fear or concern left in her voice. Her expressions shifted to that of a relieved sense of calm, complete with a reassuring smile. ¡°Thacea¡­¡± I spoke under an exasperated breath. ¡°This isn¡¯t something that you can just wish away using a spell or flick of a wand. There¡¯s no dispelling spell or resistance magic or whatever that can get you out of this one. This is a bomb, Thacea. And no matter what these magic users do, there¡¯s nothing that they can do to stop it.¡± Chapter 12: Bridging the Gap It was at that very moment that I realized the sheer disconnect between the realities of my world, and that of Thacea¡¯s. In that crossroads between genuine understanding and gross misinterpretations did I finally get it. The SIOP manual had touched on it multiple times, the instructors at the IAS had hammered home the concept across several lectures, yet it was only now that I began to viscerally understand the concept of fundamental systemic incongruence. To put it in a way that didn¡¯t sound like a scientist had gotten carried away with a thesaurus, all FSI was, was the idea of a world different enough to lack the ability to understand our own but advanced enough that they¡¯d have their own interpretations of it. It isn¡¯t just about a lack of skill or knowledge though. It¡¯s that a completely different knowledge system had already been formed, studied, and developed into entrenched schools of thinking entirely alien to our own. From there, a sense of reality is derived that is as solid and concrete as the way we would understand our reality. It makes the explanation of something as simple as say, a bomb, far more difficult than it would be to someone who simply didn¡¯t know what a bomb was to begin with. Because someone like Thacea clearly understood the general concept and destructive potential of an explosive. Again, it wasn¡¯t so much that she didn¡¯t have that concept to begin with. If that were the case, then the whole situation would be as simple as laying down the foundations to an entirely new concept. The issue is that something similar enough already existed, so explaining the actual concept of a bomb would require upending existing beliefs and understanding. It¡¯d be like me walking up to an engineering student in Harvard or Yale, and telling them that a few magic spells could replace their high-yield antimatter bomb. We both knew what an explosive was. However, we ultimately had two very different entrenched approaches on how that explosive came to be, and how it even worked. This made explaining the severity of the situation to Thacea, a potentially difficult prospect. Indeed, this set the precedent for just how difficult it would be to communicate anything I took for granted to the residents of the Nexus and the Adjacent Realms. So with that in mind, I took a deep breath as I prepared myself to bridge this gap in understanding. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t quite follow, Emma.¡± Thacea responded to my warnings. ¡°Just how is it impossible for the foremost manipulators of mana in the Nexus, to dispel a simple trap spell? You describe it as a bomb, and indeed, we do have such weapons in our arsenal. However no matter how clever or novel the artificed machinations may be, even they are susceptible to the same dispelling measures all Academy graduates, let alone staff, are well versed in disabling.¡± There it was. That massive gap in understanding, the effects of FSI on full display. I knew that hyper-fixating on explaining the core mechanics of a bomb wouldn¡¯t work. It¡¯d fix this one lapse in understanding, but it wouldn¡¯t be addressing the core issue. I needed to pull the rug right out from under her. Thacea was smart, and I knew if I nudged her in the right direction, pointed her to see just how different our realities were, that she¡¯d figure it out on her own. ¡°Thacea, I¡¯m not sure how well I can explain this, but you remember how I told you that I need this suit to survive, right? That mana is dangerous and fundamentally incompatible to my kind?¡± I began methodically, causing the first of the cogs of realization to turn in the avian¡¯s brain, her eyes sharpening with that same analytical gaze she¡¯d given me before. The implications of a truly mana deficient realm, leading to a species that had no innate abilities to deal with said mana, was starting to sink in. ¡°Are you saying that this device you speak of, isn¡¯t a form of artificed trap, or a trap spell?¡± Thacea¡¯s voice hitched up, her eyes shifting back and forth as she was faced with the Earth shattering realization of a society devoid of any mana-based sciences and technologies. ¡°But that¡­ no, then how would, your armor, your luggage, your civilized tendencies and your knowledge of inter-realm communications¡­ that¡­ those can¡¯t just¡­¡± She took a moment to compose herself, her feathers puffing up as she did so. I gave her a moment to think about the ramifications of this realization. It took a solid minute as she shuddered in place, her plumage causing her cloak to rise up and fall in rapid succession, her eyes ravaged by whatever thought processes were going inside of that avian mind. Without warning, she reached her hand to touch my armor, tracing her fingers up and down my chest plate, my shoulder pads, and even my gauntlets. Her fingers reached over to tap my tinted lenses as if to reinforce whatever reality checks she was currently going through. ¡°Am I correct in assuming that none of this. Not a single piece of masterfully forged metal was born from artificed hands? That these immaculate glass pieces weren¡¯t blown from mana breath blowers? That the forging process itself wasn¡¯t derived from mana-powered implements or equipment? Or any mana-based methodologies? That¡­ that this, this metal was forged using the same techniques as a primitive backwater town¡¯s blacksmith lacking any modern implements?¡± She asked with a voice that was surprisingly composed for someone going through a reality altering realization. Though it was very much far more emotive than the nonplussed, lofty royal inflections she used back in the Grand Hall. ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± I began, deciding to take the princess¡¯ passing remark as a jumping off point. ¡°I assume you guys have blacksmiths that don¡¯t use any magic or mana-infused, mana-based, equipment right?¡± ¡°Yes. Hence why I brought this up given how it¡¯s physically impossible to craft something so advanced without the usage of mana-¡± ¡°Alright.¡± I quickly interjected before the princess could trail off any further. ¡°I want you to imagine a society, a civilization, that never stopped doing that.¡± I paused for a moment to grab my tablet, and had the EVI run through the cultural exchange database for the images I needed to illustrate my point. ¡°We started from the same primitive origins. Yeah. But we didn¡¯t have any mana, or any of this magic stuff to work with. So we improvised.¡± The image on screen started off with a primitive, backwater forge Thacea had probably conjured up in her headspace, before it moved to more advanced metalworking techniques. Larger blowers, more manpower poured into the art of metallurgy. ¡°Brute forcing it was one way, but we discovered we could do better by learning about the fundamental principles behind it. First by trial and error and experimentation. Then, gradually, painstakingly, and over a great amount of time, we slowly but surely built up our understanding on the subject using the scientific method.¡± The pictures moved fast, from old metalworking workshops from the middle ages all the way through to the industrial revolution where factories and foundries containing massive crucibles filled with molten metal sat in endless rows at the height of the pre-automated era industrial scale mass production. ¡°We advanced not with the help of your invisible and untouchable mana, but by using the principles we learned that governed the world¡­ and using them to our advantage.¡± The images moved quicker still, through the world wars, with foundries and assembly plants forging larger and larger pieces of iron and steel¡­ piecing together trucks and battleships alike. The images continued up to the 21st century with large-scale industrial production that became increasingly more advanced with the advent of automation and computer assisted systems, before finally landing on a factory packed to the brim with CNC machines of varying sizes and makes. ¡°You see, Thacea, it took us thousands of years before we got to where I am. The armor you see me wearing is the culmination of thousands of generations of blood, sweat, and toil. I wear the legacy of a million scientists, engineers, forge workers, technicians, and miners. I carry their legacy on my shoulders with every minute of my existence here in the Nexus. Your little small-town blacksmith? Well, we were once them, the only discernible difference being we have the benefit of the knowledge garnered by millenia of human tenacity and innovation. All done without the aid and shortcuts mana seems to afford.¡± I finished off that explanation with a strong sense of pride in my voice. Thacea didn¡¯t even look or flinch away once as she went starry eyed at the tablet in front of her. In fact, her eyes seemed to have adapted quickly to the blinding light of the device unlike Ilunor. I knew that a lot of it went over her head. It would take weeks upon weeks to fully explain every little aspect of each photo to her. In fact, I knew that the more modern a picture was, the longer it would take for me to carefully point and elaborate on every single object seen within the pictures. That¡¯s why I stopped at the late 21st century, prior to the advent of truly stellar scale mass production and industrial processes. I didn¡¯t need to explain everything just yet, I just needed to prove a point, and that blacksmith was a jumping off point that was too good to pass up. ¡°I¡­ I am¡­ I am going to assume then that¡­ that this trap, this bomb of yours is formed on the same mana-deficient principles. That you managed to construct such a violent weapon, without the aid or enrichment of mana?¡± Thacea concluded, her voice bordering between disbelief and a dour severity. ¡°Precisely.¡± There were a solid few moments of silence that followed as the princess moved wordlessly towards one of the couches in the room and sat on it with a slow, practiced movement. She gestured for me to follow which I did, as I took the seat in front of her, and another spike of mana radiation hit me. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 225% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. It was clear that the princess was becoming quite used to making sure the seats I parked myself at were safe from my massive weight. ¡°This would mean that the Academy staff have no recourse in the dispelling of this¡­ destructive device. This bomb of yours.¡± Thacea continued, her eyes now filling up with the same worry that I currently felt as the ramifications of this threat grew further and further. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t even have a means of detecting it, if it runs on¡­ on¡­ what? Fire?¡± Thacea struggled to finish that train of thought. Perhaps, for the first time in her life, she couldn¡¯t find a proper analog for a principle she thought she understood. No gunpowder, no traditional form of explosive to pull from. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a complex mixture of several chemicals derived from synthetic processes.¡± I began, as I actively tried to ignore the EVI¡¯s attempts at pulling up the encyclopedia page for this incendiary infused explosive. The stupid thing was thinking I was looking to recite the device¡¯s entire mechanism verbatim. ¡°The chemicals are mixed and prepared in such a way that it remains stable, even when you kick it or hit it really, really hard. The only way to activate it is using a very specific device that is designed to make it explode. That same device is counting down towards a time where it will explode. It also has the ability to determine if the box is being forcibly opened, in which case, it will also explode. And yes, none of this is mana-derived.¡± I reiterated, as Thacea¡¯s expression continued to shift between utter shock and serious concern. ¡°Chemicals.¡± Thacea mimed back. ¡°Mixing. Preparing.¡± She continued. ¡°Is this some perverse mana-deficient alchemy?¡± Again, she was grasping at straws and comparing it to what she knew. Which was to be expected. ¡°Yes. Sort of. Roughly. I guess it¡¯s superficially similar, yeah.¡± Thacea¡¯s gaze pierced through my lenses again. This time however, it was clear she understood what was at stake. ¡°Emma, as much as this goes against social conventions I believe the situation you find yourself in is unorthodox enough that it warrants unconventional solutions. I approve if you wish to try to get your luggage back. However, understand that it may not be possible, especially at this hour. I¡­ I suggest we try first thing in the morning, after breakfast.¡± Thacea offered. The cognitive dissonance and logical disconnect I felt at that plan was absolute whiplash. It was clear she understood what was at stake now, heck, she even stated it outright. The fact that she wanted to wait this out just didn¡¯t click with me. ¡°In the morning? Thacea, whoever took the damn containers could be working on prying it open as we speak. We¡¯re risking someone getting seriously hurt, or worse, if we don¡¯t do something about this now.¡± I shot back. ¡°Emma. I understand the severity of the situation, however you will find it physically impossible to leave after curfew.¡± Thacea answered back sternly, without anything else muddying her tone of voice. She was giving it to me straight. ¡°There are measures to keep students from leaving their dormitories, especially during this 5 day grace period. In addition to this, I can assure you that no one will be attempting to access the contents of your box at this hour. It¡¯s tradition after the binding ritual to maintain vigil and recite powerful spells on the book of names throughout the entirety of the night to ensure that the desired effects of soulbinding takes effect. In addition, I¡¯m more than certain that due to the presence of two anomalous names in the book, yours and my own, that the process will be deliberated and drawn far beyond what is to be expected. Emma¡­¡± The avian paused, making sure to emphasize her point by maintaining unflinching eye contact with me through the opaque lenses. ¡°You must trust me and compromise with me on this particular matter. I am certain that we have time. It will be more detrimental if you try to leave now, than wait 7 hours before curfew is over at dawn.¡± With a solemn sigh and an attempt at a smile, the princess shifted gears back into an attempt at empathetic connection. ¡°This night has been hard on all of us. I do not want to see you breaking on day one of the Academy before classes have even begun. Now I do not know much about your kind, but if you¡¯re like the rest of us, you need your sleep. So please¡­¡± Thacea practically pleaded with a mouthful of coos and whirs ending off her speech. I remained silent, giving the princess¡¯ words genuine consideration. She was the only reliable source of intel I had on how best to move forward with any sort of operation I wanted to conduct within the Academy. The name of the game for my mission was long term recon, bordering on infiltration. I needed to extract as much as I could from this whole lone newrealmer candidate quest the Nexus had vaguely demanded of Earth. Making friends along the way, and connections to those near the top of the pecking order of both the Nexus and the Adjacent Realms was a bonus. Garnering long-term assets and allies was something I didn¡¯t see myself accomplishing until much later, but as it turns out, connections are just as important here as they were back at home. Going in guns blazing, rampaging through the halls and sneaking through uncharted and potentially hostile territory was something that would endanger the entire mission. I had to give Thacea¡¯s suggestions a shot. I took a few moments to consider my options. It was at that point that I finally noticed the 10 push notifications from my EVI, as it threatened to flood a good chunk of my HUD with its incessant messages. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked the program, making sure that my voice was again cut off from the outside world. ¡°As per your previous command, I have isolated 4 unique instances of intentional interference, and 1 unique instance of conspiracy to theft. I have marked these files on your Pending Priorities folder for review and further deliberation.¡± The EVI responded in that same, no nonsense, passive aggressive tone of voice. Without much fanfare and with the enthusiasm of a vacationer ready to claim the biannual ticket drop for a trip to Alpha Centauri, I instantly opened the folder on my tablet, going through each of the 4 unique instances mentioned by the EVI. The video feed was cut, edited, and highlighted to display each suspect interaction between the members of the Academy¡¯s faculty and my containers. The footage started the moment the crates found themselves violently flung against the walls of some unknown dungeon-like room after exiting the portal. It continued, showing each of the nine containers being poked and prodded by the likes of several unknown members of staff, with container 10 always in view of each and every cut of footage. It was a level of suspicion and curiosity that I¡¯d more or less expected from the Academy, and honestly if they had left it at that, I wouldn¡¯t be that annoyed by it. Yet as the video continued on, it was clear that they had some unexplained fixation on container 10. It was after a full 10 minutes of footage did I finally move to the file marked conspiracy to theft. This one file had perhaps the most damning evidence of all, and in fact, confirmed all of my suspicions in addition to Thacea¡¯s own predictions. I quickly shot a glance at Thacea, as I turned the tablet around for the both of us to view. ¡°Thacea.¡± I began. ¡°You need to take a look at this.¡± Her avian eyes locked onto my screen as it began playing the footage that showed container 10 in plain sight. Three figures stood next to it, with another figure in the far upper right of the screen hidden from view, but clad in a signature blue robe. Whilst the identity of the figure hidden from view was to be decided, the 3 figures currently in view and collectively staring at the container was undeniably the black robed Mal¡¯tory, the female elf from a half hour prior, and her armor-clad gargoyle. ¡°I would have preferred to study everything, however, it is clear that the Earthrealmer has a¡­tenacious penchant for independence. Removing more than a few of her belongings would more than likely trigger a violent reaction befitting of her less than enlightened primitive tendencies. Such is the nature of the newrealmers.¡± Mal¡¯tory unabashedly announced, causing my blood to begin simmering once again. ¡°They are territorial, bloodthirsty, and they act more like a pack of wild animals laying claim to land and property like the unruly dragons of the realm. As such, I deem it wise to remove only one item from her strange collection of eclectic boxes.¡± Mal¡¯tory pointed towards Container 10, and not once made contact with the box, relying solely on the female elf and the gargoyle to shuffle and move it around. ¡°Professor, this is outrageous.¡± An unseen voice uttered from off camera. The same voice belonging to the blue robed professor. ¡°You¡¯re acting like a savage pillager. Please, let us be sensible. If you wish to study her anomalous belongings, then wait until the morning to request as such. To take them, and to have your apprentice explain it away as a bold-faced lie is unbecoming of a man of your titles-¡± ¡°Vanavan.¡± Mal¡¯tory interjected with a seething, cold annoyance. ¡°I am doing this for your Dean. A message must be sent to the Earthrealmer that concessions must be made for insubordinate actions against us. Given your lack of a spine, it is clear that I am the only one to be capable of shouldering this responsibility.¡± ¡°Professor, listen to me. You know as well as I the ramifications of the Earthrealmer¡¯s mere presence here. She should not be able to walk amongst our own, and yet she does so with ease and indifference. We¡¯ve seen the existence of a null-fielder, a mana-less, an aura-less capable of feats of craftsmanship that shouldn¡¯t be possible. Consider the ramifications of a society behind the portal that is capable of such a feat without the aid of mana-¡± ¡°Silence!¡± Mal¡¯tory shot back, losing his temperament for a split second before pulling himself together in the same ambivalent fashion. ¡°Your fear blinds you, Vanavan. Your lack of initiative further hobbles you. If you fear the Earthrealm so much for its anomalous existence, then work with me to understand it. Further, consider this possibility: how likely is it that a world lacking mana is capable of such feats?¡± ¡°Under standard conventions it should not be possible. They should be flinging sticks and stones like barbarians, or trapped in the early iron age in small towns and villages.¡± Vanavan answered. ¡°Then entertain this hypothesis: is it or is it not possible that another realm or another magical patron has bestowed upon the Earthrealmers the gifts of advanced mana artificing? That they are but a race of spoiled children or the pawns of some greater force working to undermine the Nexus and all we stand for? Is it not more likely than the existence of a completely mana-less society creating such wonders?¡± Mal¡¯tory professed, which prompted Vanavan to go entirely silent. ¡°Consider that fact, Vanavan. Consider it with great severity. The Earthrealmers may simply be the scouts for another unknown power which threatens the integrity of the Nexus and the Adjacent Realms. I have no doubt in my mind that they are mindless, savage pawns, dressed up to confuse and to throw us off. There is no possibility that a civilization lacking mana is capable of any of these feats.¡± It felt to me like Mal¡¯tory was pushing further and further into his own delusions, as the rest of the containers were slowly carted off, meaning the camera was being carted off as well. ¡°I still don¡¯t think this is the best way to move forward, Professor. However, we have more pressing matters to attend to. The binding ceremony¡¯s followup rituals are already underway. Considering the tainted one and the Earthrealmer, this might take us a night or two to complete.¡± Vanavan spoke, just as the footage cut off. The rest of the containers and the camera filming the scene, being carted off to a set of familiar halls. Thacea turned to me with an expression that was very much becoming the theme of the entire night, one fraught with concern but blanketed by a general look of exhaustion. ¡°I am going to assume that this is yet another one of your mana-deficient artifices meant to hold moving images and sounds?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± The avian took a deep breath, her exhale generating a small melody in the process. ¡°I will also assume that these are accurate memory shards of the events preceding the arrival of your luggage to the room?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Another deep inhale and exhale punctuated the silence between Thacea¡¯s response. ¡°It is clear that we have sufficient evidence to support our assumptions now. Your luggage has indeed been taken, and the aims of this seizure of property is both political and practical. It is likewise clear, however, that the faculty will be preoccupied for the entirety of this night and the following night. As a result of this, my point stands, Emma.¡± With an affirmative nod of understanding, I finally gave in and acquiesced. ¡°You¡¯re right. Let¡¯s get this whole operation on the road first thing in the morning then.¡± Chapter 13: Some Assembly Required Sleep would not come as easily to me as it would with Thacea and the rest of my peers. All they had to do to retire for the night was to decide on which of the two soft, plush, magical mattresses they preferred before casually slipping under the covers to enjoy some much needed shuteye. Me on the other hand? Well, I was stuck with one of two choices: either sleep in the armor, or get my tent set up so I could sleep properly. The problem was, the latter option was going to take hours. So as Thacea began her long drawn out beauty routines for the night, enjoying the supple warmth of our en suite bathroom, and the five-star hotel treatment that was the limitless supplies of amenity kits she used to care for her feathers; I was stuck unfurling and unfolding both the tent and the various kits necessary to get it up and running. It was an ordered sort of chaos, something you¡¯d expect from the deployment of a self-assembling deployable rapid assembly shelter (DRASH) before the designated engineering team or their engineer drones came in. However, whereas even the most under-strength units had the benefit of an extra pair of helping hands, I was stuck doing this solo, with nothing but my two hands and the power armor¡¯s exoskeleton to compensate for my exhausted and worn-out muscles. The extra manipulator claw that extended from my backpack was nothing short of a godsend, aiding me at points where my arms found it particularly difficult to reach. Indeed, this whole setup procedure really stretched the definition of what individual assembly meant. I¡¯d requisitioned a good section of the bottom floor for my base of operations. Thacea, to her credit, seemed understanding and very much tried her best to ignore the mess that was quickly taking hold of an otherwise well appointed room. Couches, armchairs, and a coffee table or two had been pushed aside so that I had ample space to work with. The tent itself resembled the self-assembling rapid assembly shelters (DRASH) that had been popular during the third extrasolar wars. It consisted of a rectangular main frame, with an angled ¡®roof¡¯ that Thacea had mentioned reminded her of the working class homes commonplace within the Nexus. However, whereas the titular shelters my tent resembled were in fact self-assembling, the tent I¡¯d been assigned was anything but. Self-assembly was often reliable, yes, but failures did occur. Automated systems had a tendency to malfunction sometimes, and even after fully deployed, there was still a chance that something could go wrong. As a general rule of thumb, the IAS demanded that a majority of mission-sensitive equipment was to be simplified as best as possible. This was done all in an effort to lower the potential risks for a malfunction that would¡¯ve necessitated complex, time consuming repairs or worse¡­ replacement parts and supplies that simply could not be shipped. It was an exercise in thinking outside the box for a majority of the logisticians who were used to the UN¡¯s endlessly reliable supply chains. As a result, most of the advisors on the project were on loan from the UN¡¯s Long Range Expeditionary Forces; the sole branch of the UN¡¯s armed forces that were meant to go beyond the generally accepted sphere of expansion. They were meant to operate independently from UN supply lines for years on end, and so this necessitated the designing, planning, and implementation of novel solutions to what would otherwise be simple fixes offered by an unending stream of readily available supplies. The LREF¡¯s logisticians and engineering corps were a godsend for the IAS, and for the planning of a mission of this caliber. I had to thank them for creating everything that would ensure my long term survival here in the Nexus. However, I also had to remind myself to give them a piece of my mind when I got back home, because despite it supposedly being user friendly, it¡¯d taken me nearly a full hour to get everything set up. By that time, Thacea had found herself wrapped up in what I could only describe as a 10-piece set of fine silken and fur-lined robes and wraps. Each one looked comfier than the next, as they wrapped her arms, wings, waist, torso, legs, and tail independently of one another. Whilst she distinctly lacked hair, even her head feathers were wrapped up as well, reminding me of the stereotypical image of a spa-addicted suburbanite having just come off of a particularly overly complex spa treatment. ¡°I just wished to bid you a good night, Emma.¡± The princess spoke with a tired, composed coo. Both of her hands were wrapped around a steaming hot mug, the aromas from which were lost to the intense filtration efforts of my suit¡¯s respirators. ¡°Ah, Thacea, you really didn¡¯t need to do that.¡± I responded, raising a single arm behind my head as I instinctively went in to scratch behind my neck, only to have my gloved hand make contact with the upper part of my armored nape. ¡°Well I insist on it. After all, it¡¯s the least I can do since I cannot offer you a cup of my night time tea.¡± She continued, hiding a yawn as she did so. ¡°I shall retire for the night now. I suggest you do so as well, Emma. And please, try to relax for the night. Worrying now will only hinder the trials we will inevitably face in the morning.¡± ¡°Sure thing, princess. I¡¯ll try my best.¡± I smiled back, as I entered the tent and began the slow, gradual process of mana extraction and desaturation within.
2 Hours Later Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0200. The removal of mana had taken longer than the anticipated one hour as outlined by the field operations manual. In fact, it¡¯d taken about twice as long. A combination of one machine or another requiring constant re-calibration, and power fluctuation and cycling issues from the dual generator systems, caused a great number of unexpected delays to the actual operation of the mana extractors. This culminated in the less than desirable effect of me being stuck in the air-locked section of the tent for over 2 hours. Watching, waiting, staring, and exhausted beyond all belief as all I could do was stare into a space that was slowly, but surely being drained of that invisible deadly killer that was mana. The air-locked section was just wide enough for me to turn around in, but that was about it. I couldn¡¯t even sit in it. Those two, drawn out hours were spent primarily rereading and rechecking the safety protocols for the tent, and punctuated by more than a dozen microsleeps that made me question everything about my life up to that point. After the mana was fully drained however I was met with a completely empty, unappointed tent. A dull, nondescript, stark white interior reminded me of the interiors of biohazard containment popup shelters popularized during the late 23rd century¡¯s outbreaks. Since most of the equipment and furnishings assigned to me were still outside in their own separate crate, it¡¯d take another good hour if I intended on bringing them through the cargo airlock. It was a task I just wasn¡¯t up for. I needed out now. So, with little fanfare, but with all the checks necessary done to satiate the EVI, I emerged from my suit like a newly metamorphosed butterfly from the remains of its cocoon. The suit¡¯s pneumatics whirred and hissed, as the back of the suit¡¯s armor pieces moved apart to unlatch itself, followed by the exoskeleton which for all intents and purposes ejected me from the confines of my suit. I practically leaped out of the still-standing, now completely lifeless hunk of synthetic weave, metal, and polymers, landing with a dull thud on the reinforced flooring of the tent. Clad in my skintight undersuit as I was, I still felt as if it was a massive upgrade from the noticeably fake haptic feedback it gave me through the suit. Because now? I could feel the world around me again. The carefully designed, completely artificial surroundings of a bigger prison yes, but it was actual, honest to god tactile feedback all the same. I sprawled out on the floor like an oversized cat, stretching and popping my aching joints as I lay there completely and utterly drained. Staring back at the power armor, I could feel a strange disconnect now between it and myself. So that¡¯s what I look like. That¡¯s how the world sees my face. Those deep, existential, metaphysical thoughts however were short lived. As even without the comforts of my assigned sleeping bag and the rest of the amenities I¡¯d been provided, I passed out. Right then and there on the floor, at the metal-clad feet of the power armor.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0700. They say that the more exhausted you are, the better your sleep. Well fuck whoever said that. Because they probably had a soft, plush, springy mattress to sleep on. Not the cold, hard floors of a tent designed almost exclusively to keep me alive and nothing else. I woke up in a daze. In a pool of my own drool and with the worst case of bed hair in my life. I spent a good few minutes struggling to determine where I was and what I was doing before I accidentally bonked my head hard against the shins of the power armor while attempting to get up. This prompted me to reorient myself, sitting cross-legged in front of the lifeless suit of armor that stared down at me in its resting, standby position. I felt small from this vantage point. In fact, if Ilunor wasn¡¯t such an obnoxious and objectively reprehensible asshole, I would¡¯ve empathized with how he probably felt going up against this utter monster of a creature. I didn¡¯t know why I spent a lot of time in that position, maybe I was just savoring the few minutes I had before I had to voluntarily put on my oversized life support system again. Maybe it was just because I was savoring the feeling of my face not being smooshed up against the rebreather inside of the helmet. Whatever it was, I knew that I was just burning daylight by just sitting there. So, without much in the way of fanciful self reflection, I got up to my feet and began running the appropriate diagnostics. My undersuit, albeit skintight and resembling something of a wetsuit, was a technological marvel in and of itself. The active thermal insulation and environmental control systems needed to be recalibrated, cycled, and synced up with my suit before I got back in. Indeed, the whole suit needed a look over for any faults before I got the all-clear from the EVI to jump back inside. It took a little bit of finagling without a stool, or what the technical experts back at home called the height assistance device, for me to actually get inside. The suit was, however, designed with the ability for zero assistance entry. It was just a bit harder to do. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Using two of the barely visible internal support bars, I managed to worm my way back inside, and without any warning the whole thing sealed me in within a matter of seconds. I didn¡¯t feel claustrophobic however, that mentality was practically drilled out of me during the months of grueling training. With a few wriggles and some additional servo diagnostics, I was once again ready to enter the alien world I now called home. Exiting the tent through the airlock, I was met with what felt like an entirely new room. The floor to ceiling windows that had been dark and muted at night now allowed for the morning skies to filter through. Its colored, stained glass, imprinting patterns on the floor were nothing short of an artistic masterclass in creativity. Now this was what I expected out of a magic school. It would¡¯ve honestly impressed me as well if it wasn¡¯t for the literal ticking time bomb still counting down somewhere in this castle. ¡°Ah, Emma, I was starting to get worried.¡± I heard a familiar voice chirp out. The avian was already dressed and ready to go. Immaculate as ever as she smiled at me warmly. ¡°Morning, Thacea.¡± I managed out through a yawn. ¡°Sleep well?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± The princess seemed conflicted in directly addressing that question, her eyes glancing back and forth between me, and the tent, generators and MREDDs behind me. ¡°There were¡­ a few aspects of this living arrangement I had to adapt to. Namely, the noise generated by those artificed constructs of yours.¡± It was then that I realized a massive drawback I hadn¡¯t even considered before. The fucking noise these machines made. If vacuums were bad enough, imagine something sucking out the essence of the air around you. I hadn¡¯t even considered that as I raised both of my hands in a fit of apologetics. ¡°Fuck, Thacea, I didn¡¯t even consider that I¡¯m so sorry-¡± ¡°It¡¯s quite alright.¡± The princess dismissed my apologies with a wave of her feathered hand. ¡°I took the liberty of encapsulating your area of the room in a noise dampening spell. It would be rather inconvenient to deal with the repercussions of keeping the entire tower awake at night.¡± It was clear the princess had once more managed to cover for the unexpected shortcomings that came with my rather particular lifestyle. Something I honestly had to give her credit for. ¡°Thanks Thacea. Seriously, I don¡¯t know what I would¡¯ve done without you. Drawing more attention and making an entire tower of students absolutely pissed after just the first night isn¡¯t ideal so, thank you.¡± I gave the princess a slight bow of appreciation before we both left the room together. Upon entering the dorm proper, we were immediately faced with the likes of our male counterparts. Both Thalmin and Ilunor waited for us in the living room, ready to discuss our plan of action for the day. ¡°So.¡± Thalmin began. ¡°Both Ilunor and I-¡± The mercenary prince nudging the diminutive lizard with his elbow. ¡°-have agreed to discuss the matter of that monstrous noise from your room in a civil and mature manner.¡± ¡°Thacea, Emma.¡± The lupinor breathed in deeply, as if preempting a carefully thought out and worded speech¡­ ¡°How-¡± ¡°HOW DID YOU SURVIVE THE TAINT¡¯S CONSUMPTION, EARTHREALMER?!¡± Ilunor suddenly shouted out, his eyes practically popping out of his skull as the anxiety and trepidation in his voice was as clear as day to everyone in the room. ¡°Excuse me-¡± ¡°Earthrealmer. I do not want to broach this issue in a manner that will trigger an aggressive response. I have made a pact with the mercenary prince that guarantees my safety from you should you act in aggression without proper instigation. Now, tell me, that noise last night. It was the tainted one¡¯s consumption, yes? Did she attempt to eat you whole? Did her taint swallow you up only to spit you out because of your bizarre suit of armor? Tell me Earthrealmer, tell me, what was it like to claw yourself out of the gaping maws of taint¡¯s unending thirst for the innocent?¡± The diminutive lizard laid it out bare for everyone to hear. Eliciting a series of growls and snarls from the likes of Thalmin who at this point was practically ready to claw out the lizard¡¯s throat. I sat there, blinking rapidly at the crazed lizard who sat with both of his feet tapping the floor beneath him in rapid succession. His tail swayed from side to side, swooshing and cutting through the air like an over-excitable dog. I turned to Thacea to gauge her expression, this taint situation was very much a sticking point of hers after all. Her unamused and frankly annoyed expression said it all. We locked eyes for a second, as if to decide who would be the one to tackle the Ilunor problem. Without much prompting, I decided to do the honors. ¡°Erm, thank you, Thalmin, for attempting to reign in the lizard.¡± I immediately circumvented Ilunor¡¯s questions, deflating his ego for a few short moments as the lupinor could only sigh and nod. ¡°Apologies for letting this get out of hand, I wanted to address this in a manner more befitting of our stations but-¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright, Thalmin. It¡¯s alright.¡± I interjected, wanting to get this done and over with. Turning to Ilunor, I clasped both hands together in front of me, and addressed him using all my mental faculties to restrain myself from a verbal altercation this early in the morning. ¡°To answer your question in one word: no. No, there was no taint consumption. No, there was no drama¡­ well there was, but that¡¯s beside the point. No one got hurt, and nothing happened.¡± I put my foot down both figuratively and literally. This seemed to only peeve the lizard even moreso, but instead of allowing him to dominate the conversation, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Deciding to expedite the situation, I stood up, grabbed Ilunor under both of his arms, and lifted him off to my room. The lizard clearly hadn¡¯t expected this, and for all intents and purposes was taking it surprisingly well as he hung limply from my firm, but gentle grip. In a matter of seconds we were all gathered in front of the tent, as I addressed Ilunor whilst still holding him like an oversized cat. ¡°That.¡± I pointed. ¡°Was the thing that was causing all of the noise last night.¡± I stated in no uncertain terms. ¡°What¡­ what is that-¡± ¡°Thought you¡¯d never ask.¡± I once more cut off the lizard. ¡°Remember how I told you I needed the suit to survive in this mana filled reality you call home? Well, this is just a bigger version of that. It allows me to convert a small patch of this hostile space into a little piece of home.¡± I finally plopped the lizard down, the diminutive thing skittering around a bit, before turning around to face me with a cocked head. ¡°I had just assumed that you¡¯d just-¡± ¡°What? Live inside my suit for the entirety of the year?¡± The lizard turned towards Thalmin, his eyes meeting the lupinor¡¯s, which prompted the pair to lock eyes with me. ¡°We both theorized and assumed that was the case, yes.¡± Thalmin admitted abashedly. This elicited a deep sigh from me, but nevertheless, I was glad to have gotten this over with. ¡°Right so. Any more questions?¡± The pair looked at one another again, before deciding on one to speak for the other. ¡°Whilst I do have more questions regarding these¡­ artifices, and the nature of your¡­ mana intolerance, I believe it is only fair that you ask us a question before we move forward, Emma.¡± Thalmin offered, very much attempting to correct for Ilunor¡¯s lack of tact. I wasn¡¯t expecting that, but honestly, it was a nice change of pace. A litany of questions came to mind, all of which could be traced to the instigating factor behind this entire charade in the first place. This whole obsession with taint. It was because of this that I almost broached the question publicly, and openly, formulating an entire line of questioning in my head¡­ only to stop myself before I said anything at all. My eyes caught sight of Thacea, and in that moment I understood how tactless it would have been to bring up something that was so clearly a sensitive topic whilst the others were around. It would¡¯ve needlessly placed her at the center of attention again, something I definitely did not want. That didn¡¯t change the fact that I needed this piece of intel, however. I couldn¡¯t move forward without addressing the whole taint situation. I couldn¡¯t just walk around campus without knowing why Thacea was constantly being singled out. Especially when considering the fact that the entire day was more than likely going to involve some close cooperation between me and the princess. It was a key piece of context to this whole world that I¡¯d be lost without. So it was time for me to fix my own FSI. ¡°Actually, I do.¡± I began, as I ushered the group towards the bedroom door. ¡°However, I just need a few moments to deal with the tai- I mean, the tent.¡± I quickly corrected myself. ¡°There¡¯s a few things I need to get sorted before we leave so, if you guys could wait outside¡­ but, erm, Thacea, I think I¡¯m going to need a hand with this, if you could stay behind.¡± I gave my best attempt at having the best of both worlds, with both Thalmin and Ilunor confusingly returning to the living room, and me and Thacea backtracking to the tent. With a slam of the door and a quick rush back towards the tent, I turned to face Thacea, who looked at me with a rather unamused expression. ¡°I know what you¡¯re trying to do, Emma, and if I may be so brazen, I must say that your social subterfuge leaves a lot to be desired.¡± The princess complained. I could only stand there with a dumb look plastered across my face, but braved through it regardless. ¡°I¡¯m not going to disagree with you there, princess.¡± I admitted, but soon shifted gears towards the elephant in the room. ¡°So, I¡¯m just going to ride this wave of social ineptitude towards my next port of call. Thacea, I didn¡¯t want to broach this topic publicly with the rest of the guys, heck, I didn¡¯t even want to bring it up when we were alone last night. It¡¯s just something that I thought was rude to bring up or like really hurtful to talk about. But at this point I don¡¯t think it would be in any of our best interests to keep my head in the sand.¡± I took a deep breath, trying my best to remain as tactful as I could. ¡°Thacea¡­ what is taint? And why does it seem to have such a strong social impact on how people perceive you?" The princess¡¯ reactions weren¡¯t what I expected. Instead of the offended, flabbergasted look of a member of royalty confronted with some long standing drama, the expression plastered across Thacea¡¯s face could only be described as mild and remorseful. ¡°I apologize for not explaining this earlier, Emma. I should¡¯ve been more upfront with this aspect of myself that can be as hazardous as the common preconceptions make it out to be.¡± The avian began, which only prompted me to move in closer to place a hand on her shoulder. ¡°If it¡¯s too difficult to talk about, we don''t need to address it right now. It¡¯s just¡­ I didn¡¯t know how else to properly approach this without it being too rude or a big thing or-¡± ¡°No, no. It¡¯s alright Emma. It¡¯s quite alright.¡± The princess attempted to reassure me. ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s something that needs to be addressed. Let¡¯s not fly around the topic, shall we?¡± I nodded once in response. ¡°What do you know of mana-fields?¡± The avian started off with a simple question. ¡°I know that humans lack it. I know that humans don¡¯t have¡­ whatever physiological prerequisites there are to generate it, and as a result, adverse effects occur when an unshielded human finds themselves in a mana-rich environment.¡± I began, stating the obvious and listing off the most relevant facts first. ¡°But do you know how a mana field is formed? Or how mana-fields are used to manipulate mana, and thus create magic?¡± ¡°I mean, the specifics? Not really.¡± I shrugged. ¡°But that¡¯s why we¡¯re here right? To study it?¡± I offered. ¡°Allow me to expedite the process then.¡± Thacea began with a deep breath. ¡°Mana fields are a natural extension of one¡¯s soul. A projection of one¡¯s very core into the ebb and flow of the mana around us. A mana-field is to the soul, what the heart is to the body. It is this mana field that allows for the manipulation of mana for the purposes of magic.¡± ¡°Taint¡­ at its very core, is an affliction of one¡¯s mana-field. More specifically, it¡¯s the corruption of the fabric that ties one¡¯s soul to the field it projects. To many, this distinction is irrelevant and interpretations instead simplify this malady as an outright corruption of one¡¯s soul. In actuality however, the soul is anything but afflicted. This distinction however doesn¡¯t stop prejudice as the effects of this taint are powerful enough to terrify even the most fervent of taint advocates. For you see¡­ the corruption of one¡¯s mana-field allows for novel, unconventional means of mana channeling and manipulation. This results in more powerful magics¡­ but also less stable magics.¡± The princess paused, her feathers puffing up as her tone shifted to a deeper severity.¡°It is, as Ilunor puts it, a source of constant danger for myself, and those around me.¡± Chapter 14: Hello Darkness, I am Emma There was something to be said about the power of the human imagination, and its remarkable ability to suspend its disbelief. It¡¯s through this power that we are able to dream up entire worlds, each with their own sets of internally consistent rules that can feel just as real as our own. This remarkable ability for the human mind to, just for a moment, set aside everything it understands for a momentary escape is more than likely the reason I was taking Thacea¡¯s explanations so readily. It was through these very mechanisms that I didn¡¯t find myself rejecting the logical framework of Thacea¡¯s claims, but instead, ready and willing to embrace it and whatever it may lead to. A childhood enamored with fiction and role-playing just wouldn¡¯t let up, no matter how many years of self-imposed adulting I¡¯d attempted to force upon myself. You just couldn¡¯t take the imagination, the passion of creation and the enjoyment of creativity, out of a human no matter how much you try. So despite me being just as in the dark to the specifics of mana and the implications of magic as Thacea was to the nature of science and technology, my mind didn¡¯t actively try to reject it. No. In fact it did the exact opposite. As that latent, adventurous side of my mind wanted to embrace it, hungry for more just as how I¡¯d been fervently ravenous for more at the end of any good piece of fiction. Except this fiction was reality. A reality just as real and palpable as that of Earth¡¯s, with genuine stakes and actual people. So despite the difference in fundamental rule sets, some of the basic principles I observed back on Earth still had their place here. Thacea¡¯s social ostracization due to her taint wouldn¡¯t make a dent on how I was taught to treat people; with respect to the content of their character and not their birthright. ¡°Well in all honesty Thacea, it feels like the only real dangers to themselves and those around them are the professors, the staff, and the faculty, and I don¡¯t see any of them being tainted.¡± I responded in kind. Thacea stared at me with those analytical eyes once more. Her whole face was stuck in what I could only describe as the default neutral expression she¡¯d often put on when in deep thought. Yet she never got out of neutral, this time around she seemed permanently stuck as if she was unable to handle this one point of divergence in the conversation. It was then that her beak began to open, not in another bout of dour monologuing or another deep dive into the horrors of the Nexus or her realm, but in a precursor to what I could only describe as a series of soft, cackling caws. Caws which were cut abruptly short by the princess¡¯ own social restraint as she eventually landed back on a more bemused version of her polite expression she¡¯d most often used when talking to me. ¡°I¡­ I understand humor as a coping mechanism Emma, and it¡¯s rare that it would actually work on me. However, you must understand that this entire situation, or rather, your reaction to the divulging behind the truth of taint simply cannot be described as¡­ conventional, by any stretch of the imagination. This is¡­ absurdist.¡± I couldn¡¯t quite pin down whether or not the avian meant this as a compliment or an insult, but I let her continue regardless. ¡°Emma¡­ with all sincerity and none of the theatrics, do you not feel in any way¡­ perturbed by this revelation?¡± The dourness started to creep back into the princess¡¯ tone of voice. This prompted me to swoop back in with a response to defuse the situation before it went too far. ¡°Perturbed? By what? The fact that society in the Nexus and the Adjacent realms have decided that the best way to deal with a physiological¡­ magical¡­ soul¡­ issue, is by shunning them and socially ostracizing them instead of helping them? Or the fact that this mentality has become so commonplace that it seems socially acceptable to actively go out seeking verbal altercations with people like you?¡± Thacea remained resolute in her expressions, making sure to maintain that composure of calm, seriousness as she continued. ¡°Emma, haven¡¯t you considered Ilunor¡¯s warnings from the Grand Hall? What he calls consumption?¡± ¡°I assumed he was exaggerating. As he¡¯s prone to do. He¡¯s literally exaggerating about everything. That¡¯s literally his thing.¡± I cocked my head. ¡°So no, I didn¡¯t give it much thought, because I don¡¯t think I should be giving his crap even scraps of my precious processing power that¡¯s already dealing with a new reality that wants me dead, and a faculty that has something out for me, and a literal bomb somewhere in the castle.¡± ¡°I agree. Those are indeed valid concerns¡­ but that doesn¡¯t detract from the current subject matter.¡± Thacea responded promptly. ¡°As I have promised to divulge everything regarding taint; consumption and the more extreme effects of taint must be discussed. What Lord Ilunor speaks of is indeed a valid concern. Consumption, by every metric, is a very real phenomenon. More archaic words for it include Dream Eating, or The Nightly Disappearance. Since taint is inextricably tied to an afflicted individual¡¯s emotional intensity, dreams have a particularly enhancing effect on it. There is no controlling one''s emotions during sleep after all, and in fact, dream-states are shown to be an exacerbating aspect of one¡¯s emotional strength. As a result of this, there have been reports of tainted manipulation of mana to outright¡­ consume the mana-fields of other living beings. Indeed, as this happens, without a mana-field of their own these victims will inevitably fall prey to-¡± ¡°Liquefaction.¡± I stated plainly. ¡°Which also means they¡¯d disappear during the night, right?¡± ¡°Precisely.¡± Thacea responded in no uncertain terms. ¡°Although, I¡¯ve never heard of the term liquefaction used in this context before. I believe your liquefaction, if the highly descriptive term is to be taken at face value, is what we would refer to as synergization, or harmonization. To truly be synergized, or harmonized by mana, is extremely rare. The condition wherein mana overwhelms a mana user, either by overuse or over-consumption of mana, or by one¡¯s mana-field failing or disappearing entirely, is subject to an overarching field of Healing Studies referred to as Mana Sickness. However mana sickness is an overtly broad term which includes such minor mana-field sicknesses such as the adaptation of one¡¯s mana-field to different mana environments, which is the impetus behind the five day grace period we are currently observing. The term refers to anything from one¡¯s mana-field having to adjust to a new environment, or simply the overuse, over-channeling¡­ or in the case of the barbaric mana-eaters, the minor overconsumption of mana. It doesn¡¯t necessarily lead to¡­ liquefaction as you have noted. This is because one¡¯s mana-field is extremely resilient. You¡¯d more often than not see an individual suffer from chronic mana ailments than actually die from synergization. As a result of this¡­ synergization, for the most part, is often tied to consumption, as that is the most likely causative agent behind such a fate.¡± I paused for a moment, as I regarded the euphemisms being used here. ¡°Why the hell do you call something so fucked up, synergization, or fuck, harmonization?¡± I snapped back. ¡°This ties back to the Greater Faith, and the belief that mana flows through, and is the source of all things. It gives, and it takes. To truly be lost to mana, to have your physical form consumed by it, is the ultimate expression of this. In a way, the more fervent believers of the Greater Faith believe that this is an act of synergizing with the mana around you. That you are being harmonized with mana itself. It was, up to a point, a ceremony to be completed by those in the clergy, should they wish to commune with the Gods. However, that is a story for another time, Emma.¡± The completely FUBAR¡¯d nature of this society was not lost on me. If anything, it made me feel even sicker to my stomach to consider it and attempt to extrapolate on it. Focusing on the topic at hand, I attempted to steer the course back to where it was headed. ¡°Right. Okay, I understand.¡± I nodded. ¡°But this still doesn¡¯t change my thoughts and feelings on it, princess.¡± I spoke with a confident smile audible through my vocoders. ¡°Emma¡­¡± The princess reared her head back in exasperation. ¡°Listen, consumption doesn¡¯t concern me. Like, at all. I mean, look.¡± I pointed to my armor and my tent. ¡°Not really an issue for me.¡± I attempted to reassure her. ¡°I¡­ of course.¡± Thacea seemed reluctant, almost unsure whether or not to believe my reassurances as she shifted gears, her troubled eyes signaling another attempt at gauging my thoughts and reactions of her because of this long winded revelation. ¡°That doesn¡¯t detract from the more obvious ramifications of the taint however. I might accidentally hurt you whilst using magic-¡± ¡°If it¡¯s magic in the sense that it¡¯s channeled pure mana, I can take it, no issue.¡± I interjected with a purposefully smug, overconfident grin. ¡°I still might accidentally lose control whilst manipulating physical objects or when casting spells that might cause physical harm to-¡± ¡°Well, one, I move fast. Two, I have armor. I can take it.¡± I interjected again. ¡°But then, even if you can¡¯t see my miasma, it¡¯s-¡± ¡°Even if I could, so what? You got a black inky cloud behind you? Not to be reductive about it, but like, even if I could see it¡­ it¡¯s not really a big deal for me.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Everyone has a bad day, everyone lets their emotions get the best of them sometimes. The fact that you¡¯re so well put together, to the point where your taint didn¡¯t just go wild with spontaneous explosions last night means that whole miasma thing doesn¡¯t really matter now does it?¡± I offered with a reassuring smile, and another firm grip on the avian¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Now, if there¡¯s nothing else, I say we get breakfast. Or well, you guys can at least, I¡¯ll just, y¡¯know. Eat my paste.¡± I shrugged with a self deprecating sigh. There was no way I was going to be able to help deconstruct all of Thacea¡¯s issues in one day, let alone a single conversation. I was brash, and enthusiastic, but I wasn¡¯t that foolish. I knew these things took time, and just like everything else here I was willing to put the time into it that it deserved. Off-ramping from the conversation, Thacea¡¯s expressions shifted to one of a greater sense of calm. There was still a lot going on behind those two eyes of hers. She was, after all, prone to overthinking. Which was a blessing when it came to her help and having her bridge the gap that was FSI, but was likewise¡­ difficult, when it came to issues like this. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°I certainly agree with that sentiment, Emma.¡± She offered, as I felt a greater sense of ease from her after that whole taint situation had been lifted off her chest. ¡°Thank you, Emma. For not just understanding but for your empathy and compassion.¡± ¡°Hey, don¡¯t sweat it. That¡¯s what friends are for right? It¡¯s just how things are back on Earth. We look out for one another as best we can.¡± I reassured her once more as we made our way towards the bedroom door. ¡°One final thing before we head back out there.¡± I stopped, pausing right at the door. ¡°Yes, Emma?¡± ¡°Thalmin and Ilunor. Should we rope them into this whole situation? The bomb thing I mean.¡± I asked bluntly, realizing that at this point in time, Thacea was becoming the closest thing I had to a guide and a confidant in this place. ¡°Peer groups are¡­ an interesting blend of dynamics, Emma. More often than not, if attempts are made to obfuscate or obscure major developments such as the predicament we¡¯re currently in¡­ the truth will eventually find its way to the individuals we had wished to keep in the dark. This can damage what we should be seeking to create: a coherent and strong group dynamic. The Academy created these group-settings on purpose. The higher ups wish to cultivate competition and internal discord which can be taken advantage of. It is in our best interests to ensure that does not happen.¡± Thacea explained succinctly, which warmed me up to the idea of simply accepting the group as what it was clearly shaping up to be. A ragtag team of misfits. ¡°Right, okay, that makes sense.¡± I nodded in response. ¡°Do you trust them though?¡± I quickly added. ¡°Thalmin, yes. The Mercenary Princes and Princesses of Havenbrok are anything if not entirely forthright and blunt to a fault. Whilst many would paint them as liars and thieves, their claim to titles came from contract and blood. They are oath fulfillers, and value truth in the highest regard. Thalmin seems to embody this quite well.¡± Thacea rationalized with that calm, analytical tone of hers. ¡°And Ilunor?¡± ¡°The Vunerian¡­ is difficult. I need more time with that one. However, from what I can tell he¡¯s headstrong to a fault. The only thing we might need to worry about from him is his mouth running amuck and a difficulty in gaining full cooperation from him. He is, however, incapable of putting up an actual fight. However, we should never underestimate Vunerians. Whilst they have indeed obtained a position of prominence in the Nexus itself, it was not done out of mere complacency and subservience to the Crown, but instead, a combination of blind subservience and political maneuvering. But it is too early to tell with Ilunor right now.¡± There was little in the way of much else to be said as I nodded at her once more and let out a sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s get this done and over with then. I can tell it¡¯s going to be a long conversation, so the sooner we get it done and over with, the better.¡± Little did I know, I couldn¡¯t have been any more on the money with that prediction.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. 30 Minutes Later. In order to hammer home the severity of the bomb, in order to explain what a video was, in order to really get the pair on the same page¡­ I needed to start from the top, as I had with Thacea the previous night. This proved to be¡­ a greater challenge than anticipated, as I¡¯d already gone through the logic of the situation twice, and Ilunor¡¯s face still hadn¡¯t shifted from its googly-eyed look of smug disapproval. ¡°Emma, I understand the logic.¡± Thalmin offered to lay down the foundations of a bridge between us. ¡°But what you¡¯re trying to have us believe, is the antithesis to the building blocks of reality.¡± Ilunor piped up, waving his arms around in the air frantically, as if emulating a childish attempt at trying to fly. ¡°For Gods and Goddesses¡¯ sakes Earthrealmer LOOK! I¡¯m causing ripples in the mana-fields as we speak! Weak ripples, but any stronger and I¡¯ll be casting a spell! Look! Just, look! You want me to imagine a world without the constant ebb and flow of mana streams around every living thing?!¡± ¡°Stop hopping about like a raving lunatic, and sit down, Vunerian. The Earthrealmer says she can¡¯t even see mana-fields, what makes you think she has the ability to sense mana-streams, let alone see them?!¡± Thalmin attempted to quieten the lizard. Thacea had chimed in quite a few times throughout this, but each and every one of her reassurances still landed on the same, distressing, pattern of systemic incongruence. It was with that, that I realized I had two cards to play, the soft option and the harder option. For Thalmin, I started with the soft option. ¡°Thalmin¡­ do you think my people would¡¯ve gone through the effort of constructing such artifices for what¡­ theatrics? And do you think I would purposefully lock myself away in an uncomfortable suit of metal for days on end with no apparent gain? I have nothing to gain but everything to lose by doing this.¡± I offered, which seemed to cause the final cogs in the Lupinor¡¯s mind to start turning. For Ilunor, I struck back with the device I wowed him with from the Grand Hall. Pulling out my tablet from my holster, I placed the inert device in front of him and stared him right between the eyes. ¡°Do you sense any mana coming from this?¡± I asked simply. ¡°No. I do not.¡± The Vunerian played along. I soon pulled out the magical scroll, with its text still buffering. ¡°Do you sense any mana from this?¡± ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a magical scroll.¡± The Vunerian spoke with increasing annoyance. ¡°Alright, then, explain this.¡± I tapped the power button on my tablet, verified my identity, and let loose what could only be described as the single greatest flex in computer history. The screen displayed the front cover of a novel, a purposefully complex illustration with more colors than an abstract piece of modern art. With that demonstration of ultra high definition out of the way, I began scrolling through the 500 hundred page monstrosity. Slowly, but surely, I made sure to emphasize each and every page to Ilunor. The words eventually flew by as I sat there for a good 5 minutes to make sure my point was proven. The speed, the content, the utter lack of any discernible mana, all resulted in an Ilunor that had all but conked out of this realm of existence. After the hissing and the growls had died down, Ilunor remained sat in a catatonic state, holding his knees up to his chest, with his arms wrapped around them. He stared at the device in front of him like it was something straight out of an existentialist horror movie, which was equal parts amusing but also somewhat irksome given that we were still on the clock. With my point proven, I addressed him again. ¡°Well¡­ care to explain?¡± ¡°That¡­ that was a trick of¡­ I¡­ the¡­¡± The lizard suddenly leaped up from his catatonic state, surprising everyone huddled around the coffee table as he grabbed the tablet. First in an attempt to look under it, then at its corners, and tapping it on every possible side before landing on the screen again which only caused the brightness to increase, blinding the lizard further. ¡°Where¡¯s the paper Earthrealmer?! I know a contrived series of loaded springs and¡­ and¡­ cleverly hidden papers anywhere! This¡­ this front glass cover is but a magnifying glass and there are papers of incredible craftsmanship hidden within this! I just¡­ just admit it Earthrealmer¡­¡± The lizard was grasping at the last of his straws. This pushed me to make the most logical step in disproving what was effectively the last vestiges of the Vunerian¡¯s inability to truly grapple with the reality of the situation. In a few swift motions, I accessed one of the cultural exchange folders, and tapped on a benign video detailing just a few scenes of some nature reserves on Earth. While doing this I had to make sure not to click on any folder or video that contained any explicit displays of technology, within which were hundreds of hours of videos containing anything and everything from cityscapes, vehicles, spacecraft, and stellar megastructures of wildly different categories. It¡¯d be easier to play a video of something they¡¯d at least have some understanding of, rather than of subjects and objects they probably wouldn¡¯t be able to discern. Landing on a video of a nature reserve on Earth, I started playing it, causing the lizard to immediately go silent, as his eyes and ears were laser focused on the moving images and sound all emerging from a mana-less screen. I didn¡¯t say anything else as I let the lizard process that information for a bit. The mercenary prince had been awfully quiet throughout the entire exchange. His eyes were clearly transfixed on both the tablet and its capabilities, but seemed to give Ilunor the floor for most of the more dramatic reactions. However, despite his best efforts, he clearly couldn¡¯t hide the more lupine inclinations that came with his species. As his long, fluffy tail swished faster and faster with each passing page, and had all but practically gone into overdrive at the stock video being played. ¡°This armor. This device. Everything you see is from a mana-less world powered, shaped, and constructed via mana-less means.¡± I stated as plain as day as Ilunor all but collapsed at the base of the sofa. ¡°What did you wish to gain from this explanation, Emma?¡± Thalmin interjected, taking over for Ilunor who had all but gone AFK for the time being. ¡°I need you to understand who and what I am, or rather, where I come from. I need you to understand why I''m in this suit of armor, and how it is that I''m able to accomplish what you think is impossible without mana. I¡¯m doing this for the purposes of being transparent and frank to each and every one of you as a peer group, but also¡­ because we have a bigger issue to deal with.¡± I replied succinctly as I went over to the tablet, taking the time to prime everyone with the footage from the previous night. The video of Mal¡¯tory and the container in question played in silence. The reactions to which were dominated by the likes of Thalmin who stared at me with grave concern, waiting for me to explain the significance of the footage. ¡°Inside this container they took from me, is a bomb. An explosive device that is capable of exploding without the use of mana. This device will detonate if either the predetermined time for its activation is reached, or if it detects any unauthorized tampering is done to it. It is designed to be a controlled explosion, through which the contents within shall be destroyed harmlessly. However, there is a chance, especially with tampering, that the containment may fail and someone may get hurt.¡± I explained succinctly. ¡°And because this artifice does not rely on mana for any of its abilities, the professors will be unable to stop it, or even realize its dangers.¡± Thalmin concluded in a similar vein to Thacea. I nodded as everyone was now brought up to speed. ¡°I know you wish to confront the professors regarding this debacle, Emma. And I fully support this venture as I cannot stand by and watch as these injustices are performed on a newrealmer of all people. Whilst I trust the veracity of these memory shards, I doubt the faculty or anyone else who does not accept your¡­ artificing, will.¡± The mercenary prince stated confidently. ¡°Why is that?¡± ¡°These memory shards are incomplete. It looks¡­ wrong, like artificial visions from a shard forger. All due to the fact that your artifices seems to have selectively disregarded the collection of mana-fields, auras, or even the surrounding mana. These shards will not stand up to scrutiny if we are to address this directly, Emma.¡± The Lupinor paused for a moment, as if deciding what to say next. ¡°However, no matter how faulty these shards are, I still believe you. The circumstances you find yourself in is truly beyond compare, and there is no reason to doubt the veracity of this memory shard, as you¡¯ve proven thus far to be an honorable soul. I will support you in this venture.¡± Thalmin began, as he stood up, prompting the rest of us to follow suit. ¡°As will I, Emma.¡± Thacea chimed in. ¡°Gods and Goddesses above, know that I have no choice in the matter. I must partake, lest I become an unwitting passenger on a boat with no oars of my own.¡± Ilunor surprisingly joined in, as we all stood together finally, as a cohesive unit.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, En Route to the Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 0900 Morning brought with it a great many things, chief among those is what a great number of night owls and late risers like me hated the most: the sun. However, I never truly appreciated just how sunlight could have an impact on a place like this. I didn¡¯t know if it was intentional, a tactic to keep students confined to their rooms at night, or whether or not it was actually an issue spurred on by the lack of readily available artificial sources of light. Whatever it was, the morning seemed to have given this whole place an entirely new coat of paint, and then some. The hallways which had started off as this drab, dreary, stuffy collection of gray stone and mortar had suddenly become much more inviting. It felt like color had been added to the world as I could see the meticulous detailing and craftsmanship on each of the individual stones that made up the walls of these hallways. The floors, similar to the night before, were still nothing short of a work of art as the gleam and polish could¡¯ve very well blinded me if I wasn¡¯t: A. Capable of tinting my lenses further to deal with the light and B. A light-mode preferring gremlin. As was the case with the previous night, the floors ¡®resonated¡¯ with these brilliant, lightning-like patterns whenever anyone that wasn¡¯t me walked across them. This lack of a footstep effect as I was starting to call it drew a few eyes to me, if the armor itself wasn¡¯t enough of an attention grabber as it was. Walking further and further still, we eventually found ourselves marching directly to our first destination of the day: The Grand Dining Hall. Chapter 15: A Complicated Breakfast I didn''t even know where to begin. When the gang first told me our first stop of the day was the Grand Dining Hall, I expected it to be more of the same. The same gaudiness, with the same dated displays of wealth, and the same desire to hit you in the face with so much crap that anyone who wasn¡¯t born with a silver spoon in their mouth would feel too intimidated to even enter. What I found when I arrived was exactly just that, and then some. The room not only managed to surpass my expectations, but also subverted it in ways I wasn¡¯t ever expecting. For starters, I felt like I¡¯d just entered a space that was an impossible cross between a Cathedral and one of those Hyperrevivalist buildings that had been popular after the 2nd Intrasolar war following the devastation it had wrought on old Earth cities, Lunar Hab-Spheres, and Martian Hab-Domes alike. Walking in through double doors wide enough to comfortably fit a small two-stage shuttle, I was greeted with a floor to ceiling window that went up a good 14 stories. The entire room felt like an expansive atrium with open-design planning in mind. Outcroppings of balconies from unknown and unreachable floors dangled overhead in a step-wise pattern; twisting and turning like a pile of books on display in an antique store. The single pane of 14-story tall glass at the end of the room was clear, and granted an unparalleled view of the world beyond the castle. Through it, I could see a literal waterfall emerging from what I can only assume was somewhere underneath the castle. The frothy mouth of the waterfall cascaded down a 200 foot sheer cliff into a river system that fed into a massive lake below. This meant that we were more than likely on some sort of large hill, or heck, maybe even a small mountain. Whilst I was immediately drawn to the window, I didn¡¯t walk to it right away, instead opting to use my enhanced optics to zoom in to the sights that lay beyond it. Almost all of the sights were dominated by these immaculate vistas of rolling green hills, punctuated by large swaths of dark green forests, interrupted occasionally by carefully tilled farms and pastures of grazing livestock. Most notable of all however, was this sprawling town just at the edge of the lake. The town was practically puny by Earth standards, but larger than the heritage town I grew up in, in Middle America. The tallest building was, unsurprisingly, a Church-like tower. Surrounding it were buildings that were topped mostly by tiled and wooden shingles, with not a single thatched hut in sight. It was difficult to gauge from here and at this angle, but if I were to hazard a guess I¡¯d say it could fit a good 10, maybe even 20 thousand people in it. Small boats and a few larger barges could be seen lazily floating on the lake, with a few meandering down some of the rivers that flowed from it downstream to destinations unknown. This was the fantasy world I¡¯d expected¡­ Yet this fantasy could only last for as long as I could maintain that gleeful ignorance of the world around me. Something that was difficult to really do when a certain nasally voice was directed towards you. ¡°Enthralled by the grandeur and splendor of the Nexus, Earthrealmer?¡± Ilunor piped up, practically shattering the immersion I had of this idyllic fantastical realm. I refused to respond, which I knew was a mistake as it prompted even more poking and prodding at, by the discount kobold. ¡°I admit, your mana-less tricks, your unconventional methodologies towards achieving results traditionally thought of as only capable via mana-manipulation, are indeed impressive. Yet impressiveness can only go so far.¡± The lizard began, warming up his mental gymnastics, which I more than expected to rival Mal¡¯tory¡¯s. ¡°I have thus far attempted to refrain myself from using terminology reserved for commoners, and verbal assaults reserved for those underneath our stations, but¡­ alas, I find myself at too short of a rope to truly care. Considering your commoner heritage, I expect you not to mind too much.¡± The lizard was clearly preparing for some sort of a verbal smack-down, the extent to its effectiveness remained to be seen. ¡°I believe you to be a trickster, Earthrealmer. Perhaps it is merely you, or perhaps it extends to your entire race. However, my observations from your reactions at a sight so trivial and banal to us Nexians speaks leagues as to your true nature. You claim to be from a land starved, famished, and utterly impoverished due to a lack of mana, and I believe you. I don¡¯t doubt it one bit now. To see a sight not only so lush and fruitful, but likewise, so developed and civilized must be something entirely alien to you.¡± I looked down at the lizard with a perplexed expression underneath my helmet. Ilunor simply continued smiling in that cocksure expression that I so desperately wanted to wipe off. ¡°I saw right through your memory-shard trickery, Earthrealmer. Don¡¯t play me for a fool. There¡¯s a reason why you chose that natural vista on that mana-less artifice as the primary means by which to bedazzle us.¡± The lizard waited for my response, baiting me on, which I had no choice but to take, given how I wanted the Vunerian to just get it all out of his system so we could move on. ¡°Okay, what¡¯s the reason?¡± I stared at him, groaning in annoyance. ¡°It¡¯s because there is nothing else in your world to show off, and, as with any trickery, the imagination can only stray so far away from what¡¯s available for inspiration. Thus, given that the only thing you were able to show was lakes, trees, and mountains¡­ I expect that the state of your world is probably even grimmer than that, if your attempt at a showstopper is indeed simply trees and greenery.¡± The lizard puffed up his chest. ¡°You¡¯ve probably never seen a town, or a collection of buildings beyond a few hole-ridden tents. I assume that a world without mana could only support a small, basic facsimile of a civilization. A small village of rickety huts, and maybe one or two tanned-hide tents? Perhaps a forge nestled and built into a cave with natural ventilation. With just barely enough competence to pool together enough resources for a single suit of armor, and a few mana-less toys by which to construct a good first impression for us Nexians.¡± Ilunor went on and on and on without once taking a breath to speak. It was as if he¡¯d swung hard on the pendulum of begrudging acceptance and complete self-delusion. If it wasn¡¯t for the fact that we were outside, in the open, and in front of other students¡­ I¡¯d punt the discount Kobold. The fucking lizard was really testing my patience far more than even the Call to Valor lobbies I¡¯d frequented as a teen. I was fucking furious. But I also got where he was coming from. If I was indoctrinated into a system that forced a single reality upon myself to a degree that didn¡¯t allow for any ability for freedom of thought, critical thinking, or even basic human empathy¡­ I bet I might¡¯ve turned out just like the lizard. The fact of the matter was, Ilunor was just flat-out in denial. His entire perception of self-image was inextricably tied with the world he was taught as infallible. To lose that reality, meant his own unquestionable noble right was at risk. And because he was taught he was hot shit, he couldn¡¯t really get out of that mindset without either slow, gradual, acclimatization, or breaking him entirely. And whilst I wanted the latter, I knew that the correct way forward was the former. Sometimes I hated being the good guy, and being bound to all of the operational parameters set forth by the IAS. ¡°EVI, make sure to remind me to bring out the holoprojector and to prep the Acela Corridor holo-runtimes sometime in the future.¡± I spoke inside my helmet, temporarily muting myself from the outside. ¡°Acknowledged, Emma Booker.¡± The EVI responded in its signature, blunt monotone. Movie-night and subsequent Earth cultural exchange nights will become a regular weekly fixture for the gang. I¡¯d make sure of it, but again, that would be an issue for future me to worry about after the bomb situation was sorted. ¡°Ilunor.¡± I sighed loudly through my vocoders, making sure to stand as tall and as intimidatingly as possible above the lizard as I spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t want to get into this right now. Not again, not right in the morning when we have a lot more crap to deal with. So let¡¯s just go get something to fucking eat.¡± This didn¡¯t seem to satisfy Ilunor as his tail stopped wagging almost as quickly as I¡¯d refused to participate in his delusions. My gaze soon shifted from the lizard, and back towards the Grand Dining Hall. The rest of the room reminded me of some of the high-end restaurants I had some exposure to. Most of my experiences with such high-end establishments were clustered around the tail-end of my time on Earth, as I was dragged along for breakfasts and lunches by the big shots at the IAS. Much of it was for unofficial off-site meetings. More often than not it was an unofficial way of discussing superficial aspects of the program with the LREF¡¯s own upper brass. Quite a few of the talks were above my paygrade, but what always caught my ear was how the two organizations wanted closer ties. Which didn¡¯t really make sense to me, given the LREF¡¯s area of responsibility was long range force projection in space and the IAS¡¯ was almost exclusively the whole portal situation. Regardless of the specifics behind their interdepartmental flirting, I think I knew the reason why they were treating me to fancy meals whenever they had the chance to. It was simply because they wanted to make up for the fact that I¡¯d be without proper food for an entire year, and this was more than likely their way of making up for the fact. Almost all of these breakfasts and lunches took place at the Waterfront, one of the few hotels strategically placed just outside of the UN Special Administrative Region where the IAS was based out of. Yet even then, the sight of contemporary luxury just couldn¡¯t compare to the ridiculous over-exaggerated wealth of the Nexus. It wasn¡¯t that it couldn¡¯t compete, it¡¯s just that the Nexus seemed to favor flashiness over class. Whilst the Waterfront was subdued and classy, the Nexus instead went all-in on the wealth display game. Everywhere I looked I could see something gold plated, and every time I heard the clinking of silverware, I was more than sure it was actual silver. Yet despite all of its over ostentatiousness, everything here looked like it belonged in some heritage home or museum, which just didn¡¯t vibe with my tastes for more modern, contemporary aesthetics. Surprisingly, there wasn¡¯t a buffet line or queue. Something that even the Waterfront had. Instead, students seemed to be clustered in groups of either 4 or 5, clearly indicative of the peer groups that had been assigned the previous night. In addition to this, everyone seemed to be taken to their seats by wait staff that were surprisingly not the raggedy, sickly looking smaller elven slaves I¡¯d seen from the previous night. Instead, there were a wide array of races that were clearly designated as wait staff by both their uniforms and mannerisms. From lizard-like species that eerily resembled Ilunor to the feline-like races that resembled the PE teacher from the previous night, to even elves. The whole scene looked and felt like a proper establishment and for a moment you could almost imagine that this was what the Academy was. A place of magical arts and fantastical societies, not a place of trans-dimensional political intrigue and slavery. We were eventually led to our table by one of these wait-staff, a male elf wearing a simple tunic and pants, both of which however were gold-lined and actually glittered like some odd attempt at mimicking the failed post-spacer fashion that never really caught on. Similarly to last night, our table was very much out of the way. Whether or not this was deliberate was something I¡¯d worry about later, for now, the name of the game was- Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°My table will have the entire platter.¡± Thalmin interrupted what was effectively my unbroken chain of internal monologuing that had been running ever since we arrived at the dining hall. ¡°Yes sire, but, would the sire wish to hear of this morning¡¯s selected offerings before-¡± The waiter attempted to speak, but was promptly cut off by overly eager Lupinor. ¡°I said, the entire platter. And make it four.¡± The Lupinor continued, only to stop when he laid his eyes on me. ¡°I mean, three.¡± He corrected himself. ¡°Actually, if it¡¯s possible I¡¯d like mine¡¯s, but like, to-go?¡± I asked, which seemed to raise more questions than not as the waiter cocked his head in response. ¡°Ah, if the fair knight would wish for her breakfast to be serviced to her residence, it shall be done.¡± The waiter bowed deeply. In fact, he took the time and effort to bow deeply at each of us, holding each bow for an uncomfortably long time before moving on to process our orders. Not a moment of silence was spared immediately following the elf¡¯s departure, before the ball got rolling once again. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 225% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°Thank you, Princess.¡± Thalmin began, probably hinting at the creation of the same acoustic dampening bubble that had saved us twice over now over the past 14 hours. ¡°Right, let¡¯s get right to it. Now, I don¡¯t want to intrude on how you carry yourself, Earthrealmer. Don¡¯t judge me the wrong way here, but I will be blunt. As your peers, the way each of us are seen, the way each of us perform in both academic and social functions, will have an effect on us as a group. We need to tackle the sword-drawn-assassin in the room: your manner of attire.¡± The mercenary prince all but threw his hands up at me. ¡°How do we approach this? It will certainly be a topic of much discussion, and an object of much speculation.¡± ¡°If we do not control the narrative first, then the narrative shall find its way into the hands of another, more than likely, malicious party.¡± Thacea interjected sharply, which prompted an approving nod by Thalmin. ¡°We need to frame it in a way that mitigates the risk of our group being singled out or completely cast-off from any and all academic and social opportunities.¡± Ilunor spoke, which surprised me given how he was actually contributing now. ¡°I do not care for what the Earthrealmer claims as the truth, so long as the narrative we construct is sufficient to facilitate our group¡¯s survival, and gods-willing, prosperity.¡± He added with a sharp hiss. ¡°Truth, or forgery. Those are our two options.¡± Thacea presented a-matter-of-factly. ¡°I bet the old adage of truth is stranger than fiction really does apply here huh?¡± I quickly added, which prompted a cock of the head from all three parties. ¡°I mean to say, I think constructing a whole story behind the armor would be way more believable wouldn¡¯t it? Since like, if we ask for everyone to accept the truth it¡¯d be asking a lot.¡± I attempted to explain. ¡°Precisely.¡± Thacea snapped back with a single nod. ¡°Lying is not an option.¡± Thalmin began with a growl. ¡°Forgery may be easier in the short term, but with all lies and deceit, time makes short work of them. In time, word will get out. If not by observation of the¡­ inconsistencies of Emma¡¯s existence, then more than likely the lie could be weaponized by the likes of the faculty. Forgery would be akin to plugging a hole in a ship with a coat of heavy tar, it will stay for a while, but the waves will eventually eat right through it, or the wood surrounding it.¡± Thacea seemed to take note of Thalmin¡¯s opinions as her eyes once more narrowed into that deep look of introspective analysis. ¡°The so-called truth will kill any reputability we have.¡± Ilunor spoke grimly. ¡°Need I remind you that the house-choosing ceremony is slated to begin at the end of the five day grace period?¡± ¡°The risk posed to our group should the truth be revealed after the results of the house choosing ceremony is far greater than being placed in a lesser house.¡± Thalmin argued, which was promptly cut off by the arrival of the three platters worth of food that was somehow being balanced all at once by the elven waiter. With two long silver dishes about two feet in length in both arms, and another floating in the air in front of him. The platters were masterfully placed down in front of us with a small flourish, the various dishes hidden under cloches not even once shaking as they found their way in front of the three lucky enough to be able to eat actual food. With another deep bow by the elf followed by a dismissive wave by Ilunor, the man strode off, which prompted another question to quickly manifest in my head. ¡°Was he using magic?¡± I inquired bluntly. ¡°Yes, what is it to you, Earthrealmer?¡± Ilunor answered in his signature, haughtier-than-thou mannerisms. ¡°I thought magic was exclusive to those in higher places and the elite-¡± ¡°He¡¯s a gifted commoner, Earthrealmer. Certain commoners have some magical abilities through sheer luck of the draw, or by some gift of some minor deity. Although most of it is relegated to¡­ well¡­ that.¡± ¡°That?¡± I parroted back. ¡°Casting Levitate on objects. Moving an item across a room at a distressingly slow pace. Maybe something else if they¡¯re lucky. Overall, just pathetic excuses for magic. However, by virtue of having some ability, they¡¯re instantly a slight cut above the rabble.¡± Ilunor explained offhandedly and with a slight shrug. ¡°That¡¯s why they¡¯re even allowed here without a chain around their neck or a wristband of transient passage.¡± Ilunor¡¯s explanations similar to last night¡¯s, weren¡¯t just fucked because of what it conveyed. No. It went beyond that. The fact that he described social stratification in a way that was so casual, so matter-of-fact, in the same way you¡¯d describe the ranks of UN civil service, or heck, the same way you¡¯d describe a fundamental principle grounded in science and reality was honestly unnerving. ¡°I have a suggestion, if I may, Emma.¡± Thacea finally spoke, once more attempting to veer the conversation back on track. ¡°Shoot.¡± ¡°We coordinate a means of addressing this particular matter with the faculty.¡± ¡°What?¡± I leaned back, incredulous. ¡°There is no guarantee of the manipulation of the truth or the narrative should we attempt to pursue this as a series of small battles. Convincing each individual student is to fight over a thousand battles over the course of months or years. Convincing the faculty to find a means of propagating or reinforcing the truth behind your armor, is fighting a single battle which shall silence any and all dissenters.¡± I paused as I considered that. For most of the night I¡¯d seen the faculty as the opposing force throughout all of this. To see Thacea willing to work with them was jarring, but, the logic was there. It just still didn¡¯t sit well with me. ¡°And you think the faculty will somehow walk back on millennia¡¯s worth of fundamental truths?!¡± Ilunor retorted incredulously. ¡°They will have to address this matter one way or another. Emma¡¯s mere existence here poses a significant threat to the reality the Nexus has imposed as infallible truths. Allowing her existence to go unaddressed will prove to be a constant source of embarrassment, and an unending loss of face and reputability. Regardless of what we decide to do, there will be talks within the upper echelons to establish a new narrative and a new set of truths to address Emma¡¯s existence. Whether or not we choose to be part of this discussion to have our voices heard, or whether we allow this to be dictated to us, is a choice we must make.¡± Thacea chirped back cleanly. The whole situation kept getting more convoluted, but considering today¡¯s whole aim was to bring up the issue of the crate to one of the faculty members anyways, it was worth a shot to start lobbying for this issue to be discussed as well. ¡°Alright.¡± I announced with a hefty sigh. ¡°I think we¡¯ll pursue that, yeah.¡± I replied simply, as the rest of the group seemed to have taken this momentary respite in discussions to begin opening up the cloches in front of them, revealing the delectable treats underneath. Once again, words couldn¡¯t describe the absolute envy that ran through my veins as I was met with the sight of foods ripped straight out of a home and life magazine. With sensory dissonance having once again planted itself in the forefront of my mind, I attempted to veer my concerns back to the pertinent issues at hand¡­ which were far easier said than done given the distracting nature of being able to see food but being unable to even smell it. ¡°Right, so, do the professors usually dine here, or how does that work?¡± I asked. ¡°Ah, they usually sit and dine at the professor¡¯s table.¡± Thacea explained, pointing towards an empty table perched atop of a portion of the room that was purposefully elevated above the rest. ¡°However, I do believe that my theory from the night prior is holding true. Their preoccupation with the book is more than likely preventing them from attending any of the day¡¯s events.¡± I nodded simply, but noticed a small figure at the far end of the table, shrouded in shadow. A figure which sat alone, wearing that same outfit from the previous night with the same baggy eyes that I swore got even worse from our last encounter. Indeed, as I zoomed in, I could tell exactly who it was, even without the EVI¡¯s facial recognition database. ¡°The professors may not be here, but she is.¡± I gestured to the table. ¡°Ah, yes, the apprentice from the previous night.¡± Thacea nodded once in reply. ¡°What exactly is her role here anyways? She¡¯s wearing something similar to your Academy robes, yet she¡¯s in cahoots with the professors?¡± ¡°She¡¯s an apprentice, something of a rare sight. Rarer still than the post-study peers who choose to continue down a specialized field after their five years are complete.¡± The avian attempted to explain in between small bites of crisp, buttery pastries. ¡°Apprentices are ostensibly on a fast-track to tenure, a path of scholarship that sacrifices all ties with the outside world, relinquishing court politics and noble titles, in favor of an assured position within the Academy.¡± I took pause at that, as I gripped my nutripaste pouch, priming it for insertion into the helmet¡¯s oral induction port. ¡°So like a more intense version of a Fellowship in certain fields back on Earth.¡± I spoke out loud, more so for myself than anything. ¡°I have never heard such a term being used before, but perhaps.¡± Thacea nodded. ¡°Generally speaking, positions of academic tenure within the faculty are difficult to attain. Ruling out the special exception of the Black-Robed position which is a political one, Blue, Red, and White robes are all positions that come at a crossroads between personal merit, and court or scholarly ties.¡± I quickly interjected at that latter point. ¡°By ties you mean nepotism or corruption.¡± Thacea seemed almost taken aback at that. Ilunor meanwhile just scoffed out loud. Thalmin meanwhile gave a slight nod of approval at my observation. ¡°It is just how things work in the Academy and the Nexus, Emma. Academy positions require a prerequisite of skill and merit, along with scholarly acumen. There is however, also a system that must be finessed in order to attain such positions. You must understand that such roles in the Academy are held primarily by the nobility. To pursue Academics does not mean you are granted immunity from the political world associated with the responsibilities of your noble title. Which is why the Apprenticeship programs are so rarely pursued. For whilst it guarantees an Academic tenure, it means the relinquishment of all ties that constitute your worldly possessions. You effectively eschew all titles and connections to the real world, in the pursuit of a life of scholarship.¡± There was a careful pause of consideration, as if Thacea was poised and ready to explain something further, but decided against it. ¡°Right, okay, I guess that makes sense in the context of your society.¡± I nodded once, still holding on to the nutripaste packet an inch from my OIP. ¡°So what was she doing delivering luggage at night? Was it probably a Mal¡¯tory special request thing or-¡± ¡°Apprentices also perform a role that is otherwise difficult to perform by any other position within the Academy.¡± Thacea interjected before I could finish, as if she knew where I was going with this. ¡°They act as the enforcers of the Academy¡¯s rules and regulations, but likewise, as an intermediary between student disputes. They tend to each dormitory tower, and otherwise act in an administrative capacity for student lodgings.¡± So they¡¯re RAs. A cross between a post-grad student and an RA. I thought to myself. ¡°I think she might be our key to the professors then.¡± I announced, as I stood up with the intent to approach the apprentice, only to have the entire room¡¯s gaze suddenly come down on me all at once. ¡°Emma.¡± Thalmin growled tersely, gripping my wrist in an attempt to pull me back down. ¡°Sit back down, now.¡± I slowly sat back down, which likewise broke the collective staring. ¡°What the hell was that all about?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t get to excuse yourself, the professors do. And in the case the professors aren¡¯t here, the next person in line will. In this case, it¡¯s her.¡± Thalmin gestured back to the long table with the lone apprentice. Who, to her credit, seemed to not pay much mind to my antics. I looked to the timer on the upper right of my HUD, with it now approaching the 10th hour of the ticking time bomb, leaving us with just 62 hours on the clock. ¡°Well let¡¯s hope she lets us off soon, for all of our sakes.¡± ALERT: GENERALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 900% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Everyone in the room seemed to jolt just as the warning came through. Looking around, I could see Thacea¡¯s feathers standing up on end, only to lower back down moments after. The alert only lasted for a few seconds. However, it seemed to have been the key to expediting my goals as the apprentice promptly stood up, poised for an announcement. Chapter 16: I Spy With My Little Eye I¡¯d expected panic to envelope the room. A generalized surge of mana-radiation wasn¡¯t something to be trifled with, no. In fact, it spelled danger in every sense of the word. The training I received on the mana-radiation sensory analytics and detection system (M-RSADS), had placed great emphasis on delineating between each specific category of warning. Indeed, whilst the scientists and engineers back at home had a penchant for overcomplicating things, this particular system was completely off-limits to their shenanigans. It was a classic case of the end-user finally getting their way, and one of the many times the military elements within the IAS had sunk their heels in to make sure the overly eager scientists didn¡¯t get too lost in their own sauce. Intuitiveness and practicality was the name of the game here, because this whole system was a matter of life and death. Not a matter of desk-bound data analytics. This was how the broad-strokes, two-category system of mana radiation detection was born. If the scientists had their way, there would be literally hundreds more, but thankfully I only had two to worry about. The reason behind why the two-category system was chosen, was rather expectedly, a matter of practicality. Simply put, it allowed me to rapidly assess and evaluate the threat posed by mana-radiation, and how best to respond accordingly. Localized surges were bursts of mana-radiation with a specific point of origin that the suit¡¯s sensors could definitively locate. There was a discrete radius of effect, and a clear-cut path towards either dealing with the source of the radiation or simply booking it out of there as fast as the suit¡¯s powered exoskeleton and jump-packs could manage. Generalized surges however, were an entirely different beast. As the name would suggest, all a generalized surge was, was a surge in mana-radiation without a specific point of origin. There was no clear radius of effect as the entire extent of the suit¡¯s sensors would be bathed in a consistent, uninterrupted increase in background mana-radiation with no discernible point where the radiation drops off. Understandably, this was the worst possible scenario to be in, because neither fight nor flight protocols could be undertaken. For there was no clear area to flee to, and no particular point of origin to neutralize. I was thus, beyond relieved that this surge of mana radiation lasted for but a whopping grand total of two and a half seconds. ¡°There is no need to be alarmed.¡± The shrill voice of the apprentice echoed throughout the massive expanse of the room. ¡°The ebbs and flows of the Academy¡¯s mana-streams are stronger than what you might be accustomed to back in your home realms. Such occurrences are normal and to be expected, as but part of the Academy¡¯s unwavering adherence to the unending odyssey that is the scholarly pursuit of the magical arts. Take this as the first unofficial lesson, pay no mind and carry on.¡± The apprentice soon stood up, gathering her belongings and adjusting her cloak. ¡°You are to be dismissed, but do recall the rules and make certain to observe the etiquette of the Academy¡¯s grace period. Remain within the common areas, stay exclusively within the designated spaces, and take this time as a necessary respite prior to the commencement of your studies.¡± Without much in the way of fanfare, the elf soon quickly made a b-line for one of the side exits. The harsh clacking of her reasonably practical boots reverberated with each hurried step she took, her path on a direct course to pass by our table. With all pretenses of social decorum and court etiquette thrown completely out the window, I stood up, and effectively blocked the elf¡¯s path with the sheer presence of my armor. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve been properly acquainted.¡± I announced, attempting to make up for the lack of social etiquette like a band-aid on a gaping wound. ¡°There¡¯s something urgent that requires the attention of the faculty, and I assume you¡¯re the right person to relay my concerns to them.¡± I tried my very best to hold back on going all-in on the accusations and the obvious finger pointing. If this was someone with solid connections to the top, yet was grounded enough to have eschewed whatever noble titles that came with it, there was a chance I¡¯d misjudged her from the previous night. There was a chance I could at least have some sort of a working relationship with her. ¡°Emma of Earthrealm, this isn¡¯t the time or place for such pleasantries, there are urgent matters I must attend to-¡± ¡°Like that surge in mana.¡± I interjected. ¡°I am not at liberty, nor do I have the time to entertain any of your newrealmer concerns. At least not at this instance. Now please, I have urgent matters concerning Academy affairs I must attend post-haste.¡± She attempted to skirt past me, and was just about to if it wasn¡¯t for Thacea¡¯s entry into the conversation. ¡°Honorable Apprentice, the newrealmer wishes to invoke a point of personal privilege.¡± Thacea spoke without even attempting to stand up, not even so much as turning to face the apprentice in question. Instead, she remained sat at the table, her eyes trained forward towards her half eaten breakfast in calm contemplation. ¡°You must excuse her brashness, esteemed peer. It is, after all, unreasonable to expect a newrealmer to properly invoke or even recognize the proper calls to decorum. So, if you would please, I would most certainly prefer her calls to privilege be respected by an official entity of the Academy.¡± The last sentence came off as something halfway between a suggestion, an order, and a request. It was that careful balance of suggestive authority that was difficult to really nail, but given Thacea¡¯s royal heritage I could only assume it was practically second nature to her now. The apprentice all but halted in her tracks at that, her eyes seemed to shift from an expression of urgency and annoyance to one of apprehension and genuine unease. Her tone of voice changed drastically as she addressed me again. This time, that dismissive and frankly patronizing tone had all but vanished, now replaced by a more reasonable, level-toned cadence with an undertone of frustration. ¡°Of course, princess. Emma Booker of Earthrealm, my affairs should be concluded within the early hours of the afternoon. Should you wish to pursue your point of personal privilege, I shall be in the castle¡¯s main garden. Ask Groundskeeper Alaton for my exact whereabouts, I shouldn¡¯t be more than a hundred paces from the castle at any given time.¡± The elf adjusted her cloak once more, followed by a nervous cough. ¡°Now, I must take my leave.¡± She spoke as she bid our entire table a half-nod before exiting the room. In those precious few seconds before she reached for the door, I made a call that could only be described as impulsive, and driven purely by my gut instinct. Tapping a few physical hotkeys on my wrist-mounted data-pad, with target reticules trained on the apprentice highlighting her entire form in a glowing orange, I released one of the many toys I had at my disposal. ¡°INFIL-DRONE01 ACTIVE, STATUS: NOMINAL. OBJECTIVE: PRIORITY TRACKING AND RECONNAISSANCE OF SUBJECT_01. MISSION PARAMETERS: PENDING¡­¡± ¡°Track, observe, and return-to-base. Take no chances. Set minimum acceptable risk of compromise to the lowest default settings.¡± I spoke rapidly, relaying the drone¡¯s mission parameters. The dragonfly-like drone barely the size of the tip of my finger zipped right out of its docking bay from one of my suit¡¯s many compartments and trailed behind the apprentice, exiting through the tiny space left in the door just before it swung shut. With a long exhale having committed to a mission based solely off of my gut instinct, I sat back down at the table, and began the process of connecting the nutripaste tube to my OIP. ¡°Emma.¡± Thacea spoke up, her voice colored by an undertone of audible frustration. ¡°Yes, Thacea?¡± ¡°How much time do we have left?¡± I immediately knew what she was talking about as I quickly glanced at the countdown timer on my HUD. ¡°61 hours, 54 minutes, and 37 seconds.¡± The princess seemed to take this into careful consideration, glancing over at a golden orb connected via a chain to her cloak jacket. The object glowed with a dull yellow hue, blinking with each second that passed. ¡°After you finish your breakfast, let us make haste with our plans for the afternoon, and make the most out of the rest of this morning.¡± I was just about to nod, and to move towards agreeing with Thacea if it wasn¡¯t for Ilunor suddenly perking up and addressing all of us first. ¡°The rest of this morning? I¡¯m afraid I have more pressing matters to attend to.¡± The Vunerian jumped off of his seat and onto the marble floors with a loud clack. ¡°What affairs could you possibly have?¡± Thalmin growled out in a fit of annoyance. ¡°Personal affairs. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I¡¯ll be in the dorms if and when my business is concluded.¡± Ilunor explained without a hint of hesitation as he began walking off, eventually blending in with the slow trickle of students leaving out through the main door. ¡°Laziness.¡± Thalmin huffed in between bites of smoked meats and pastries. ¡°Laziness to the rotten thing¡¯s core.¡± He continued in between large and unrestrained mouthfuls of carefully presented cold-cuts. ¡°That¡¯s all this is about. Trust me, he¡¯ll be walking to the dorms for a post-breakfast nap before waking up for lunch and repeating the cycle for dinner.¡± With that bizarre turn of events out of the way, I now turned towards Thacea. ¡°Right, so, next order of business, I think we should find a productive way to kill time between now and the afternoon¡¯s meeting. I say we take the initiative, and track down the crate ourselves for now. It¡¯s a longshot, but I''m thinking of roaming the halls with my scanner on full blast just in case we run into it in a hallway or something.¡± ¡°Considering that there is no other course of action for us to take at the present, I am inclined to agree.¡± Thacea nodded in approval. ¡°Erm, quick question, can you deploy the whole noise cancellation suppression field thing while on the move as well?¡± I quickly asked. ¡°Yes. It requires a more advanced version of the spell but it¡¯s within my capabilities. Why do you ask?¡± Thacea inquired with a cock of her head. ¡°There¡¯s erm, something you need to know that I think you should hear after breakfast. We can talk about it while we¡¯re on the move.¡± I spoke as I finally committed to the gut churning process of introducing the tube of paste to my OIP, the airlocks and pneumatics whirring away as that familiar taste of shredded beef in barbecue sauce in a chunky toothpaste consistency filled my mouth.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, First Floor Grand Concourse, Secondary Corridor. Local Time: 1000 Hours. ¡°You what?!¡± Thacea yelled, or rather, squawked out incredulously. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°I, well, I decided on deploying a drone to keep tabs on the apprentice. I don¡¯t trust the whole: ¡®this burst of mana radiation is just a common occurrence¡¯ thing, it just doesn¡¯t sit right with me. It¡¯s all too convenient. A huge burst like that followed with her getting up and leaving? There has to be something to it, and I have a massive hunch it has something to do with my crate.¡± I explained emphatically. ¡°Emma¡­ the risks involved with that decision are far beyond what I would be comfortable entertaining as a mere thought experiment, let alone an actual spur-of-the-moment decision.¡± The avian explained, clearly holding back her desires to verbally dress me down. ¡°The Nexus, and by extension the Academy, are masters at espionage and subterfuge. To try to challenge them at a game they are adept in is a foolish, and frankly, senseless undertaking.¡± The princess¡¯ plumage puffed up and down, ruffling between each cycle. There was little doubt that this was something way outside her comfort zone, as we tread deeper into uncharted territory. I allowed Thacea to just breathe for a few moments after that panicked response before I finally responded. ¡°You¡¯re completely right, Thacea.¡± I nodded deeply. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt the veracity of any one of your claims for a second.¡± I continued, speaking with an unfiltered sincerity that was causing the avian to raise what I assumed was her equivalent of an eyebrow. ¡°The Nexus must be good at what they do if they¡¯ve lasted for what, tens of thousands of years? I can¡¯t compete with that. Heck, I know for a fact I have no chance at beating them at their own game. It¡¯s impossible for me to wage war against something so much larger, so much wiser, so much more refined in their skill sets and methods.¡± ¡°But here¡¯s the thing.¡± I soon shifted gears, as confidence and cockiness began to fill the cracks left behind by that agreeable sincerity. ¡°I don¡¯t need to. Because I¡¯m not waging the same war they¡¯re waging, nor am I playing the same games they¡¯re playing. I¡¯m setting up for a whole other game here, Thacea. One with a completely different set of rules, and one with a completely different set of criteria for victory. It¡¯s a game the Nexus has never once touched, but that my people have had thousands of years to fine-tune and perfect.¡± I took a deep breath before continuing. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt for a fact that I can¡¯t compete at the Nexus by their rules, but the same can be said for the Nexus¡¯ ability to play by my rules. So whilst I do agree, my decision to send that drone out was brash, it was a calculated move on my part that I felt was an acceptable risk given the context involved.¡± It was with that, that I let out a large sigh, awaiting Thacea¡¯s response. A response which never came as a warning lit up inside of my suit¡¯s helmet. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS PRIORITY ALERT: WARNING INCOMING PROJECTILE My training kicked in, around the same time my suit decided that it needed to intervene on my behalf as the improvised projectile was brought up on-screen, and I felt my head and neck forcibly shunted to the right by the augmented rapid-reaction measures courtesy of the suit¡¯s exoskeleton. I narrowly evaded the unknown object in a blink of an eye. But it wasn¡¯t over yet. PRIORITY ALERT: PROJECTILE (NO DATABASE REGISTRY¡­ N/A: DESIG_UAO1) ON INTERCEPT TRAJECTORY. PERMISSION TO ENGAGE? Y/N? The damn thing took another swoop at me, yet this time aimed for my legs instead, as it carried out an incessant series of pass-bys. I refused to use the gauntlet canons to deal with this, so on one of its last approaches, I reached up a single arm and swiped it right out of the sky. My hands clenched the damn thing tightly, crumpling it up into a compressed ball. It was then that my mind finally registered what it actually was. The texture it conveyed through my glove¡¯s haptic feedback systems was unmistakable. It was paper. The damn thing was a paper bird animated by mana This was a grade-school level attempt at messing with me. It didn¡¯t take long for the perpetrators behind this whole childish escapade to make themselves known, as a series of condescending claps echoed from around the corner, followed by the appearance of a group of 4 students each dressed to their nines in their noble attire. Two of the four I immediately recognized from the previous night. The gorn-like reptilian Lord Qiv who volunteered to be first on the chopping block, and the unfortunate bear-like biped, Uven Kroven who was chosen soon after. Qiv was very much still dressed in a manner akin to the previous night, with that cape covering much of the silken tunic and the dispelling amulet underneath. Uven, meanwhile, had donned a simpler set of clothes. A deep brown leather cloak that covered a more vibrant wave-like pattern tunic and pants underneath, with what seemed to be a broach resembling a set of three paws on the right side of the cloak¡¯s high-collar. ¡°Well, well, well¡­ it seems as if our great knight lives up to her reputation after all.¡± Qiv spoke in a manner that was drenched with a level of haughty superiority that not even Ilunor could match. ¡°I must say, with that hand-eye coordination and those rapid-reflexes, indeed¡­ with how naturally she leaped for the Podgy-Pa, one must assume she comes from a realm of primates!¡± One of the other students within the group spoke, this one looked eerily bat-like, with heavy drape-like webbing underneath her arms. ¡°Oh, be reasonable Airit, we cannot yet assume what species she must be, only that the results of this experiment heavily infers her commoner heritage. To be able to reach up to grab prey in such a manner is a skill that only those who subsist day by day must master. This is confirmation as to her commoner status if anything.¡± The last in the group quickly added. This one was small, smaller than even Ilunor, standing at a whopping 3 feet tall, and from the looks of it resembled a well-kept humanoid rat, or perhaps a hamster. ¡°What do you say, Uven?¡± The hamster turned to the Ursina, who seemed to be zoned out of his mind as he merely shrugged in response, his eyes were clearly open but they betrayed the fact that no one was home. ¡°It¡¯s just mana-sickness, don¡¯t worry about him.¡± The bat-like Airit reasoned, as all eyes were once more focused on me. ¡°I say this experiment might even be quite telling as to the state of her realm. The armor is a showpiece, and her abilities to reach for prey, betrays just how destitute and lacking her realm must truly be. If the chosen one of a new realm is accustomed to such lesser skills, just imagine what the rest of it must be like!¡± The bat and hamster pair giggled amongst themselves, whilst the reptilian Qiv maintained a careful, calculating gaze on me and the princess behind me. To say that I was at a loss for words would be an understatement. To be honest I was expecting something akin to this eventually happening if I were to take anything from Ilunor¡¯s entire schtick. But to have an entire gang coming down on me with the intensity and competitiveness of a gold medal finalist in the field of mental gymnastics was something I just wasn¡¯t ready for. ¡°You guys aren¡¯t even going to try a Hello, maybe even a Hi, welcome to the neighborhood?¡± I managed out with an exasperated sigh. ¡°Oh, we reserve that for our fellow lords and ladies, it¡¯s customary for commoners to greet their betters, not the other way around.¡± The bat spoke with a heavy series of twitters. ¡°But I do not hold it against you, newrealmer. If you have yet to have developed a civilization capable enough of understanding the principles of the perpetual regime, then how can I cast judgment? Why, I would be no better than a common fool yelling at a stray mutt for its lack of obedience training. Ignorance can only be tempered by knowledge and education, and I along with the rest of my peers, are more than willing to be the avatars of an enlightened nobility.¡± I took a series of careful, controlled, breaths. In, and out. In, and out. My anger and frustration wouldn¡¯t overtake me, and it wouldn¡¯t ruin my mission on day two. I weighed my options carefully, my mind running through every possible scenario as I decided on a diplomatic way out of this quagmire, only to have yet another alarm beep at me. This time, it was something much more important. ¡°Alert. Priority Notice: INFIL-DRONE01 signal detected. Status: returning to designated point-of-origin. Reason for premature mission abortion: calculated risk of compromised status beyond maximum acceptable threshold.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s double-time it back to the dorms.¡± I turned to both Thacea and Thalmin without any hesitation. With a nod of affirmation between the three of us, we took off back to the dorms in a hurried sprint, leaving the crowd of enlightened nobles in the dust. ¡°Hmmph, so not only are we dealing with a lowly commoner, but a coward as well. At least she knows not to challenge her natural betters.¡± Was all I heard before the audio-sensors cut off as we turned the corner.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Front Door. Local Time: 1020 Hours. If true AI wasn¡¯t a taboo, and if the drone could actually think, I could imagine it¡¯d be screaming down the halls with how eager it was to show me everything it¡¯d discovered. Upon arrival at the dorms we were met with the dragonfly like drone actively crawling underneath the door frame. It wasn¡¯t long however as I arrived that it backtracked and flew right towards me, on a flight-path that would¡¯ve made a younger version of me scream in disgust, but that elicited nothing from me now other than a quick flinch from my buried yet still latent entomophobia. Much to the horror of my peers, the drone quickly crawled and shimmied its way into one of my many utility pouches. After which, it made a wired connection with the suit proper. The data-transfer that occurred concurrently with the recharge of the drone was near-instantaneous. Wired connections were, even after all these years, the preferable, quickest, and most reliable means of information transfer after all. ¡°Emma. Let¡¯s get inside before we add whisperer of arachnids into your list of titles.¡± Thalmin urged as he opened the door and led all of us inside. Upon entry into the room, I immediately made a b-line for the couch, promptly downloaded all of the files onto my data-tab, and had Thacea blot out the world using her whole noise privacy shield spell thing. It didn¡¯t take long before the relevant files were played, the video fast-forwarding until it slowed down to normal speed just as the apprentice arrived on scene into what I could only describe was a room, or what was left of it. The scene that I was faced with was nothing short of a disaster. The room, if it could still be called that, was a mess of pockmarked holes and molten rock. The lights within flickered every few seconds in a manner almost eerily reminiscent of the fluorescent lights of old. What should have been the Academy¡¯s signature gaudy tables, chairs, and various other appointed articles of limited practical use were either smashed, cleaved cleanly, or in some way mutilated beyond their original state. Yet despite the whole room looking as if it¡¯d just gone through an active warzone, akin to a scene straight out of the war-docs from New Terra, no one seemed to really mind. Indeed, the devastation wrought upon it was almost immediately reverted as soon as the drone¡¯s cameras laid eyes on it. Those pockmarked holes oozing with magma and molten rock? They all but hardened and solidified over the course of a few short seconds. The flickering lights from the unseen light-emmitting-crystals? They¡¯d stabilized moments after that. The furnishings that had been wrecked seemingly beyond repair? Well, those seemed to have just¡­ pulled themselves together. Literally. From the tables crushed beyond recognition to the chairs whose upholstery had all but been strewn across the floors, whatever scrap, shard, or splinter belonged to the item in question had simply been pulled back to whatever the largest piece of it remained, before it just put itself back together. The camera quickly panned over to scan several of the figures present within the far edge of the room. Several faces were isolated and successfully cross-referenced using the tablet¡¯s database. Mal¡¯tory, Vanavan, the red robed and white robed professors, and strangely enough, a bear-like figure with a face obscured by shadow, dressed in a heavy leather cloak with a distinct broach resembling three-paws affixed to its high collar. Eventually, as the dust finally settled, and the incoherent chatter of voices within the room droned out into discernible, distinct voices that the drone could effectively isolate, so too did another familiar object make itself known once more. As in the middle of the entire room, having previously been obscured by the dust, debris, and steam hissing from the molten lava-pit of a floor, was a plinth. And upon that plinth, was the book from the binding ritual, currently open to a page with the names of all of the students from the night prior. A strange implement was attached firmly to the book. It looked like someone had taken a bear-trap and clamped it onto either side of it, then attached one of those two-axis gantries, and bracketed it horizontally to one side of the page. Further, it looked like a magnifying glass affixed to it highlighting small patches of text within the book. Zooming in closer towards the strange device, a name could just about be made out, as the camera held still and stabilized on that half-hearted attempt at cursive. Emma Booker. Chapter 17: Theres Only One Place Where We Can Find Answers ¡°It should come as no surprise to any within this room that this ritual was doomed from the beginning.¡± A thunderous voice boomed, one that was promptly isolated and traced by the drone to that of a familiar white-robed dean. Everything about the elf, from the way he stood to his tone of voice, was saturated with an air of terse authority which was now reinforced with a dismissive and snide passive aggressiveness. ¡°I would tread the subject matter which you broach very carefully, Professor Astur.¡± The unmistakable monotone of the black-robed Mal¡¯tory responded in kind. ¡°Self-fulfilling prophecies are unbecoming of figures of authority such as yourself. You of all people should know, that should failure arise from this ritual, and should the proper channels be informed, that any and all verbiage that can be construed as seditious will be investigated.¡± The man stepped forward, walking around the devastated landscape that was quickly being reassembled back into its original, undamaged state. ¡°A standard ritual of duplicity, performed by planar-class mages, all graduates of the Academy no less; failing in a manner that hasn¡¯t been seen since the summonings of dawn? Why, if I were to place myself in the shoes of his majesty¡¯s investigator-general, I would place the blame not on faulty mana-pools, or a peculiarity in extraneous circumstances, but on purposeful undermining of Academy ritual-protocols.¡± ¡°Just be a man and be out with it, Professor.¡± An annoyed, elderly female voice entered the fray. The red-robed professor all but pushed herself in front of a frayed and frazzled blue-robed Vanavan who had yet to have cast his hat into the ring. ¡°If you¡¯re going to be throwing around accusations then be blunt with what is being accused. Will it be sabotage? Or will it be sedition against the crown? Perhaps today we shall sprinkle in a dash of obstruction of protocol and decorum into the mix? Don¡¯t beat around the bush, you quill-pushing, lazy, ignorant, taint-ridden, mouthpiece!¡± Instead of the expected return of vitriol, Mal¡¯tory simply stood firm, cold, and calm, his face betraying only the slightest hints of annoyance to the vitriolic finger-pointing. ¡°I will respond out of respect for your years of service, Professor, and indeed, out of the fact that I am still to this day your pupil.¡± That cold calm collectedness however vanished for a split second, if only to reinforce the power dynamics in the room. ¡°With your advanced age, I believe it wouldn¡¯t be my place to remind you not to conflate my respect for your person, with my respect for your station. So please. Do help me retain that respect for your person, by ensuring that I do not lose my respect for your station, Professor Belnor.¡± A brief standoff was had between the two professors, which was promptly broken by the frayed Vanavan who was still reeking of nervousness and anxiety. His facial expressions all but locked in a permanent haze of indecision. ¡°Professors, please. Let us place the failures of the ritual behind us and focus on what truly is at stake. The safety of those within the castle grounds. What we really must worry about now is how best to deal with this¡­ this runaway null.¡± Vanavan interjected, as he attempted to veer the conversation away from the heated personal attacks and back towards whatever the whole situation was about in the first place. ¡°Aye, it will be difficult.¡± The red-robed professor responded with an exasperated sigh, turning towards Vanavan and purposefully allowing Mal¡¯tory¡¯s ultimatum to bounce right off of her. ¡°The null¡¯s lacking in a mana-field, similar to the girl. The soulpath map will be useless, and we can¡¯t have the gargoyles roaming the halls lest we raise further suspicion and incite panic. This is not even putting into consideration the fact that doing so will be a violation of the unspoken truce under the precedence set by the grace period. A precedent which I believe none of us here wishes to change, not when we are now staring down the face of not one, but two unknowns.¡± ¡°The girl is not our primary concern, not right now at the very least.¡± The dean proclaimed, as his eyes shifted towards that of the plinth, and the bear-like figure, still completely still and lifeless in the corner of the room. ¡°Our primary concern should be the recapture of this null, and its immediate destruction before the situation unravels even further than it already has.¡± A collective murmur of agreement echoed throughout the room at that. ¡°Mal¡¯tory.¡± The Dean continued. ¡°Since it was your department¡¯s decree that the ritual of duplicity be enacted, it falls on your head to clean up your untended mess.¡± Another stare-off quickly ensued between Mal¡¯tory and the dean, but this time, it was clear whose argument had won out as Mal¡¯tory gave the shortest of bows in acquiescence; only to land that sharp gaze on a figure that stood just in front of the drone¡¯s field of view. ¡°I think our apprentice has certainly seen her fair share of how Academy interdepartmental relations are handled.¡± Mal¡¯tory announced in that signature monotone, this time with a clear undertone of sarcastic intent. The Dean quickly interjected as he turned his attention to the apprentice in question, his voice shifting from one of absolute authority to one of a more fatherly, patronizing tone. ¡°Step forward, Larial, you have not barged into a conversation you were not privy to. You will, after all, be standing where I stand in due course. It is necessary for you to see it all, every angle of the Academy, from its greatest successes to crises such as this. Indeed, it is not enough to merely be an observer, but to actively partake in such critical junctions.¡± ¡°The Apprentice does need to complete her prerequisite experience criterion in Crisis Mitigation, this would be a perfect time for her to gain some real world experience.¡± Mal¡¯tory offered. ¡°With a null?! Absolutely not!¡± The red robed professor quickly shot back, taking a few steps closer towards Mal¡¯tory as she seethed. ¡°How long should we shelter our own before they one day take our places? Would you wish for an individual with no experience in the handling of critical crises to stand by your side as you face off with another Unbidden? Or perhaps a mass-null crisis? Or a collapse of the book of souls? Could you see yourself on that day, amidst a crowd of inexperienced newbloods, and feel confident in your chances of survival, let alone successes?¡± Mal¡¯tory shot back with little in the way of emotion, speaking as if he was pulling the situation from the pages of a history book rather than straight out of his own ass. It was at this point that Vanavan found it in him to step up to the plate once more. ¡°Professor, please, the Academy isn¡¯t an institution preparing for war-¡± Only to be shot down by Mal¡¯tory before he could even make his point. ¡°But it is an institution that must be ready for crises. The null situation we face is barely considered a crisis in the grander scheme of things. If you aren¡¯t ready to allow your apprentices to face such a threat, then I fear for the threats that we will inevitably face in the coming years.¡± Mal¡¯tory interjected, but this time, there was something distinctly different about his tone of voice. It was one of the few, if not the first instance where he was actually being genuine. There was a look in his eyes that didn¡¯t quite match that same glassy, aloof attitude he always seemed to have. There was something there that he wasn¡¯t telling the rest of the faculty. This fact was not lost on the dean who had maintained careful eye contact with the black-robed professor, only to cut it off, as if signaling that the topic wasn¡¯t worth pursuing. At least not right now. Belnor, however, was clearly adamant on pushing forward her warnings. ¡°Professor Astur, please. You know for a fact what a null is capable of, and you understand it will stop at nothing to accomplish its twisted aims.¡± She pleaded with the dean, who remained completely silent on the matter. ¡°Professor, please¡­ it will stop at nothing to achieve what we failed to create.¡± These pleas fell on deaf ears however as the dean simply gave a nod of approval to Mal¡¯tory, who relayed his orders to the apprentice without hesitation. ¡°Apprentice.¡± The man spoke, eliciting an immediate response in the form of the elf taking a knee in a display of respect. ¡°What will you have me do, Professor?¡± Larial spoke with her head bowed low. ¡°You are tasked with tracking down the whereabouts of Emma Booker¡¯s null. You will be given limited authority over the gargoyles of the halls and their sight for the duration of this assignment. In addition, should you believe yourself to be capable, you are to attempt to use all force necessary to neutralize the threat posed by the null. Doing so will grant you a Privy Seal commendation on this semester¡¯s final report.¡± Mal¡¯tory laid out each and every word with his signature inflection of authority. One that was in equal measures dismissive, yet overbearing. Belnor had opened her mouth in protest once again, getting so far as to let the first few huffs of indignant breaths out, only to be held back by Vanavan as he gripped her shoulder tight. ¡°I accept this assignment humbly, Professor.¡± The apprentice responded, not once lifting her head up to face the man. ¡°Then so be it. I expect an in-person update this evening. Do not disappoint us.¡± Mal¡¯tory concluded, waving the apprentice away as the group of professors now moved towards the bear in the far corner of the room. The footage cut off there, with the drone making a beeline for the door following the apprentice¡¯s leave. With that entire exchange having concluded, I leaned back deeper into the plush couch with a heavy thud, feeling the rough frame of my exoskeleton biting into my joints as I hissed out expletives at the suit¡¯s haptic feedback for not giving me relief when I most needed it. ¡°There¡¯s¡­ a lot to be unpacked here.¡± I managed out with an exasperated sigh. ¡°First off, anyone here know what a ritual of duplicity or a null is?¡± I turned to both Thacea and Thalmin, both of whom responded with varying degrees of the same response: no. ¡°Alright¡­¡± I took another breath, winding back the footage to confirm a suspicion that had been gnawing at me throughout its entire runtime. ¡°That.¡± I pointed, freezing the image on the bear-like figure with half of its face obscured by a hood, or some sort of cloth. ¡°That broach.¡± I highlighted, then juxtaposed the drone¡¯s footage to that of the recording of our earlier interactions with the gaggle of nobles, zooming in to Uven in particular. ¡°And these anthropometric parameters.¡± The footage was interlaced with a grid layout, as the precise measurements of both Uven and the mystery bear in the labs were analyzed, revealing a precise match with the only exception being the mystery bear¡¯s obscured face. ¡°Heavily imply that we¡¯re dealing with Uven having been in two places at once.¡± I stated in no uncertain terms. ¡°Does Uven have some sort of a twin brother or another member of his family currently serving at the Academy?¡± I asked plainly. A brief few moments of silence punctuated this line of questioning, one that I expected a resounding ¡®we don¡¯t know¡¯ from either of the two. Thacea, however, clearly had the right idea as she brought out the orientation letter from the previous night, the one that listed out the professors and faculty present within the academy. I had no idea how vital this piece of intel would be until now, as we both scanned the document line by line, as well as the animated portraits on the parchments, but it was easy to strike out the idea of Uven¡¯s relatives being in the faculty almost immediately. As there were no bears in any of the portraits present. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°So. I guess we¡¯re left with a pretty big question here.¡± I rewound the footage, pointing at the timestamps on both the drone¡¯s and my helmetcam¡¯s footage. ¡°Look, the two were recorded barely 10 seconds apart. How the hell was he in two places at once?¡± I voiced out with distress as any semblance of Earth logic was clearly of no use here. ¡°A class of illusionary spell which replicates an image of the person in another location? A costuming spell that allows for one to temporarily assume the superficial likeness of another?¡± Thacea offered, none of which made any sense given there didn¡¯t seem to be a need for it. ¡°Though I don¡¯t see a reason to go through the effort. I apologize Emma, I cannot for the life of me fathom this incongruence in logic.¡± ¡°You guys said you didn¡¯t know anything about this duplicity ritual, or whatever the fuck a null was. Maybe the answer is staring us right in the face?¡± I theorized. ¡°Thacea, you mentioned replicating the likeness of another right? What if that¡¯s what the Uven doppelganger was? And what if this whole null thing is something related to that?¡± I offered. ¡°That¡¯s not how illusionary spells work, Emma.¡± The avian replied bluntly. ¡°They¡¯re transient, and I¡¯ve never once heard the term null being used in the context of any illusionary or light spell.¡± I paused, considering the situation as I broached another possibility. ¡°Maybe, just maybe, they¡¯re trying to clone whoever¡¯s bound to the book? That¡¯d explain the whole Uven situation. It¡¯d explain why Mal¡¯tory prefaced the null by saying Emma Booker¡¯s null. Maybe they were trying to clone me from the book? And for some reason, Uven as well?¡± I offered, basically throwing it all out there as the pair stared back at me with a look of absolute confusion. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean by cloning, Emma.¡± Thalmin responded simply. ¡°But if you¡¯re implying what I think you¡¯re implying, that being the creation of another version of yourself from a soulbound signature¡­ then I¡¯ve never heard of such a thing.¡± The mercenary prince confessed. ¡°Thalmin is right, Emma.¡± The princess offered. ¡°I understand this is your first exposure to our world, and to the capabilities of magic. It is difficult to gauge what is and isn¡¯t possible, but what you¡¯re describing is one of the aspects of known magic that is simply in the realm of impossibility.¡± A silence quickly descended on the room after that, with no one willing to break it. Until finally, Thacea decided to continue where she left off. ¡°Unless¡­ of course, that it is possible, and we both are simply ignorant of it.¡± The princess admitted with a sharp chirp. ¡°There is only one place I can think of where we may be able to uncover the truth behind the ritual of duplicity and the true nature of these nulls.¡± Thacea offered, which certainly caught my full and undivided attention. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°The library.¡± The avian spoke succinctly. The entire chain of events leading up to this point just outright snapped at this idea, as every fiber of my being refused to believe what I¡¯d just heard. I turned back to Thalmin, who instead of hosting what should have been a look of similar incredulous disbelief had simply shifted to a look of minor doubt, as if the proposal was somehow reasonable enough to even entertain as an option worth exploring. ¡°Are you serious?¡± I snapped back. ¡°Yes.¡± Thacea replied with a cock of her head, as if unable to grasp just why this was a bad idea. I let out another sigh as I attempted to grip my forehead, resulting in my hands once again bonking against the glass and composites of my helmet; the armor refusing to let me emote as much as I would¡¯ve liked to. ¡°Thacea, wouldn¡¯t the library be the last place in the world we should be headed to? It¡¯s literally part of the Academy, and the whole place is under the iron fist of an administration conspiring against us. If we were to waltz in, request a book on the hot topic of the day, wouldn¡¯t that raise a few red flags with the librarian? Or wouldn¡¯t some alarm be raised, notifying the administration that a student just so happens to be interested in an obscure, scarcely known topic, that coincidentally lines up with the current struggles faced by the upper brass?¡± I offered, not once realizing that perhaps things might have worked differently here. Earth, the UN, and the entirety of humanity had been spoiled by an age of unbridled access to information. The past 1000 years of human history since the invention of the internet was, without a doubt, a game changer in the mentality of every single generation since its inception. Yet as much as information was freely available, so too was it capable of being flagged by the appropriate authorities. This was a given, at least in my mind, so much so that it never occurred to me that this might have been the point where I finally took a deep dive into fundamental systemic incongruency. Because after nearly thirty generations of constant exposure to the internet, and by extension twelve generations of exposure to the infosphere, was enough to establish a set of fundamental beliefs so ingrained that it was difficult to really think outside of it. Part of me realized that was the case as soon as I¡¯d finished laying out my points. But still. Wouldn¡¯t it just make sense for a place so embroiled in its political games, to be on top of the information restriction game? ¡°Those are entirely valid concerns to have, Emma.¡± Thacea responded with a heavy nod. ¡°And they would be entirely pertinent to our current predicament and directional course, if the library was in fact, an Academy-bound institution.¡± There was a brief pause where Thacea took the time to establish eye contact with me. Looking right at me through my opaque lenses with those sharp, calculating eyes of hers. It took a second, but I realized what she was doing. She was pausing for dramatic effect. A gotcha moment, that was so out of character that I had to do a double take just as she¡¯d already departed with the rest of the conversation. ¡°Thankfully, that is not the case, and it has never been the case from the inception of The Library, and the Academy. For both were established for vastly different purposes, by two entirely different parties, which to this day, maintain the same agreements set forth by their respective charters.¡± I turned back to Thalmin to gauge his reaction, which had remained the same stalwart look of apprehension. ¡°The princess is right.¡± The mercenary prince spoke with a heavy sigh. ¡°However, the library is a place of trickery and deceit.¡± He warned, as he got up and stretched, holding both arms behind his head as he continued to speak his mind. ¡°The princess will have more knowledge on this matter than I do, I admit. However, I am not entirely illiterate on the topic of the Nexus and its deeper lore. The fact of the matter is, the library is an enigma, and a living antithesis to its very existence. Legends speak of a great ivory tower, holding all worldly and magical knowledge. A tower which is supposed to be accessible to all, no matter what their station. Yet was built atop a sheer cliff face, precariously overlooking a waterfall, with the only known passage being a small bridge originating from within the Academy¡¯s grounds. It claims to offer knowledge to all, yet it requires magical accumen to comb its great archives. It claims no allegiance but to the spirit of knowledge, yet it constructs enigmatic rules which serve no one but itself.¡± The explanation felt like it was equal measures, a fairy tale being recounted, and a bitter disenfranchised partisan venting his frustrations. It was a strange dichotomy that honestly felt like tonal whiplash, but then again, tonal whiplash was starting to become the norm here rather than the exception. I craned my head over to face Thacea, as if to gauge whether or not these explanations were in fact, valid. I was met with a careful pondering look of reflection, which very much matched what the avian had to say in response. ¡°Those are the primary issues with the Library, albeit abbreviated and embellished.¡± Thacea admitted. ¡°As many would say, the library works in mysterious ways. Yet it is the only equalizer in an otherwise Nexus-dominated reality. Yes, it is meant to be accessible to all, but it positions itself in such a way that makes that relatively difficult for the average commoner to access, let alone discover what they seek without the aid of magic.¡± It was at that point that I decided to make an executive decision. ¡°All I need to know is if this library is in fact a separate entity, and won¡¯t rat us out to the Academy.¡± I made sure to maintain eye contact with the other two, despite knowing it probably meant nothing given the helmet. ¡°I¡¯m really trusting you guys on this one here, so just answer me that one simple question.¡± Both Thacea and Thalmin locked eyes, and nodded simultaneously. ¡°That is correct.¡± The pair responded. ¡°Then that¡¯s all I need to know. Let¡¯s head to this library, figure out what the hell a null is, what this ritual of duplicity is, and get back on track to getting the bomb situation sorted, because I¡¯m starting to get really annoyed by all this side-questing.¡± I made my intentions clear, and with little in the way of anything else to add, the three of us left the dorms with Thacea leading the way.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to The Library. Local Time: 1050 Hours. Unlike many of the other locations we¡¯d previously entered over the course of the day and a half, the library actually required us to exit the main structure of the castle for the very first time. A pair of unassuming double doors marked the end of the castle proper, and the start of something completely breathtaking. Through those double doors was a massive open expanse of sky. Or at least, that¡¯s what it felt like at first as we were met with nothing but open space on all sides, with the exception of a narrow, stone bridge barely two bodies wide in front of us. The spindly, narrow bridge was all that connected the castle to the stark white tower that stood ominously in front of us. A tower which soared at least a hundred stories overhead, perched atop of what could only be described as a small rocky outcropping on the other side of the waterfall that I¡¯d noticed from the Grand Dining Hall just earlier this morning. The structure was bland, resembling a cylindrical pillar of pure white that pierced the misty fog above us. Indeed, it was completely separate from the Academy, connected only by a walkway that didn¡¯t even look like it could support Thalmin¡¯s weight, let alone my weight. The cacophonous roaring of the water around us was logged at a deafening 91 decibels, and would¡¯ve been overwhelming if it wasn¡¯t for my suit and my decade spent in the heart of the noise capital of the world: the Acela Corridor. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS I heard the suit bark at me a total of two times, the source of these spikes in mana radiation quickly being narrowed down to both Thacea and Thalmin. It was clear that they¡¯d probably used some sort of magic to deal with the deafening sound from the waterfall as well. Thacea took the lead in walking forward towards this awe inspiring structure, not once flinching as I took it upon myself to follow, confident that whatever magic that was behind the impossibility of this structure would somehow keep it stable as I walked over to the other side. There was a single, unassuming timber door that provided the only entry between the world outside and the massive tower which we now stood at the base of. Unlike everything in the Academy, its design was unassuming, bland, and dare I say very commoner-looking. There were no embellishments, no golden trimmings, but at the same time, the timber and steel looked as if it had shrugged off any corrosion or wear and tear that would¡¯ve been expected in an environment this extreme. Regardless, I allowed the Princess to once again take point, as she gave the door a series of carefully timed knocks. Seconds passed. And we received no response. It was only after a minute had passed before the door finally opened, revealing a space that should not have been possible as far as euclidean geometry was concerned. The base of the structure from the outside was barely 140 feet in diameter. The room I was currently standing in, in stark contrast, was larger than the largest of the mega-stadiums down south. Suffice it to say the size of the space within the spire was well beyond the dimensions we¡¯d seen of it on the outside, and the cause behind this phenomenon became very much apparent in the form of a simple alert. ALERT: INCREASE IN BACKGROUND MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BENCHMARK BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS. The place was bathed in a heavy uptick in mana, which was more than likely the source of all of this non euclidean tomfoolery. ¡°What is it you seek?¡±A voice suddenly peeped up. Though it wasn¡¯t anything grand as I¡¯d expected, nor was it something that would¡¯ve fit the bill of being even remotely intimidating. Instead, it was a squeaky, cordial voice, that didn¡¯t come from another stuck-up elf or some self-deluded noble, no. Instead, I had to look down to determine the source of that voice, as I was met face to face with someone, or rather, something I never expected. Coming in at barely a foot in height, was a red fox with a book wedged inside its maw. One that sat patiently with both of its paws politely splayed out in front of it. Its fluffy, feather-duster-like tail swishing to and fro, its eyes transfixed not on Thacea who was closest to it, nor at Thalmin, but at me. Chapter 18: Study Buddy There I was, my gaze locked with a polite looking fox that continually cocked its head from one side to the other. Causing those two, large, fluffy ears to sway back and forth with each and every swing. ¡°I erm.¡± I looked to Thacea, expecting her to take the charge but given how her eyes shot back a you¡¯re on your own now kind of expression, I knew it was my time to shine. ¡°I¡¯ll be brief, I¡¯m just looking for a concise, succinct explanation on two subjects. One: The Ritual of Duplicity, and Two: Nulls. With the latter more than likely having something to do with the former.¡± I spoke with as clear of an enunciation as I could through my vocoders. The fox perked up at that, not at the two subjects I¡¯d brought up in particular, but at something else. ¡°Speak, speak again!¡± It leaped up at me, its tail wagging furiously now as it jumped up and down on its hind legs, placing both of its forepaws against my armored knee; using it as a brace as it remained upright. ¡°Erm, I¡¯m looking for a brief explanation on the ritual of duplicity and nulls?¡± I asked again, not fully understanding the fox¡¯s over-eagerness here, but very much willing to go along with its sudden burst of over-excitability. The ball of fluffy white and orange fur chuckled in absolute joy anytime I spoke, cackling wildly in jubilation, as it leaped up at me yet again. This time, it managed to just reach my neckline, as it now dangled precariously with both of its forepaws holding the lip of my chest-plate and both of its hind legs kicking at the air in a futile attempt to gain more purchase. Despite this, it still managed to get even closer, as it used the tip of its snout to sniff at my vocoder, before gently booping it once, then again, then several more times for good measure. ¡°Oh my, oh dear, oh my! Oh how novel! Oh how new! Oh what a breath of fresh air!¡± It kept giggling, cackling even as it kept booping the small speaker unit affixed to my vocoder in rapid succession. ¡°Oh my dear, I am so sorry, I never quite caught your name! Please! Your name! I must have your name!¡± It excitedly shuddered. ¡°Erm¡­ I¡¯m Emma Booker. Cadet Emma Booker.¡± I spoke with a clear air of uncertainty. ¡°Emma Booker, Cadet, cadet of what? Of where? Which realm? What civilization? What species? What peoples? What culture? Oh. Ah, a commoner too! How exciting!¡± The damn fluffball was on the verge of a seizure at that point as I decided to peel it away from my chestplate, holding it with two hands underneath its forelegs all the while it beamed back the biggest smile I¡¯d ever seen. Its eyes were practically filled to the brim with a euphoric satisfaction I¡¯d never even seen before on a human, let alone a fucking fox. ¡°Hey buddy, you gotta relax. Please? I don¡¯t wanna be the reason why a librarian fox seized on library grounds y¡¯know.¡± I managed out dryly as the fox closed its eyes and increased the breakneck pace of its tail wagging. ¡°Yes! The new one has given me a name! That shall be my new designation! I am Buddy! Your library assistant!¡± It yapped out in delight, at which point I noticed tens, no, hundreds of beady little fox-like eyes emerging from around us, all of which seemed to whimper in disappointment, before slinking back into the darkness as quickly as they¡¯d appeared. ¡°However, I am not the librarian! I only speak for them! I am, however, authorized to grant you access within reason! And given your¡­¡± It paused, as it used its black little nose to sniff my hands with great enthusiasm. ¡°Uniqueness, I think a deal can be struck!¡± ¡°Whoa whoah whoah¡± I held the fox further away from me now. ¡°Listen pal, I¡¯m not here to play info-brokerage, I¡¯m here to find answers and-¡± ¡°Oh, my apologies for being so brash! Your mere presence here is payment enough for the information you seek! It will be an honor to serve you, Cadet Emma Booker! If you wish for more knowledge in the future we can discuss further exchanges. But for now, I wish to bring you to what you seek, come, come!¡± The fox somehow managed to wriggle its way out of my hands, landing on its four little feet, committing to a silly little dance before skittering forward urging for us to follow. And follow we did, as we passed the main concourse and the continuously rotating aisles of books, towards a maze-like arrangement of shelves that took us deeper and deeper into a space that should not have been physically possible. At least, not with the dimensions of the tower we¡¯d seen outside. My poor EVI had all but given up on making sense of things at this point, the frazzled program was at this point reduced to yelling out error after error message on all matters relating to topography and telemetry, as we delved deeper into the library. Seeing all of these otherworldly, completely ridiculous and enigmatic approaches to information organization immediately put me in mind of Thalmin¡¯s opinionated stance towards the library. It was clear now what Thalmin actually meant by how unfair the library was. If it wasn¡¯t for the fox¡¯s willingness to guide us through this labyrinth, it¡¯d be impossible for you to really gain your bearings, let alone find what it was you were looking for in the first place. I guess you could technically navigate the library yourself, and that this technically meant that anyone could have access to the library. But that was a technicality that bordered on outright sadistic humor given the sheer scale and nonsensical approach to information organization. We went from hallways of shelves that looked as if they belonged in some sort of dingy underwater shipwreck, drenched in water and moss, to ones that would¡¯ve fit well in the NAU¡¯s congressional library with its stark minimalism and homage to old world designs. Every single book on display was in varying states of repair and disrepair, though I imagine that a bit of magic was all you needed to actually access anything. After a good 10 minutes of walking however, we finally reached it. An unassuming wooden shelf with books stacked atop of one another, unorganized, and in complete disarray. Next to it, was a desk clearly meant for reading, with a window allowing natural light through, or so I thought. As a quick glance at it from my enhanced optics revealed it wasn¡¯t a window at all but simply some sort of an artificial light fixture that for all intents and purposes mimicked a paned window with blindingly bright daylight piercing through it. ¡°Ritual of duplicity!¡± The fox jumped up and down, placing a paw on a thick leather bound book which was flung unceremoniously to a desk just adjacent to the shelf. ¡°Aaand nulls!¡± Another book was pulled out, flying straight to the desk as both books opened on their own volition, flipping through thousands of pages before landing exactly where the relevant information was held. ¡°You requested for a brief, succinct, explanation, I have collated two pages for each!¡± The little thing yapped proudly, running in circles around me as I couldn¡¯t help myself but to let out a sigh, before kneeling down to pat the thing on the head. It clearly appreciated this as it stopped its breakneck hyperactive pace of excitable pacing, settling down into a pile of fox that purred, yapped, and yipped in my hands. I quickly shot a glance at Thacea, cocking my head to the books, signaling for her to start reading as I took the time to get better acquainted with the library assistant. Yet as soon as Thacea settled herself at the desk, the fox shot up, its fur puffing up as it bore its fangs in an aggressive display of threatening growls. A series of strategically placed, soothing touches was all that was needed for the thing to calm down however. As I made sure to push the suit¡¯s haptic feedback to its max settings, whilst simultaneously bumping down any and all of the suit¡¯s strength enhancements in order to facilitate the most optimal pressure settings to ensure a soft gentle petting session. ¡°She¡¯s with me.¡± I spoke softly, which seemed to be all that was required for the fox to finally stand down. ¡°Alright.¡± Thacea let out a tired sigh, her attention now squarely focused on the two books in front of her. It took a few minutes, and in that time I administered more pats, scratches, and belly rubs than I could count. A brief glance towards Thalmin revealed a face that bordered on nervous jealousy as he maintained careful guard over the both of us throughout all of this. That was all the time that was needed however as the quick witted avinor soon got the gist of the topic at hand. And the results weren''t fantastic. ¡°Emma.¡± Thacea spoke, her voice was shaky, her cadence unsteady; sending a newfound wave of dread which overwhelmed me despite the presence of my newfound fur-buddy. ¡°What did you find out?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ll just be out with it. The ritual of duplicity, according to these passages, is a ritual specifically designed for books of binding, or books of souls. Its expressed purpose is that of the creation of a duplicant, a being that shares the soul of a victim of the soulbinding process. This duplicant will in effect embody the physical characteristics of the soulbound individual, but is otherwise incapable of independent thought and will operate under the orders of the individual or individuals behind the ritual. The quality of the duplicant, i.e. its likeness and capacity to integrate into society, is directly dependent on the quality of the soulbinding process. So a fully bound soul will result in a duplicant of exceptional likeness. A partially bound soul will result in a duplicant with obvious flaws or features which will hamper its likeness to the original. However¡­ a soul that has not been bound whatsoever, will result in a null.¡± Thacea shifted in her seat, moving over to the other book. ¡°A null, by every metric of the name, is the failed result of a ritual of duplicity, and is in essence a fully animated and self-aware mass of humanoid substrate. It knows nothing, desires nothing save for the completion of itself. All it knows is the name of the being it was destined to become, but had failed to become likened to. Its only goal, its obsession, is to become complete, and will stop at nothing to achieve a complete physical likeness of its namesake, and to become host to its namesake¡¯s soul. In effect, becoming the name it had failed to be imbued with.¡± All of the warmth, calm, and joy I¡¯d nominally received from those few minutes with the fox had all but sublimated within the span of a scant few moments. My blood ran cold as my mind went through every possible scenario involving what was in effect one of those body double stories that had been something of a somewhat common trope in quite a few of those fantasy novels I¡¯d read as a kid. The implications weren¡¯t great, not even in those books meant for kids and adolescents. With most of the subtext dominated by vague imagery alluding to more grotesque and terrifying implications of what a failed body double actually looked like, allowing the mind to fill in the gaps of just what horrors awaited me. Beyond that, were the troubling aims of this thing, and what lengths it would go to in order to, as Thacea puts it: achieve a complete physical likeness of me. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Yet despite this, I pushed those thoughts aside as quickly as they¡¯d manifested. Whilst this was a fantastical world with elements of tainted debauchery, that didn¡¯t mean that I was the same ill-equipped protagonist that had populated the pages of the novels I¡¯d read as a kid. I wasn¡¯t some budding adventurer punching well above their weight limit. No. I was armed to the teeth, equipped with weapons, tools, and countless more measures designed to protect me and to facilitate this mission. I wasn¡¯t some lone adventurer with nothing to their name, I was here on behalf of an entire space faring polity, united in a singular effort in exploring this great unknown. I was an explorer, the first true pioneer in a century of stagnated space exploration. What did I have to fear from some gangly collection of¡­ whatever constituted a humanoid substrate here? I wasn¡¯t playing by their rules, I wasn¡¯t abiding by their logic. I kept reminding myself. Yet whilst the reminders of that mantra were literally attached to my very person, namely in the form of the armor, I couldn¡¯t help but to feel that nagging sense of unease continuously churning within me. Because while it was comforting to know I could handle this threat, the fact that it was still elusive somewhere out there was what was getting to me. The fact that I wasn¡¯t facing it head-on, and I didn¡¯t know where it was at any given time, was beyond distressing. The suit didn¡¯t allow for much in the way of physical expression, let alone facial expressions to betray what I currently felt. Yet the fox seemed to just intuitively know that something was wrong as it pushed its little head against the backside of my palm, as if trying to pull me back from the annals of my own overactive imagination, as it dragged me back towards reality. Or, at the very least, it seemed to be trying to lift up my spirits by way of leveraging its cuteness. I would be lying if I said it wasn¡¯t working as I let out a sigh and continued scratching away. Those little high-pitched mewlings were like music to my ears, but I didn¡¯t let it overtake my current priorities, as I once more regarded Thacea with a strained tone of voice. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve never heard of any of this, then?¡± I inquired. ¡°No. This is information that I¡¯ve never once come across, nor is it anything I¡¯d even remotely heard about. Not in rumors, not in hushed conversations, nothing. This is information that would be closely guarded within the Academy¡¯s internal repositories, or perhaps even known only within the closed circles of the Nexian upper echelon. Which is why¡­¡± The avian trailed off, her eyes clearly fixated on the fox which continued to squirm and shiver upon my lap as I remained sat there cross legged on the floor. ¡°Which is why I don¡¯t quite follow just how we were able to attain this knowledge so readily, so easily.¡± The princess attempted to vocalize her concerns in a manner that wouldn¡¯t be read as an immediate and outright accusation. ¡°The information we have just received was given to us as freely as a box of jewels and mana-imbued pendants for a Nexian noble¡¯s betrothal.¡± Thalmin interjected with a dulcet growl, all but confronting the issue head on as his words were well and truly aimed at the fox in question. ¡°Just what is the deal being struck here, fox-¡± The fox turned to face Thalmin with a sharp, high-pitched growl emerging from within its throat, as it regarded the wolf with as threatening of a face as it could muster. That is to say, not at all given its fuzzy and pettable demeanor. ¡°You shall address me by my current title, outsider. I am Buddy, personal assistant to the new one, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Thalmin backed off, realizing this wasn¡¯t a fight worth picking as it was clearly up to me now to pick things back up, as I¡¯d somehow become the unwitting intermediary between our ragtag group and this enigmatic place. ¡°Shh, it¡¯s alright buddy it¡¯s alright, the big bad wolf didn¡¯t mean it.¡± I cooed, which probably sounded incredibly weird through my vocoders and to any outside observer looking in. The library had more than likely never had a power armored behemoth sitting cross legged on the floor petting a grumpy fox I¡¯d imagine¡­ The little bundle of fur once more melted into my hands, as I gave it a few more minutes before addressing it once more, this time in an attempt to get right to the bottom of things. ¡°You still with me, Buddy?¡± I asked softly, practically whispering into one of its ears as it perked up in my direction almost immediately. ¡°Yes Cadet Emma Booker!¡± It excitedly yapped out. ¡°Erm, just, Emma is fine. Anyways, I must ask. This ritual of duplicity¡­ what purpose does it actually serve?¡± I inquired, eliciting a sharp look of confusion from Thalmin, but a knowing look of acknowledgement from the likes of Thacea. ¡°Could you clarify your inquiry, Emma?¡± The fox yipped out sharply. ¡°Well, the excerpt you provided, which mind you was very helpful!¡± I quickly complimented the fox, giving it a belly rub for good measure as it cackled softly in delight. ¡°Had only mentioned that this duplicant will act more or less on the orders of its creators. Now, that would make sense for most who sign the book. But are there any other uses for duplicants? Any recorded instance where a duplicant would be used for something other than being puppeted?¡± I asked in no uncertain terms. The fact of the matter was, I couldn¡¯t see any reason why the faculty would attempt to create a duplicant of me in particular. The stated purposes up to this point had been clearly meant for infiltration, which wouldn¡¯t have worked in my case given the fact that anything remotely mana-related would more than likely die on my side of the portal. So there had to be something else to it. There was clearly something more to it than just the creation of a body-double for mere puppetting. ¡°Hmm¡­ oh! Yes! The esoteric uses for a duplicant! Yes yes yes, I remember now, I remember now! Hmm, very old, rarely used, but very very messy.¡± The fox noted, before moving to cover its small snout with both of its forepaws. ¡°My apologies! As a library assistant I may not speak my own mind on objective truths! Please, allow me!¡± And just like that another book from the shelves flew out, landing straight atop of the two books already open in front of Thacea, flicking open on its own volition to reveal a single page of text, with the other page strangely left blank. It was at this point that Thacea once again got back to reading, as she made sure to relay her findings in short order. ¡°The ritual of duplicity is one that not merely has its uses in the puppetry of those that require intervention by the enlightened regime of the Nexus.¡± She read off the passage verbatim. ¡°In instances of crisis, or in circumstances which demand it, such as the arrival of a wholly unknown newrealmer, it is customary to enact such a ritual in order to better understand the visceral nature of those who will in time become part of the realm.¡± Thacea paused, reading forward a bit as her eyes now grew wide in shock. ¡°It¡­ it is known that the Nexus must know everything about its subjects and fellows. For the purposes of healing, and for the purposes of the pursuit of knowledge, all new realmers must be studied. Everything from their physiological ability to sustain life, to their fundamental ability to channel mana must be scrutinized. The duplicant is an essential resource for understanding new species, and for the evaluation of their mana potential, their relation to taint, and how best to approach the process of systematic species alteration should it be required.¡± Thacea¡¯s voice shook and hiked sharply at the end of that paragraph, she refused to add anything else other than a disgusted chirp which resonated throughout the room. ¡°What did you expect?¡± Thalmin broke through the silence. ¡°This is what the Nexus is, this is what it does.¡± He blurted out, as if using the recently acquired knowledge to back up his more than justified qualms against the Nexus. ¡°Ancestors above, I¡¯m sorry about all of this Emma.¡± He turned to me with a look of genuine sympathy. ¡°This is not how you fight your battles. This is beyond dishonorable. But let it be known that whatever this beast is, and whatever the Nexus throws at us, I shall be by your side.¡± The lupinor offered, beaming out a genuinely chivalrous smile that casted a much needed light of hope in an increasingly distressing situation. I gave Thalmin an appreciative nod, as I shifted to tackle the immense task of bringing this investigation to its logical conclusion. ¡°Right¡­ let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves here. Let¡¯s put the pieces together, starting with the ritual last night.¡± I quickly craned my head to face the avinor. ¡°I think we¡¯ve established by now that the ritual failed, as my suit completely resisted it, and thus this fucked up yearbook has no traces of my soul or whatever. This checks out with what we know with the failure of the ritual of duplicity, as when it¡¯s done on a name that failed to bind, it¡¯d result in a null. Do I have all of that right, or am I missing something here?¡± ¡°Those are my current assertions, yes.¡± Thacea nodded affirmatively. ¡°Alright, sorry, I just need to make sure we¡¯re on the same page. This magic bullshit isn¡¯t my fucking forte after all.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Alright, so, that¡¯s part one of the puzzle figured out. Part two, is why. I assume that the whole ritual isn¡¯t meant to duplicate me for the sake of passing off the duplicant as me. Because¡­ well, what would be the point? Send my duplicant back through the portal? The thing¡¯s made up of magic, it¡¯d die. Use that duplicant to be me in the Nexus? Well¡­ what the fuck is the use of me, if I¡¯m always in my armor anyways? So I know this is fucked up to assume but, we gotta assume that the damn thing¡¯s meant to be opened up for research or whatever.¡± I attempted to play it off, but it still felt genuinely fucked up. It was one thing to read this sort of thing or to see it play out on a screen, it was another to actually be here, to be the one being the target of this sort of crap. ¡°That is where I assume we currently stand, yes.¡± Thacea once more nodded, albeit more warily this time around. ¡°I believe your next line of questioning is regarding why the faculty has decided on venturing down this foolhardy path?¡± ¡°Yeah, I was about to get to that. Given how this crap is so easily summed up in an excerpt, I¡¯d expect those at the top to be well aware of its limitations and what would result if it fucks up.¡± I uttered out, as I now turned towards the only other being here in this entire place that seemed to be offering more answers than questions. ¡°You have any ideas, buddy?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t quite follow your line of inquiry, Emma. Could you rephrase it for me?¡± The fox yapped back excitedly. ¡°I wanted to know if you had any opinions about why someone would perform a ritual of duplicity despite knowing full well that it would fail because-¡± The whole room shook. Once, then twice, then again and again as books shifted and shook in their place; pushed precariously close to the edge, but refusing to fall. The chandelier that had been above our heads all this time started rattling, as did the window frame that was now thrown off-kilter, revealing itself to be more of a picture frame than the window it was purporting to be. It was at the height of all of this that I realized something else was amiss. Granted, everything about the place was already stretching the very definition of the word, but this was different. Everything about this place had been eerily stagnant since our arrival. There were no other entities within the suit¡¯s sensor range, there was hardly any movement, not even specks of dust larger than a few micrometers. Everything up to this point had been a carefully laid out and stable environment. Everything was in its place, everything had an orderly chaos to it. Nothing was left to chance. So when the EVI detected a lone, aberrant object appearing out of thin air above us, it set off alarms that immediately caught my attention as I craned my head up just in time to catch sight of this anomaly. It was a feather. A single, mahogany brown feather, with speckled white and light brown spots scattered throughout. This unexpected foreign object glided to the floor without anyone else noticing. No one except for the fox who all but stopped in his tracks. I immediately turned to Thacea, pointing at the feather in question. ¡°Is that yours, Thacea?¡± Thacea turned to me, with the greatest look of incredulity and indignant shock I¡¯d seen from her thus far. ¡°I beg your pardon? Emma, there are certain rules you must know regarding the attribution of one¡¯s fallen feathers to another.¡± She spoke, in a manner that barely hid her irritation, before the implications of another feather suddenly appearing in the room dawned on her. None of us spoke. The tension in the room was established and broken in rapid succession as these loud, otherworldly gusts of wind buffeted the entire room. Each gust of wind was preceded by a walloping rustling, similar to the sound a giant tarp would make in hurricane-force winds. Yet all of this ended as soon as it had started, as we heard the rustling of feathers from across the room, in an area blanketed by darkness. The few sources of light that did exist now casted a shadow of a creature of immense size and proportions, rounded, with a distinctly spherical shape sat atop of an ovoid body. The room shook with each step it took, as I signaled for Thacea to stand behind me, while I reached for my sidearm just as the creature entered the light of the room proper. Thalmin, meanwhile, had already unsheathed his blade, readying it in front him. What had been a shadow that had blanketed nearly the entire section of the room we were in, was now gone. What stood in its place at the crossroads between the light and the dark was an owl. A round, plump, boy that looked like someone had overinflated a football and stuck an oversized softball atop of it. Atop that head was a graduation cap that sat perfectly atop its round little head. Its height was just short of a football¡¯s, though the same couldn¡¯t be said for its girth. With a single rustle of its spotted white and brown feathers, it began hopping towards us in a series of slow, purposeful hops. Chapter 19: Knowledge for Knowledge What do you get when you put a fox, an owl, a humanoid bird, and an anthropomorphic wolf all under the same non-euclidean roof alongside a power armored human? If there was anyone out there who was capable of answering this then I applaud their creativity, because personally, I was at a loss for words. There I was yet again, sandwiched within layers of synthetic weave and metal composites, staring down an owl whose eyes betrayed a look of sullen annoyance that bordered on outright disdain. All the while the incessant unmitigable pings of push notification after push notification kept reminding me that this was in fact my current reality, and not some fever dream stemming from a night of heavy binge reading. The owl that had entered with the theatrics befitting of an endgame boss had now positioned itself just a few feet away from me. So close that I now felt one of the worst bouts of tonal whiplash slapping me across the face, as all of the sinister flair it¡¯d incurred from its dramatic entrance had all but been cast aside by way of its short and pudgy stature. What should have been the arrival of a beast, rivaling the scale and ferocity of a dragon, was instead replaced by a small plump owl. Not a dragon owl, mind you. Nor some sort of an owl-like beast. But a regular, almost insultingly, normal-sized owl. One that barely reached my shins if I were to be generous and count its hat as part of its total height. It was as if a dungeon master had pulled out all the stops in the buildup to an endgame boss, only to whip out a dollar store model of the boss in question, completely undermining what should have been the highlight of the entire experience. Our stare-down felt like it¡¯d gone on for an entire minute, before finally, it grew tired of me, and walked straight past me altogether; focusing on the fox as the poor thing bowed its little head in response. Its snout all but resting on the cold marble floor of the library, whimpering out small little cries as it stared up meekly at the owl. ¡°So. Buddy now, is it?¡± The owl finally spoke, its voice¡­ was very much what I¡¯d expected of a creature of its size. Sure it was deep, but only as deep as an owl¡¯s hoot could really go, with the rest of its intonation eerily smooth and composed. Whereas the fox had an animated quality to him, each and every word punctuated with yips, yaps, and an undercurrent of excitable foxness, the owl instead carried itself more akin to a person. Dare I say it, it carried itself more in a manner more distinguished than a majority of the student body I¡¯d met to date, Ilunor included. ¡°Y-yes Librarian.¡± The fox yipped out meekly, just before the scene took an unexpected turn. Without warning, and without any hesitation, the owl stepped forward and pressed its claw firmly against the fox¡¯s head. Its blunted talons tightened, clenching the fox¡¯s scalp in an iron grip, cinching up its warm orange fur in the process. ¡°Yours is a story of consistent inconsistency. For a great achievement has been sullied by an unsatisfactory transaction. A transaction which favors the knowledge seeker, but not the knowledge holder. An unfairness has occurred, and the library is nothing if not fair. So please, Buddy, utilize your newfound position to strike a balance where an imbalance has been incurred.¡± The owl spoke in a manner that sounded more like instruction than condescension. Almost as quickly as it had begun its assault on the fox, so too did it stop, as it relented, and merely positioned itself atop of the fox¡¯s head. Using it as a perch as Buddy now approached me, staring warily at my opaque lenses. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker, as your personal library assistant, it is my responsibility to both represent your interests and that of the library¡¯s. I apologize if I have not made this relationship clear at first, and I apologize if I have underperformed in my capacity as a facilitator of knowledge. It is clear at this point that I have disproportionately favored my responsibilities to you as our patron, and disregarded my responsibilities to the library as its assistant. I have undervalued the knowledge bestowed upon you from this library, and for that I must also apologize. There now exists a deficit that must be corrected. In short, the library requires that a toll be paid for the services which I have rendered.¡± Buddy spoke in a manner that clearly indicated he didn''t want to do this, but rather, had to do this as part of whatever responsibilities he was bound to. A part of me would¡¯ve been massively impressed by the fox¡¯s ascent into business-formal eloquence, especially considering how most of our interactions up until this point had been decidedly less than business casual. That part of me however was kept more or less in check by more pressing concerns. ¡°A toll?¡± I parroted back. ¡°I did say I¡¯m not in the market for info-brokerage, and you explicitly stated that my presence here was sufficient enough payment for granting us access to the information we were after.¡± I stated plainly. The owl let out a series of purposefully placed hoots at my rebuttal, each and every one carrying with it an overture of disappointment that caused the fox it was perched atop to whine out in apologetics. ¡°You have neglected to inform our new patron of the rules and standards of the library?¡± The owl spoke, the conversation once again directed not towards me but the fox. ¡°I¡­ I have only hinted at it briefly, librarian. Although I was intending to inform her of it once-¡± The owl all but shot down the fox¡¯s attempt at an excuse with a simple remark. ¡°There is a time and a place for apologies, but this isn¡¯t one of them, Buddy.¡± There was a terseness to its voice, yes, but there was something else to it that I found surprising given what I¡¯d expected from a place like this. There was a sense of genuine honesty there. This wasn¡¯t another one of the Nexus¡¯ thinly veiled attempts at a petty jab, nor was it some attempt at instruction coated with contempt and interpersonal rivalry. No. This was one of the few instances of a conversation that didn¡¯t carry with it any duplicitous undertones. ¡°I shall take the reins as the primary conduit, and you shall remain in my shadow. Watch carefully, and let this be a learning experience.¡± The owl spoke calmly, before shifting its orange face towards me. I took charge, setting the stage for the conversation on my own terms. ¡°Whilst I could go into a whole rant regarding my personal reservations on info-brokerage, I¡¯m going to assume you have some sort of convoluted reasoning as to how this whole arrangement doesn¡¯t actually constitute as info-brokering?¡± I immediately started off the conversation, making my stance known without going too far into outright false assumptions. It would be so easy to simply construct my own narrative on this place, to create a set of fixed false beliefs right out of the gate. But it wouldn¡¯t be the right, nor the smart thing to do. I had my personal gripes, but I was willing to hear out the other side before I came to my own conclusions. ¡°The library appreciates that its newest patron is one that presents with a level head and an open mind. Albeit your choice of words can be construed as confrontational, I cannot fault you for your current dispositions, given the transactional faux pas incurred by your personal assistant; and by extension myself. For this, I take personal accountability.¡± The owl nodded once, or rather, rolled its head back and forth in a way an owl only could. I know this might sound crazy, especially given the track record of those in charge in the Nexus thus far, but I felt like the owl actually meant everything it said. In fact, it seemed outright apologetic. Sure it was wordy, but it was an admission of guilt and a genuine attempt to take responsibility. Something I haven¡¯t actually yet seen in this place thus far. Is this an actual reasonable, level-headed person in a position of power? Guess the SIOP manual¡¯s section of conventional diplomacy is going to be of use after all. ¡°My people sent me here with the intent of establishing constructive and open dialogue. Open mindedness and a willingness to compromise, within reason, with a goal of reaching mutual understanding are just some of the defining characteristics of myself and the civilization I hail from. Whilst this doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll take everything at face value, it does mean that I¡¯m willing and able to sit down for a civil conversation, as long as there exists a reciprocation of mutual respect.¡± I offered, setting down the ground rules of the conversation. This clearly intrigued the owl, as it straightened itself atop of the fox¡¯s head. ¡°Open mindedness and a willingness to compromise. Constructive and open dialogue. Mutual understanding.¡± The owl parroted back, taking the time to ponder on each and every one of the buzzwords I¡¯d brought over from those diplomacy 101 classes. ¡°Tell me, Cadet Emma Booker, are those words of your own choosing, or are they the words of a wiser elder speaking through you?¡± I paused at that, taking the scant few seconds of silence to choose between going down the diplomatic ratrace that was the SIOP conversational algorithm, or adding my own spin to the mix. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that if I answer that question, it will be you who will have incurred a deficit of knowledge on your part. I refuse to enter another transaction before the full extent of the rules of the library are revealed to me first.¡± I decided on the latter, really embracing the personal initiative aspects of my mission parameters. The Director did say a lot of this mission would fall into adapting and improvising to my surroundings after all¡­ The owl didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t so much as blink, as I could feel a response formulating behind those intelligent eyes. The thing clearly wasn¡¯t capable of smiling, not with its beak, but the tone of voice it used was more than enough for me to know that it was enjoying my response. ¡°It has been far too long since I have interacted with a being with a willingness for measured conversation such as yourself, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± It hooted back with an undercurrent of restrained amusement. ¡°I respect your terms Cadet Emma Booker, so long as you are able to support the integrity of your words with your actions.¡± I allowed those words to sink in for a few moments. ¡°You will find that the rules of this realm, unlike that of the Nexus¡¯, are simple and straightforward. For we were established and constructed to perform one, simple, and unwavering task: to collect, organize, and preserve all forms of knowledge in perpetuum. Every aspect of our existence serves to facilitate these aims, and every rule was written with this in mind. Here you will not find the petty squabbles of the world beyond our walls, but instead, an unflinching commitment and devotion to the library and everything it stands for.¡± There was a pause, as the beady little eyes of the hundreds, if not thousands of foxes once more poked in from the dark corners of the ever shifting room. ¡°For the library is eternal, but the mortal world is not. Knowledge without preservation is meaningless, and we are the keepers of meaning.¡± A thousand voices spoke all at once, only to disappear as soon as they¡¯d appeared. ¡°Many may misconstrue our words as an explicit slight against the world beyond our walls. This couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. We wish no ill will on the worlds and realms beyond our own, for we do not care for them aside from the knowledge they may provide. This serves as the context for our first rule, one that may not concern your activities within the library but which defines the existence of the library itself. Rule number one: The library exists to serve no one but itself, but does not expressly bar anyone from entering its walls.¡± The owl hooted deeply, taking a moment to gauge my reactions, despite very much being aware that the helmet obscured anything happening beneath it. ¡°Rule number two: The library exists as a keeper of knowledge, but does not prohibit the access of said knowledge from those who seek it.¡± ¡°Rule number three: The library exists as a collector of knowledge, and encourages exchanges of any and all pieces of knowledge no matter how trivial or how significant.¡± ¡°Rule number four: The library does not exist to expedite the search of knowledge for those who seek it, with the sole exception of those who are willing to trade knowledge for this service.¡± ¡°Heh, so much for all that talk about being the great provider of knowledge to all.¡± Thalmin¡¯s gruff and grizzly voice quickly interjected, breaking the self-imposed silence he¡¯d held throughout much of this mission. ¡°This is a misunderstanding on the part of the misinformed Nexian and Adjacent Realmer masses. We exist not to provide knowledge, but merely as a repository that may be accessed. That is all.¡± The owl quickly corrected the Lupinor, before turning back to me. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Rule number five: To those that the library deems worthy, a title of patronage shall be bestowed. Amongst the privileges of patronage is the assignment of a personal assistant, and a written title of honor that shall act as a calling card for your personal assistant and myself should the patron request an expedited transaction.¡± With the rules having been laid out, and with the owl remaining eerily silent at the end of it all, I decided to get to business. ¡°At which point did the deficit start?¡± I asked plainly. ¡°At the point wherein the second line of questioning began, Cadet Emma Booker. Your first transaction was satisfactory. You entered the library requesting for a brief, succinct description of the ritual of duplicity and nulls. The compensation for the service of both information indexing and collation have since been paid. Your second line of questioning, expanding beyond the parameters of your first, was the point in which the deficit started.¡± The owl explained clearly. ¡°The first line of questioning being paid by my, ¡®mere presence here is payment enough¡¯, correct?¡± I asked the owl, directly quoting the fox¡¯s statement from earlier before. ¡°This is, indeed, correct.¡± The owl nodded once. ¡°Could I ask just how exactly my mere presence here was payment enough for information that¡¯s so clearly valuable and sensitive?¡± It was at this point that the owl¡¯s eyes widened and narrowed in rapid succession, as if in disbelief at my words, before finally resigning itself to an answer. ¡°You underestimate and undervalue your presence here, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The owl hooted out sincerely. ¡°It is no exaggeration when I say that your very being alone has been enough to fill the contents of an entire book. Why, Buddy here, now has an entire new thesis to write up based on the information he was able to gather with his inspection of your person and your armor.¡± I shot a questioning glance at the fox, who seemed to intuitively know my intent as he whimpered out a series of guilty whines. ¡°Why don¡¯t you explain what makes Cadet Emma Booker so exceptional, that her presence here is of immense value, Buddy?¡± The owl turned to Buddy who gulped nervously before speaking. ¡°From the superficial observations of the material alone¡­ the colors, textures, temperature, and sensations of the exotic metals that constitute your armor plates, to the way the fabric underneath shifts, bends, and moves; every aspect of your person, and the materials that adorn you is wholly and truly novel. It is unlike anything we have seen. It is unlike anything ever referenced within the annals of this library. It is exceedingly rare to meet a being possessing materials so novel, especially with the Nexus¡¯-¡± The owl shushed the overexcitable fox before he could continue. ¡°That is just one small aspect of the value of your mere presence here, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The owl continued, before moving to lock its gaze on my vocoder, initiating a completely unrelated tangent. ¡°Your suit, and your unique vocalizations brings me to my next point¡­ You aren¡¯t speaking High Nexian, are you, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± It uttered out confidently and with little in the way of a tone of genuine inquiry, but rather, a statement drenched in a paper-thin facade of inquiry. ¡°I don¡¯t see how any of this is relevant to the conversation-¡± ¡°Consider this the payment for the knowledge deficit thus far. Now tell me. Do you, or do you not, speak High Nexian?¡± It asked back in a sing-song fashion, complete with a dulcet hoot toward the end of that sentence. ¡°No. I do not.¡± I answered simply, succinctly, the answer to which was received with looks of genuine disbelief from the likes of Thacea and Thalmin. Both of whom seemed to be doing a complete double take of the entire situation, with the pair moving in closer to one another perhaps with the intent of discussing just what my answer entailed. ¡°How did you know?¡± I quickly retorted. ¡°Ahh, it is the manner by which you choose your words, Cadet Emma Booker. There is a¡­ mathematical precision to your manner of speech. As if there is some greater artifice powering a mechanism whose sole purpose it is to carefully and precisely pick and prod at the sum total of the Definitive Collection of the High Nexian Dictionary, processing it through the structural works of the Definitive Instruction on High Nexian Grammar Rules, and using some form of complex mathematical decision making processes to determine what words will end up where, and how it is to be structured with the precision of a mathematical formula.¡± The owl touted with an enormous sense of pride. ¡°Which leads me to believe that your words are not your own, but instead a living, breathing, dynamic system of mathematics that converts whatever language it is you speak, to High Nexian. A truly innovative, truly novel solution. Elegant, graceful, and immensely intriguing.¡± It was at this point that the owl started to sound increasingly alike to the fox, its thirst for knowledge very much seeping into how it carried itself as it sat three perched atop of the fox¡¯s head. To say that the owl was correct in its assertions would be an understatement. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought anyone from this reality would¡¯ve been able to so accurately sum up the complex machinations of the onboard translation suite, and its associated software so succinctly without the knowledge of what software even was. Instead, the owl relied on what it knew, and what it knew was clearly enough to interpret the fact the entire charade of language I was putting on, was indeed, translated. The work of thousands of leading linguists and software developers dissected each and every line of the few scraps of knowledge the Nexus had sent us prior to my arrival. The two books that we received and dissected, corresponding to the two books the owl was so quick to reference. ¡°Am I correct in my deliberation, new one?¡± The owl snapped me out of my reverie. ¡°Is my answer to your first question concerning your assertions, payment enough for the information deficit?¡± I shot back. Which once again seemed to delight the owl as it shifted its little head to and fro. ¡°Yes, yes it is, Cadet Emma Booker. You are under no obligation to confirm nor deny my second line of questioning.¡± I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts, before it finally clicked. There was still another vital piece of intel that I was critically lacking at this point. Whilst the threat of the null had been expanded upon and narrowed down, it didn¡¯t seem to include just how it was this threat was to be dealt with. I didn¡¯t know if a bullet in the head was all it needed, or whether or not I needed to whip out a flamethrower to burn it to ash. This was the perfect instance to trade for said intel. ¡°Actually, I would like to answer that question.¡± I offered. ¡°Oh? Now, for what piece of knowledge would you like to trade this for, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The owl spoke in a sing-song fashion. ¡°Nulls. Or rather, how to kill one.¡± I spoke in no uncertain terms. It was with that single line of question that yet another book was violently pulled out from the shelves, landing in front of Thacea, as the owl seemed to understand just how our group dynamics seemed to function. ¡°The dispatching of a null can take one of two distinct forms. One of brute physicality, or one of magical acumen. For the former, the application of any sufficient physical forces directed towards the core of the creature should be sufficient. Though determining where the creature¡¯s core lies will be a challenge even for the most determined of magically-deficient combatants. For the latter, the application of a Class 10 spell of disassembly or transfiguration will be necessary for the removal of the null¡¯s core; wherein sufficient force will later be applied to destroy it in its entirety.¡± Thacea once more read verbatim, her speech hitching up a bit as she went over the class of spell that was required. The book closed unexpectedly, as the owl¡¯s eyes once more locked with my own, expecting me to uphold my end of the bargain. ¡°To answer your question, yes, you¡¯re more or less right. I am using a¡­ system, one of incredibly complex mathematics to translate all being spoken to me and all being spoken from me.¡± I acknowledged, garnering a series of approving hoots from the owl. ¡°Let us consider this transaction completed, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°You¡¯re really willing to give us all of this intel just for a yes no question?¡± I shot back skeptically. ¡°The library has a vested interest in transactions which will aid in keeping its patrons alive for future transactions, Cadet Emma Booker. Which reminds me, I would like to bestow upon you, your title.¡± The owl spread its wings, and flew straight up at that. Not so much flying but instead, shooting straight up like a rocket at impossible speeds. A scant few seconds passed before it returned, holding a small rectangular card in its beak. The card was the size of your average physical ID, just slightly thicker, and made of solid gold. Reaching over to grab it from the owl¡¯s beak, I noticed the finer details that looked as if it¡¯d been laser-etched on. On it was my name, rank, and a large number of blank spaces clearly meant for the rest of my personal information. It didn¡¯t take long for me to realize just what it was. A glorified library card. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker. Henceforth you shall be known as a Patron of The Library. This is a title that carries with it immense weight and honor within these walls. Whether or not this title carries over beyond this space is none of our concern. It does, however, mean that you hold rights and privileges beyond that of the average knowledge-seeker. Should you require any additional assistance, or should you wish for any further transactions, the library shall expedite it to the best of our abilities.¡± There was a pause, as the fox eyed the owl warily for a few seconds as if to remind it of something. ¡°I would be remiss if I did not inform you that it will be well within your rights to deny this honor or reject this honor now, or at any point in time you wish.¡± The owl nodded his little head. ¡°I do hope you accept it, Emma, I¡¯m so very excited to be seeing you around for more visits!¡± The fox mewled and yipped in excitement, jumping up and down a few times as it beamed out a happy little smile, punctuated by those excitable noises entirely unique to the vulpine race. ¡°And for more belly rubs and head pats¡­¡± I tucked the card into one of the suit¡¯s pockets after giving the pair an appreciative nod. Behind me, I could see both Thacea and Thalmin¡¯s expressions shift to one of utter disbelief, perhaps at how effortlessly I¡¯d acquired the card. Whilst Thacea¡¯s face was harder to read, given the beak, Thalmin¡¯s was easy enough to discern from how he had to do a double-take at the whole scene. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have an acceptance speech prepared. But I¡¯m honored that you¡¯d consider me for such an honor. Truly, thank you.¡± I paused for a moment, my gaze trained on the owl as I decided to ask just one more question. ¡°I must ask, why aren¡¯t you asking me for the rest of the information that¡¯s been left out from the card?¡± ¡°While it is within the library¡¯s interests to collect as much in the way of knowledge as possible, the manner in which this knowledge is collected is also important to us. You are a patron, Cadet Emma Booker, it would be unbecoming of the library to hawk you for every last scrap of information. We know that one day, you shall reveal all there is to know. Whether that day is measured in weeks, months, years, decades, or centuries does not matter to us. For the library is eternal, and we are here whenever you may require our services once again.¡± There was a level of finality and confidence there that was difficult to really shake off. It truly felt like the owl wasn¡¯t just speaking with an inflated sense of ego, but instead, out of factual observation. ¡°I assume this shall be all for this visit, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Then Buddy shall lead you to the entrance hall. From there, you may exit back into your world.¡± The owl took flight, flying closer to me than ever before. ¡°Until we meet again, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Its voice echoed throughout the library, as it flew out of sight. The journey back towards the entrance took even less time this time around, as only a scant few minutes later we found ourselves once again in that forever shapeshifting room. The hallways made up of bookshelves and untold quantities of unknown paraphernalia ebbed and flowed like a particularly nausea inducing screen saver. As we were escorted out, we spotted a few other figures roaming other halls, led by their own foxes, with one figure in particular being stalled near the front entrance. A familiar blue-scaled Vunerian that was fuming in heated vitriol against yet another library fox. ¡°Do you realize who you are talking to right now, fox?! I¡¯m telling you to get your librarian here, right this instant!¡± The little thing yelled loudly, far louder than I¡¯d ever heard him yell before as the fox had only one thing to say in response. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that will not be possible. The librarian is currently preoccupied with matters far more important than your own, mortal.¡± The little thing stood firm, assertive in its place, as Ilunor continued to seethe and fume. I turned to Buddy just before we left the threshold, making a point to kneel down for a moment, in order to hold the little thing¡¯s face in between both of my hands. ¡°See you next time, Buddy!¡± I spoke, making sure it was loud enough for Ilunor to hear. ¡°Of course! Your personal library assistant shall be here, ready and willing to help whenever you return next, Emma!¡± The fox returned with an excitable yap, just as I turned to face Ilunor for a wink only I was privy to. With a few more steps we finally left the threshold and were thrust back into the real world. The roaring of the waterfall hit us first, as both Thacea and Thalmin turned to me at the same time. ¡°What now?¡± Thalmin asked with a heavy breath. ¡°Now, we head to the courtyards.¡± I turned to my onboard HUD, just to confirm that we were still on schedule for the task ahead. ¡°We have an appointment with a certain apprentice to keep.¡± Chapter 20: Drones and Diplomacy The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Library Entryway. Local Time: 1450 Hours. I always knew Thalmin was a wolf, or at least, eerily reminiscent of one. Though there was little in the way of his actions (aside from the occasional tail-wag) that really, truly, spoke to his lupine heritage. Not in the way he acted, walked, or carried himself. Not even in the way he spoke. His vocalizations had always been filtered through the translation suite without any issues, though that generally meant that a lot of his voice was more than likely lost in the process. However the software did attempt to account for this, going so far as to punctuate each and every translated word with subdued interpretations of his wolf-like vocalizations, adding a distinct personal flair to the reconstituted speech. From growls to barks and even the occasional yap, all were integrated into the translated output seamlessly and without any issue. At least, that had been the case, until now. ¡°Tatcha ti ka. Ultir nes len telrian, Emma?¡± The Lupinor mercenary prince all but barked out, and unlike before, I could actually feel the hefty bass and underlying rumbling that carried through the entirety of his speech. This was the first time I was hearing him completely unfiltered. However, this also meant that this first time I was hearing him, without actually understanding him. All of this could only mean one thing. The translation suite was borked. The mercenary prince continued to stare at me, blinking a few times, cocking his head to the side in confusion and awaiting a response that never came. It was at this point that my training kicked in hard, as I reached for my wrist-mounted data-pad, ready to plow through the diagnostics algorithm that had been seared into my head from the countless hours of field maintenance drilling. My fingers flew across the touchscreen, muscle memory kicking in as the proprietary UI was optimized for this very sort of thing: a quick and dirty debugging session that was designed to be as intuitive and as idiot-proof as possible. ¡°Latchow kusi! Ha tal, ke ney sa?¡± The wolf continued, now playfully elbowing my armored shoulder-guards, beaming out a wide smile as if trying to bridge the veritable chasm that had suddenly formed out of this inexplicable language barrier. Whatever Thalmin was trying to convey was lost on me, even though the context and the casualness of the friendly jab should¡¯ve already clued me in to what was going on. ¡°Ultir nes len telrian, Emma?¡± The wolf repeated, chuckling to himself a bit as he moved to stand beside me, proceeding to reach his arm over to drape it across my shoulders. ¡°Ultir, Emma?¡± He reiterated, before snapping his head towards Thacea, beaming out an expectant grin as if egging her on to join in on what I was quickly surmising was a joke I wasn¡¯t privy to. Thacea¡¯s reactions confirmed my suspicions, as she looked on at Thalmin with a face of incredulity, completely unamused at the wolf¡¯s antics. ¡°Now isn¡¯t the time for fun and games, Thalmin.¡± She sighed with a tone of resigned disappointment, before turning to face me. ¡°Thalmin seems to be testing the limits of what he believes to be your¡­ translation artifice, Emma. Evidently, his running theory is that speaking in a language and dialect completely separate from High Nexian would be sufficient in evading your translation artifice¡¯s ability to comprehend what is being spoken.¡± The avian explained, causing all of the undue stress and anxiety from the rapidly forming concerns over a faulty translation suite to all but fade away in an instant. Having a major complication hit us this late into the day, what with the rapidly approaching meeting with the apprentice and the weapons inspection after that, would¡¯ve been a complete disaster and a half to contend with. Forget dealing with those two sensitive issues, I doubt I could even accomplish ordering breakfast, let alone deftly navigating the unnecessarily complex social norms that were required as a basic prerequisite. Despite all of this, I couldn¡¯t help but to break out in a dry chuckle. A sly smile formed across my face as I realized just what all of this was. It was, admittedly, a sad realization. But I couldn¡¯t deny that this was the first true instance of friendly, silly banter between me and anyone else within the hostile world that was the Academy. ¡°No, no. It¡¯s quite alright Thacea¡± I replied in an uncharacteristically soft tone of voice. One that I wasn¡¯t prone to using back at home, let alone here in the Nexus of all places. Thalmin¡¯s less than amusing jabs reminded me of my own first attempts at breaking the ice when I first moved to the city. With little in the way of friends or family other than my aunt, my first go-to tactic at bridging the social gap was almost always humor, or at least my own off brand attempt at it. I¡¯d never claim that I was ever good at it, heck, it was borderline cringe. But that didn¡¯t detract from the fact that it sometimes worked, and more importantly, it was being done with genuine intent. It was an honest attempt at breaking through the awkward social barriers that just naturally existed when trying to integrate into anywhere new. This whole exchange was just Thalmin¡¯s attempt at that. Which honestly couldn¡¯t have come at a better time. ¡°See, princess. The Earthrealmer here knows how it goes with these sorts of things.¡± The lupinor beamed. ¡°I would be inclined to agree that should the recipient of a jab, one made in good faith mind you, were to be fine with the whole affair that it would be socially acceptable. However, considering the fact that we are in the midst of several altercations that must be handled with great care and caution, I find this attempt at humor to be wholly inappropriate. There is a time and place for such things, this isn¡¯t one of them.¡± Thacea directed her response at Thalmin with an air of unfiltered sincerity. ¡°There¡¯s a time and place for stoicism, princess. But sometimes, especially during the rare moments of quiet between battles, you just have to embrace levity.¡± Thalmin responded in kind, prompting me to honestly reevaluate my whole stance on the Nexus thus far. My personal perceptions and general interpretations of this place had already begun to solidify following the constant stream of crises that had targeted me one after another. Everything about the Academy, from its general vibes to its legit transgressions, was about enough for me to consider this place a complete and utter write-off; that all there was to this entire place was just one crisis to be overcome after another. And while that was true¡­ this whole exchange showed me that there was more to it than that. It gave me genuine hope that perhaps moving forward, there would be more of this banter to look forward to. More instances of nonsensical interactions amongst friends. More of just regular day-to-day life, rather than the scheming and machinations that had come to dominate most of my headspace up to this point. It was with that, that I gave the wolf a playful punt on his shoulder, not enough to induce pain or hurt, but just enough to make my point. With a little internal deliberation on whether or not I should try my own hand at his games, I decided to return the favor in my own way. ¡°Rao hen duai wa, Thalmin.¡± I spoke, saying something that loosely translated to ¡®I definitely see eye to eye with you there, Thalmin. I intentionally spoke in Thai, a language that wouldn¡¯t be picked up by the translation suite, given that it was designed explicitly for English to High Nexian translations. Whilst rusty, having only been taught by my mom¡¯s side of the family, I still knew my way around the language enough to hold a decent conversation, at least according to my aunt. Though admittedly, I didn¡¯t really have many places to practice it, given that it wasn¡¯t common across North America, and rarer still once you left the boundaries of Earth¡¯s orbital rings. Still, it was at least commonly spoken enough amongst the populations of the mainland states of the South East Asian Confederation. So I had that going for me. However, as it stood, the only real place I got any practice with it nowadays was from a certain terrifying green owl that lived only to taunt me whenever I reached to check my phone notifications. It amazed me to think that the language learning app was founded over a millennium ago, and it terrified me to imagine just how many lives it had tormented over the years. I swore the thing was more aggressive at getting me to practice than my mom ever was. ¡°Is that how you sound like, underneath the armor, and without the translation artifice?¡± Thalmin spoke, cocking his head to the side so quickly that those triangle-shaped ears flopped about as he did so. ¡°Yes, kinda. I mean, sometimes at least. I just chose to speak in a language that my translator couldn¡¯t translate to High Nexian as a way of getting back at your antics.¡± I answered, switching back to English and thus allowing my poor confused translation software to function as it was intended to. ¡°What you¡¯re hearing now is me speaking in my native tongue of English, being translated in real time to High Nexian. I could just turn it off and speak in untranslated English but that''d be too much of a hassle.¡± ¡°So you really can¡¯t speak High Nexian?¡± Thalmin doubled down. ¡°Nope.¡± I answered succinctly. ¡°Then that¡¯s two more arrows in your quiver with which you can take as a token of my ever growing collection of respect to you and your people, Emma.¡± The wolf responded with a big dumb grin on his face. His teeth were bared in a wide, almost dumb expression, which certainly gave off the intended effect to me and Thacea, but more than likely would¡¯ve caused any prey species to scurry off and cower in abject terror. ¡°Two arrows?¡± I parroted back, which garnered a reaffirming nod from the lupinor prince. ¡°Yes. Although if you ask anyone else they would say my second point is borderline heretical. The first arrow¡¯s for the obvious. The fact that your people have somehow managed to create something on par, or at least, close enough to the capabilities of a translation stone without any mana. The second? Let¡¯s just say I enjoy the fact that any time you speak, whether that be to a Nexian loyalist or an Adjacent Realm knee-bender, that you¡¯re speaking in your own tongue. Not the language of an occupying force. So anytime you speak, you¡¯re effectively defying the institutions of the Nexus, without them even knowing it.¡± The wolf chuckled. ¡°And that¡¯s music to my ears, Emma.¡± ¡°To clarify, Emma, Thalmin is bringing up the overarching unspoken expectations that come with being an adjacent realmer. That being, the expectation that every newrealmer, and the chosen candidate at that, should have spent all the time necessary in studying and becoming natively fluent with High Nexian. This entire gesture is one of the core fundamentals of demonstrating fealty to the Nexus. The fact that your people have spent just as much if not more time on circumventing the issue altogether, rather than spending the time to study High Nexian, speaks volumes to your dedication in maintaining your independence.¡± Thacea elaborated further, not necessarily outing her own political beliefs as explicitly as Thalmin had, but very much hinting at it. ¡°Honestly, the fact that your people chose the harder, impossible route of creating a translation stone without mana, just to worm your way out of speaking High Nexian is just beautiful. What this says to me is that your people would rather defy the fundamental laws of magic, than choose to bend the knee.¡± Thalmin beamed out. While the lupinor was certainly projecting, I appreciated the fact that his heart was in the right place. ¡°You¡¯re really giving me too much credit guys.¡± I chuckled back awkwardly, instinctively reaching my arm to scratch behind my back, only to bonk the two armored bits of my body together. ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s not as big of a thing as you think it is. All of this is just done out of practicality. My people needed a reliable way to make sure I was able to communicate, and so, they just did what their job entailed.¡± I replied without any hesitation. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°Modesty and humility¡­ will our permanently armored knight ever cease to play her part?¡± Thalmin replied with a teasing smirk on his face, once more patting me on the shoulder just to hammer the point home. ¡°You know, princess, if you ever needed a knight in shining armor, this one¡¯s definitely not a bad deal.¡± The mercenary prince addressed Thacea with a snicker, eliciting a nervous look of hesitancy from the avian in question. ¡°I mean, with the room assignments-¡± ¡°That¡¯s quite enough Thalmin, thank you.¡± Thacea shot the wolf down before he could continue any further. Though flustered, there clearly wasn¡¯t any bad blood present in the air. Everything felt normal, almost too eerily normal given what I¡¯d experienced thus far. And while tonally disconnected from everything else that had happened and that would eventually come, it was a welcome tangent. One that I honestly wish I could put in a bottle. ¡°So, shall we be on our way then?¡± I offered, choosing to be the one to end this little round of banter on my own terms. The wolf let out a hint of a whimper at this, but nodded anyway. Thacea, meanwhile, remained as stoic and nonplussed as ever; once more taking the lead as navigator amidst the vast unknown seas that were the Academy¡¯s maze-like halls. There was a moment there where it felt like it all clicked. Where the three of us, just by virtue of us sharing a similar sentiment of underlying non compliance, felt like we stood ready against the world. I know it was silly to say, heck it hadn¡¯t even been that long since we met, but I couldn¡¯t help but to feel an overwhelming warm fuzziness overcoming me as the fact I had allies backing me up really started to sink in. ¡°Whatever happens guys, just know I really appreciate that you guys are with me.¡± I managed out softly.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Main Garden. Local Time: 1520 Hours. Whilst Thacea was indeed an invaluable insight into both the Nexus and the Academy, it was clear that even she was not immune from the utter insanity that was the Academy¡¯s maze-like layout. Whilst the floorplan did make it seem as if the garden was a brisk ten minute walk from the library, it was clear that we didn¡¯t account for the ludicrous obstacles the Academy threw our way, as it radiated a chaotic energy that even I couldn¡¯t match. As we passed through the constantly moving staircases, evaded the untold number of wild antics that flooded some of the halls (sometimes literally) with shenanigans befitting of their own stories, and eventually landed ourselves at a massive archway that gave way to a garden that rivaled the scale and grandeur of Versailles. ¡°Right, so if memory serves, the Apprentice wanted us to track down a gardener or groundskeeper named Alaton?¡± I announced, turning to both of my peers who looked drained from the journey it took to get here. ¡°Yes, and I¡¯ve checked the faculty roster on the syllabus, individuals who aren¡¯t directly involved with teaching don¡¯t seem to be mentioned. So we effectively have no leads here.¡± Thacea explained. Thalmin let out a series of annoyed grunts as he pointed towards the massive hedge maze that lay in front of us. ¡°It seems like the Academy has even more games for us to play.¡± ¡°I mean, it can¡¯t be that hard right?¡± I shrugged. Spoiler alert, it was hard. Or rather, it would have been hard if it wasn¡¯t for a few of my friends that I liberally employed to make my life a whole lot easier. Similar to the battlefield management systems and active battlemaps synonymous that came as standard with any modern commander¡¯s complement of tools, I too was equipped with a means of ensuring I had some level of battlefield awareness even if I was lacking in a lot of the infrastructure that was normally required to set up and maintain something that complex. My suit¡¯s proprietary forward expeditionary battlefield networking and passive monitoring systems, or the FEBNPMS as the eggheads at home preferred to call it, was a scaled down version of a modern battlenet system that¡¯d allow me to observe things from a limited bird¡¯s eye view. It involved sending up a single drone, or four drones if I wanted a more complex readout of the topography, terrain, and potential OPFORs. These drones would then hover overhead, either remaining static or moving parallel to my movements on the ground, granting me a limited ¡®bubble¡¯ of battlefield awareness about 340 feet around me. This could be enhanced, augmented, or modified whichever way I deemed necessary. With more drones adding to the range, detail, or what have you. As for now, I settled on a single drone, as the disk-like device shot itself from a recessed compartment on my suit¡¯s backpack, before settling into a comfortable spot about 700 feet overhead. I wasn¡¯t here to play games, and going through a hedge maze was just about the last thing I wanted to do right now. ¡°Emma, what the hell is that? And what did you just do?¡± Thalmin asked me with yet another quizzical look in his eyes, the wolf was clearly attempting to refrain from tilting his head to the side as he had done prior. ¡°It¡¯s our way of cheating the hedge maze, and getting what we want without playing their games.¡± I spoke, as a bird¡¯s eye map was promptly added into the increasingly crowded group of picture-in-picture displays on my HUD. It only took a few seconds for me to locate our man. Or at least what I assumed was our man. The fact that he was large, burly, and scruffily dressed with dirt all over his overalls was what led me to assume that he was our man at the very least. We marched through the hedge maze with confidence, the drone above us pointing us in the right position until we ran into the man in question. As soon as we entered his little corner of the hedge maze however, he began to stand up, his height rising to such a ridiculous degree that his head actually poked out through the very tops of the hedges. It was then that I realized the drone probably wasn¡¯t necessary¡­ and that the apprentice more than likely asked us to find this groundskeeper not as a means of toying with us, but because the man was so large that he acted like a landmark you just couldn¡¯t miss. ¡°Alright then, what¡¯s all this about?¡± The lumbering giant bellowed out. ¡°Hah, I wouldn¡¯t have expected to see a knight, a princess, and a mercenary prince all in one place. This most certainly is a story for the bar counter.¡± I decided to just get straight to the point. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Apprentice-¡± I stopped in my tracks, realizing that whilst I did know her name, that I learned it from the drone and its secretly captured footage. ¡°Hah, I actually don¡¯t know her name, come to think of it.¡± I explained with a nervous laugh. ¡°She did say she¡¯d be here sometime during the afternoon? She told me to ask you where she is so-¡± ¡°Ah! Apprentice Larial!¡± The giant interjected. ¡°Yes, she¡¯s taken over a section of the hedge for herself when she became an apprentice. You know, back in my day I remember her very much having an affinity for the plant-based magical arts. So it makes sense that when she graduated and decided on continuing with her studies that she¡¯d come back here with her newfound rank and station to actually make a part of this little hedge her own! It¡¯s poetic really, and-¡± ¡°Groundskeeper Alaton, I do apologize for our brashness but we really must speak with the Apprentice post-haste. It is a matter of great urgency.¡± Thacea casually shot down the kindly giant¡¯s tirade. Which, honestly, I was thankful for. I definitely didn¡¯t want to be the one to stop the man¡¯s whole nostalgic tangent. ¡°Ah, of course princess. Just follow me, then.¡± The giant bowed deeply, before gesturing for us to follow. We went deeper into the hedge maze, and into a section that didn¡¯t seem to exist on the drone¡¯s battlenet readouts. From the drone¡¯s perspective, it looked as if we were moving into another part of the maze, only to blink out of existence. Indeed, from the air, it looked like the maze was now empty. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS With a conflicting set of parameters being beamed to it, with it still receiving my signal but unable to confirm my physical presence, the drone went into standby mode. This new section of the maze was more or less identical to the rest, except as we got deeper, the vibrancy of the flora seemed to increase as well. This all came to a head as we got to a nook in the maze, and arrived at what could only be described as a scene out of Alice in Wonderland. Sitting in a small slice of a Victorian-era gazebo was the apprentice. Her hair frazzled, with both hands currently in the process of ruffling up the rest of it. She definitely looked worse for wear than when we last met. ¡°Apprentice Larial! I have the students you mentioned earlier!¡± The giant exclaimed, which garnered the Apprentice¡¯s attention almost instantly. ¡°Ah, thank you Tiven.¡± The exhausted elf spoke with an attempt at a smile. ¡°You really mustn''t overexert yourself, Aev-, er, Apprentice. Seeing you like this worries me greatly.¡± The giant spoke with worry, which only served to boost the Apprentice¡¯s attempts at putting up a strong face. ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Tiven. Now please, I require privacy.¡± The apprentice responded, not so much a command but moreso a request. Everything I was seeing was really starting to make me question whether or not I¡¯d been too quick to judge the apprentice. I couldn¡¯t worry about that right now however. There was business to be discussed. Tell your boss I need my bomb back, Larial. Is what I wanted to say. Though at this point, I knew I had to be more diplomatic than that. ¡°Apprentice, I-¡± ¡°This is a meeting predicated on the rights of personal privilege. The prince and princess cannot be here.¡± The apprentice interjected coldly, prompting both Thacea and Thalmin to leave, and prompting me to ramp up my suit¡¯s onboard threat detection systems in response. ¡°Right, what¡¯s all this about then, newrealmer?¡± ¡°Apprentice, I¡¯ll be very forthright with you. I know for a fact that Professor Mal¡¯tory is in possession of my missing crate, and while that in and of itself is an offense in its own right, that¡¯s not what I¡¯m here for.¡± I began. ¡°If it¡¯s not false accusations being thrown around, then what is it then, Earthrealmer?¡± The apprentice shot back defensively, adjusting her posture on what was a weird combination of a wrought iron seat supported by a slither of vines. ¡°It¡¯s the fact that the crate poses a danger that none of you have the capacity of detecting.¡± I spoke plainly and without a hint of condescension or aggression. This was a matter of fact statement that threw even the apprentice off, which gave me ample time to elaborate further. ¡°I¡¯m here to warn you of the dangers posed by the tampering of my nation¡¯s property, as much as I am about the theft itself. There¡¯s a very real possibility someone will get hurt, plain and simple, apprentice.¡± ¡°If your objective is to undermine, or in this case, cast doubt upon the competence of the faculty then I¡¯m afraid your posturing will not get you far in the Academy, Emma Booker.¡± The apprentice replied as if taking genuine offense. ¡°Apprentice, please. I¡¯m not here to stir up drama for the sake of it. If lives weren''t on the line, then we wouldn¡¯t be having this conversation.¡± ¡°Emma.¡± The apprentice stood from her seat with a look of patronizing worry. ¡°It¡¯s clear to me that you come from a world of constant threats and dangers. You no longer have to worry about that here. I understand the latent anxieties that may still remain, you grew up in a savage land after all. But please, understand that you are safe here. There is no danger within the Academy.¡± The elf couldn¡¯t have known that her last few rebuttals would be forever drenched in an irony so intense, that my reports on the day¡¯s events were more than sure to be scrutinized for artistic embellishment. WARNING: [1] UNKNOWN TARGET DETECTED. The automatic IFF systems reported, meaning it picked up on something that most definitely fit the custom parameters of the high-alert threat assessment mode I¡¯d set it to earlier. TARGET REFERENCE: 230 FEET FROM CURRENT LOCATION. HIGHLIGHTING TARGET NOW. The system was designed to extrapolate upon the sensor suites built into my suit even without the aid of the drones flying overhead. It Interlayed and spliced various imaging systems onto my HUD, giving me a detailed readout of what it was I was facing down should the situation demand it. Theoretically, this meant that the entirety of the hedge garden we currently stood in was for all intents and purposes see-through, to a range of about 230 feet. I colloquially referred to it as x-ray vision. Though that was doing the sensors a disservice given just how much of the electromagnetic spectrum it was scanning through at any given time. Indeed, I could see the groundskeeper standing about 200 feet away from us at the very edges of the garden, tending to something the suit¡¯s data aggregator found too irrelevant to allocate its processing power to. At 50 feet away, in one of the inner rows of the garden were Thacea and Thalmin, currently chatting about something. All of these figures were highlighted with a glowing blue and white outline denoting their friend status on the IFF. In addition to this, a small information overlay denoted their general body plan. With everyone having been mentioned thus far marked as humanoid, as was to be expected. The new figure in question however, did not conform to this general convention. Unlike the rest of the figures highlighted, or the multitudes of creatures that the threat assessment system was programmed to identify, the unknown interloper was simply marked with a series of N/A where its general descriptor should be. The thing lingered for a while, standing still, completely unmoving. It made me think I had time to plan. ¡°EVI, analyze-¡± ALERT: TARGET TRAJECTORY CONFIRMED. TARGET APPROACHING. It made me miscalculate. 200 FEET. ¡°Apprentice, we have to go, now.¡± I shouted loudly through my vocoders, my voice shaking as the jumbled mess that was the highlighted figure got closer. The elf, as if on cue, stared at me with a concerned, perturbed expression. ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re panicking for nothing-¡± 100 FEET. ¡°THALMIN, THACEA, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, NOW! IT¡¯S HERE!¡± I yelled out through my vocoder as loud as I could, prompting the pair to scramble in place, knowing full well what the warning entailed. 20 FEET There was no time to think, no time to even react properly as muscle memory and drilling overrode diplomatic concerns right then and there. 10 FEET I reached for my sidearm, just in time to see the Apprentice¡¯s small idyllic retreat trampled over with a deafening thud. The null was here. Chapter 21: The Shot Heard Around The World ¡°Auntie Ran, what is war like?¡± That was the very first question I asked my aunt, long before I was put under her care. It was a question that would evolve over time, much to her frustration. ¡°Auntie Ran, could you please tell me what it was like to be in a real battle for the very first time?¡± The question grew more specific, more focused. As it became clear with each passing year what it was I was looking for and why. ¡°Ask me when you¡¯re older¡± She¡¯d always answer, or rather, find something to say to that effect. This back and forth lasted for months, then years, and increased the closer I got to the end of my time at high school as I was dead-set on pursuing a course that would see me entering a completely different world. At which point, my question became more of a point of proactive interest, rather than a point of passing curiosity. It¡¯d been nearly half a century since the last conflict, a series of skirmishes that could barely be considered a cohesive set of battles let alone a war. Yet it was here in these last few flickers of humanity¡¯s violent past that my aunt earned her medals and stripes. It was through her that I could learn what it was like, and what I should be prepared for should another conflict arise. Whilst at the time I was confident I¡¯d never really need that information, I was glad that I pursued it anyways, given the reality that I quickly found myself in almost immediately after I left the nest. ¡°Everyone¡¯s first is different. A boarding action is categorically as removed from an orbital drop as a combined arms push is from a limited engagement. I don¡¯t want to get into the specifics of how mine went down, because whatever battle you find yourself in will be fundamentally different. Here¡¯s a few pointers though, which I think are universal enough. One, you will feel fear, shock, and confusion or heck any combination of the three. But whatever you do, you cannot lose it. And yet here I was. About to fucking lose it. Though not in the way that my aunt more than likely intended. As out of all the scenarios I was trained for, out of every eventuality the professional overthinkers back at home had put forth for consideration, this was most assuredly not something anyone could¡¯ve ever anticipated. There certainly wasn¡¯t a time slot on the Threat Assessment and Response training blocs that included how to swiftly and safely neutralize an ever shifting mass of undulating shapeless plaster. One that bared down at me with two, amorphous black spheres that rippled with each and every blink. Its irises pulsated like a cell¡¯s nucleus under a microscope, its colors transitioned through the entire visual spectrum faster than a budding streamer¡¯s RGB setup. Its whole mass lacked a cohesive form and shape, instead looking like some sort of an upscaled amoeba, but one that needed to keep forming and reforming itself under threat of the forces of gravity forcing it back into its natural shape; what I assumed was just a puddle of blobby gray goop. ¡°Two. You will be wracked with indecision. But follow your gut, then your training, preferably in that order, and just do something.¡± My hands moved on their own, running off of muscle memory alone. It took less than a second for me to palm my gun, unlocking and removing the firearm from its magholster in one swift, uninterrupted motion. My whole arm moving fluidly as the exoskeleton frame did barely anything to compensate or augment these movements. It was pure training and instinct coming through at this point. Without a second¡¯s hesitation, and with the HUD switching instantaneously into its tactical loadout, I raised my gun towards the creature in front of me; target reticles finding it almost impossible to lock on to any specific point on the creature. As there was no preset reference data for what this creature even was, nor anything it could at least extrapolate from, save for the one very important piece of intel we just gleaned from the library. The EVI began scanning, desperately combing through every bit of sensor data it had in an attempt to isolate the supposed core hidden somewhere within the creature. TARGET IDENTIFIED. SPHEROID OBJECT, 0.12 INCHES IN DIAMETER. HIGHLIGHTING NOW. A round, distinct object highlighted in another pair of target reticles suddenly came into view, placing itself square and center on the grid-like layout that was the tactical HUD. It sat stationary on the upper ¡®shoulder¡¯ of the creature¡¯s right ¡®limb¡¯, a nondescript extension of its amorphous ¡®torso¡¯ that looked as if someone with no prior sculpting experience had tried to freestyle an arm with no reference or guidance. I shifted my aim accordingly, feeling the slight nudges from the suit¡¯s exoskeleton as it attempted to help me along by correcting minor details of my aim through purposefully overriding small little aspects of my stance, grip, and forearm placement. Taking into account the finer details of the surrounding environment and accounting for every possible environmental factor. Augmenting human marksmanship and firearms intuition with the pure, brutal, and unfeeling efficiency of mathematics. Despite all of this, for a split second there, my gaze strayed towards its eyes again; and for one brief moment I swore I could feel an intelligence locked somewhere within it. That didn¡¯t change anything though. But what happened next, definitely did. ¡°Three. Expect the unexpected, you can bash me for my cliches but this one¡¯s true. The battlefield is an unpredictable mess that every butterbar thinks they can predict and control. But it¡¯s nothing like the simulations, nor is it anything like the safe sterile environment that is training. Anything can happen. And I mean anything.¡± Anything¡­ including how my line of sight was suddenly obscured without any warning. A female figure having placed herself between me and the null. Or perhaps, from her point of view, it was probably the other way around. ¡°Altena Fisero!¡± The apprentice exclaimed with a sharp, assertive yell, followed up shortly by a localized surge in mana radiation. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 700% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS This caused the Earth beneath our feet to shake violently, before finally cracking open with a deafening crunch that sent rock, dust, dirt, and debris shooting into the air. The ground shifted upwards by a solid few feet, before promptly being brought back down with a gut twisting thump. The cracks in the Earth gave way to a dizzying army of vine-like tendrils, as well as spears fashioned from the thorny rose bushes that surrounded us. All of which slammed into the null everywhere all at once, eliciting a bassy, heart-stopping roar that all but sent the apprentice stumbling back in disorientation. It was clear why it had that effect though, as the sensors clocked it in at just about 142 decibels. The null that now more resembled a pin cushion writhed and shifted in place, stunned, but not mortally wounded. It began tugging at the vines which held it in place, parts of it that were pierced all the way through began melting and reforming, worming itself out of its binds and reforming it someplace else. ¡°Emma Booker, you must take flight, immediately!¡± The apprentice craned her head towards me, and yelled out desperately. ¡°I shall deal with this beast, this is not a place for students!¡± No sooner did the apprentice utter these warnings did the null return with an attack of its own. Having actually taken the spears for itself in one of its newly-formed fists, before turning those very implements right back at us. The attack came just as quickly, the mass of spears bound together within its fist barreling towards the apprentice¡¯s flank. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS CRACK The spears intended for the apprentice¡¯s side, instead found themselves slamming against an unseen wall. Dozens if not hundreds of the spears splintered and fractured off into a deluge of useless wooden chips. The elf was unscathed, but breathing heavily now. Her eyes glistening with a panic as it was clear to me that this was perhaps just as new to her as it was to me. A situation where all stops were pulled and the stakes were no longer a disappointing assessment or a slap on the wrist, but actual life and death. ¡°Impesis Taroni!¡± The elf yelled out again, the untranslatable mass of words being uttered with the same fervent intensity as the first time she¡¯d uttered out what I assumed to be a spoken spell. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The ground beneath us shook once again, but this time instead of a series of physical objects being flung into the null, it was the earth itself trying to envelope the creature like a ravenous hungry maw. The patch of dirt immediately beneath its blobby ¡®feet¡¯ opened up like a gaping maw, engulfing the beast all the way up to its torso, prompting it to immediately begin fighting tooth and nail to get out. This only served to aggravate the apprentice further however, as each struggle for escape was immediately countered with an increasingly aggressive set of what could only be described as concentrated bursts of mana. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 370% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A beam of brilliant blue and white light shot out from one of the apprentice¡¯s outstretched hands. It didn¡¯t resemble a stream of flames, nor was it the distinct eye-watering discharge of a plasma bolt. The closest thing I could perhaps compare it to was the discharge of a laser focusing array, except instead of being visible only under specific optics, this was visible to the naked eye. As the beam surged forward, our surroundings soon found themselves bathed in a monochromatic hue of blue. The air fizzed, crackled, and buzzed with what sounded like the distant sounds of electrical discharge. All of this came to a head as the beam finally struck the null. The attack elicited even more low-frequency roars, if only for as long as the beam was maintained. Because as soon as the apprentice had let up, as soon as she lowered her arm to inspect the damage done, the damaged parts of the null''s form simply melted and reformed, only to be replaced by more of the same gray amorphous mass. A mass that had begun to reach its tendrils in every possible direction, rapidly absorbing pieces of the lush garden it could come into contact with, and leaving the ground singed with a dark inky blackness where no biomass remained. All of this seemed to trigger an even greater aggressive resolve from the apprentice. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The apprentice struck it again. ALERT¡­ Then again. ALE¡­ Then again. I turned off the warnings at that point, as the apprentice continued her stream of attacks unabated, serving only to stall the creature as it now sat awkwardly halfway between huge chunks of rock. Its core remained so tantalizingly close, yet so far, hidden away underneath layers of thick rock and packed dirt, and away from the effective penetrating power of my gun. As I bided my time, waiting for that perfect shot. The onslaught of attacks kept the null at bay, but it wasn¡¯t exactly killing it off. It was around the seventh attack that something changed, as two figures approached the scene in a hurried sprint, just off to the side of the apprentice¡¯s vision. This development took the apprentice off guard, with her eyes now locked onto the two students, all but screwing over her situational awareness. ¡°First years, get out-!¡± ¡°Four. Most fucking importantly. Whatever you do, do not get distracted.¡± The distraction, despite being a momentary pause, was enough to spell disaster. In that split second where the apprentice¡¯s concentration broke, so too did the ground¡¯s grip on the null fail. With that momentary reprieve, the null struck back. Leaping up from its earthy prison in defiance of all the known laws of physics, and then barreling straight back down from an eye watering height. It landed about 14 feet away from where it was just trapped in the unrelenting maw of the apprentice¡¯s earthen trap. It landed¡­ right on top of the apprentice. The elf was knocked out of the fight on impact. My heart sank as I knew what had to be done next. Without a second¡¯s hesitation, and with the unknown factor that was the apprentice¡¯s magic-based attacks now completely removed from the equation, I took a step forward- ¡°Emma!¡± I heard both Thacea and Thalmin yelling out. -and fired. BANG The whole world stopped. That deafening noise meant a great many things. To me? It meant that the gun had discharged effectively, and that was that. To Thacea, Thalmin, and anyone else here? It was just a loud noise, created by unknown means by as yet unknown mechanisms. To history? This one simple discharge would be the shot heard throughout the Nexus. Heralding the death knells of a ¡°perpetual¡± regime, and acting as a prelude to the chorus of a future still yet unwritten. The age of gunpowder had finally arrived. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, as I could¡¯ve sworn I actually saw the jelly-like flesh of the null rippling as the bullet entered it completely unchallenged, before finally, striking the core with the force of more newtons than I could ever care to calculate. A brilliant flash of light shot out from the core as it was struck, cracks radiating outwards from the point of the bullet¡¯s impact. A deafening, dulcet shriek unlike any other sound it¡¯d generated up to this point, flooded the gardens. It was hurt, actually hurt. The null shifted its attention from the apprentice it now sat atop of, to me once again. But the eyes it attempted to find under my lenses were no longer one of uneasy anxiousness. They were now the eyes belonging to a soldier with a single task in mind. BANG I fired my second round, the bullet penetrating without any resistance, and once more striking the core just millimeters away from the first hit. Yet another brilliant flash of light rippled from it, followed by a dulcet, bassy howl even louder than the first. Its whole form began to shake now, as whatever fucked up inner workings that had kept it relatively solid was beginning to fail. The thing finally shifted its weight off of the apprentice, only for it to take a single step towards me. BANG And for the third round to strike on its upper right ¡®shoulder¡¯ once again. Strangely enough, the brilliant flash of light never manifested, instead, the beast¡¯s entire form had all but collapsed. In the time it took for me to register what had happened, the beast that had stood a good 9 feet in height had all but condensed. Reduced to a pile of rippling plaster that caked the darkened earth beneath it, before finally, draining off into the various cracks and crevices that had formed throughout the course of the battle. And just like that, it was over. ¡°Five. You don¡¯t really know when a battle is over. Because unlike training, there¡¯s no start or stop, there¡¯s no clock-in or clock-off time. There¡¯s no schedule blocks or timetables. The only real way to know it¡¯s over is when you¡¯re rotated out. And until then, you¡¯re never really out of the fight.¡± Or at least, I hoped it was over. I couldn¡¯t afford to waste my time on these silly little insecurities that clouded my mind however, as my sights were set upon dealing with a far more pressing issue that needed attention now. I sprinted over at full speed towards the downed apprentice. Every fiber in my being refused to believe that she could be dead. All my reservations on the woman, from the pettiness over the previous night to the blatant cover-ups just moments prior all but faded away. None of it mattered anymore. Whatever her story was, whatever kind of person she was, she was still a person. A sapient being that might have been deeply flawed, but never deserved anything like this. Especially when she¡¯d so clearly stood and fought, purposefully putting herself in the line of danger for the sake of not just her own sake, but the sake of us, the students in her ¡®care¡¯. My heart skipped a beat as I saw the state she was in, but unlike what I¡¯d assumed, my body wasn¡¯t frozen in place or wracked with indecision. Instead, my training came through and I proceeded to perform what I knew would help. Turning towards the gang, my sights immediately landed on Thacea. ¡°Thacea, get help, now!¡± That was the first step of emergency care, provided you had the option: designating someone to get help. And whilst emergency services didn¡¯t exist here, I assumed the school must have had some top notch magical healing facilities or something. Thacea immediately took flight, and zoomed off. Meanwhile Thalmin rushed towards where the null once stood, pulling out his dagger and with another burst of mana radiation, transfigured it into a full length sword. Next, I turned towards the apprentice, taking stock of her condition by first attempting to address her with an admittedly panicked series of breaths. ¡°Larial! Can you hear me? Larial, are you still with me?¡± I managed out, and in doing so I began observing all that I needed to, for the crucial assessment of this vital step; to determine if her airway was still in working order. That was the very first step in the ABCDEs of field ATLS, with the exception of the assessment of the area to determine that it was actually safe to proceed to. However, I neither had the magical acumen or the experience to really judge that right now. So I made the executive decision to proceed with the steps that had been drilled into my skull just months ago. I began fumbling with my medipack, after confirming that her airway was intact judging from her weak but audible speech, I secured her neck with an inflatable cervical collar that would keep her c-spine from deviating to prevent further injury. Before I could get any further into the later steps of the primary survey, a familiar giant hopped back into the fray, his face drained of its complexion as he set his eyes on the critically wounded apprentice. ¡°W-what are ye doin?!¡± The giant yelled out, kneeling down next to the barely conscious Larial in an attempt to push me aside. ¡°G-get outta here, now! This is beyond what you first years can handle!¡± He repeated, attempting to unlatch the cervical collar that was keeping the apprentice¡¯s c-spine safe. I wasn¡¯t having any of his crap however, as I brushed his hand aside, and locked eyes with him as best I could underneath the helmet. ¡°Shut up and listen to me. Until we get proper aid from whatever it is your guys¡¯ equivalent of an EMS is, I¡¯m going to do the best I can, understood? So stop fucking around and let me do my fricking job!¡± I yelled with an authority that came almost naturally to me, causing the giant to relent and allowing me to continue my primary survey assessments. Just as I was checking her breathing, as I was pulling out the portable pulse oximeter, did I realize I hadn¡¯t considered the finer details of multi-species medical care. I realized that I couldn¡¯t be certain whether or not the same metrics of human medical care could be applied to an entirely different species, even if they looked almost identical to humans. I didn¡¯t have time to entertain this thought however, so I moved in to pinch the device onto her finger regardless, but not before I heard what sounded eerily similar to an ambulance siren emerging from the distance, and approaching fast. I checked one of my helmet¡¯s cam-feeds to realize that the ¡®ambulance¡¯ in question was a floating carpet, a flying carpet if you will, with the source of this this ¡®ambulance-like¡¯ sound explained through presence of what could only be described as a floating set of bagpipes generating that low-to-high pitch noise. Flanking this glorified stretcher on both sides were humanoids that both wore outfits displaying a prominent symbol of what I assumed to be the Nexus¡¯ equivalent of an EMS standard. Though one of the humanoids had startled me back to my feet by virtue of what he looked like, my hand reached for my pistol out of reflex only for an observant Thacea to step in. Her feathered hand was easily detectable through the haptic feedback as she attempted to keep my hand affixed to my sides, preventing me from drawing the weapon. ¡°Relax, Emma.¡± She spoke softly. ¡°That¡¯s just a water elemental. I know they look visually similar to the beast you just vanquished, but that¡¯s just a superficial similarity.¡± She squeezed my hand tightly, as if to reinforce her point. ¡°It¡¯s over, Emma. There¡¯s no more danger.¡± My hands shook for the longest while as I looked down at the two magical healers warily, before finally, I acquiesced. Stepping back and allowing them to do their job. ¡°The apprentice was-¡± ¡°Apprentice Larial was crushed by a rampant magical creature¡± The giant interjected, stopping me in the middle of my attempt at giving the pair the proper preceding incident report. ¡°She was trying to protect the students, but it turns out that they really didn¡¯t need her protection after all.¡± The giant gestured towards me, causing my eyes to widen as I realized that this was perhaps the first time another member of the ¡®faculty¡¯ was actually trying to explain the situation in a way that was actually relatively close to reality. The water elemental leaped towards the apprentice, knelt down next to her, and raised both of its ¡®hands¡¯ above her limp form. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 250% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°She¡¯s stable, but barely.¡± The water elemental spoke, after having knelt down to examine the apprentice closer-up. ¡°Critical hypotension, and a myriad of other injuries all throughout her body from whatever did this to her. Grade IV bilateral fractures, she needs immediate repair and union, prepare the setting stones, and don¡¯t forget the intravenous and arterial stabilizing potions.¡± The elemental stood up, allowing for the other medic present to slip the magic carpet underneath the apprentice. The mass of water shifted its way towards me, eventually ending up mere feet away from me as it ¡®stared¡¯ into my visor. My whole body tensed up upon seeing this thing so close up, my mind was going into overdrive up until it gave me a deep nod. I couldn''t tell what its expression was, but its words certainly helped fill in the context gap. ¡°Good job stabilizing her spine. You know your stuff. Maybe consider practical healing when you finish your studies.¡± With that simple affirmation, the magical healer left, the pair now darting off with the apprentice in tow and hopefully with a fully kitted out medical center waiting to receive her. Even after they left, I still felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. It didn¡¯t feel like any of this was over, the calm that was supposed to follow just didn¡¯t show up. Instead, it felt like I was still constantly on edge. ¡°Everyone, I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯m looking at over here, care to take a look?¡± Thalmin yapped out, still standing over the fresh cuts in the earth. That announcement certainly didn¡¯t make things easier on my nerves, either. All three of us immediately walked over towards the wolf at his insistence, finding ourselves peering over the crevice in question. After a good few scans of the near 100 foot deep hole, it was clear exactly why he¡¯d called us over. The null, or what gelatinous-like substances remained from it, was slowly but surely draining down the various pores and root systems that existed underneath the surface. The scanner, however, couldn¡¯t detect the ¡®core¡¯ that had consistently been locked onto throughout the entirety of the battle. This could be because that final shot had all but obliterated the core. This could also be because the scanners simply couldn¡¯t penetrate that far down. ¡°I¡¯m sure it didn¡¯t just despawn.¡± I began under a series of exasperated breaths. ¡°Surely, its body has to go somewhere. I¡¯m assuming that somewhere is just¡­ wherever the path of least resistance is? That probably means it''s well on its way to whatever subterranean hole, crack, or pocket it ends up being dragged to by gravity?¡± I proposed, turning towards the group with a look of nervous unsureness. ¡°I¡¯m confident whatever foul beast that was, has been thoroughly dispatched by the combined efforts of our dear apprentice, and our daring knight.¡± The giant spoke with a hefty bout of confidence. His rumbling voice, despite its haggard undertones, still tried its best to maintain an unseasonable level of positivity and optimism. ¡°I¡¯m quite certain of it.¡± He reiterated, his eyes turning towards the last vestiges of the creature¡¯s former body as it drained away out of sight. Thacea and Thalmin¡¯s gazes remained¡­ decidedly uncertain. The princess nodded along anyways, whilst the mercenary prince seemed barely convinced enough just to sheath his blade away. With another hefty breath, and with a shift in positive undertones to one of questioning concern, the groundskeeper turned his gaze towards me in particular. ¡°What business did you kids have with the Apprentice, anywho?¡± Chapter 22: Threat... Nullified? My eyes remained transfixed on what was left of the watery goop that was once the null, as it continued to seep deeper and deeper into the porous cracks within the Earth. Out of sight. But not out of mind. ¡°EVI, replay combat footage log 1, isolate instance: last weapons discharge to target neutralization. Maximum frame rate, footage playback speed point one.¡± I kept replaying the scene. Trying to determine if I¡¯d done it correctly. Trying to see if the thing was actually dead. Rewinding and analyzing those tentative few seconds over and over and over again. Those last few milliseconds just as the bullet hit was as remarkably clear as it was frustratingly inconclusive.The bullet had struck the core, it had made impact, but because of the digital artifacting due to the dust, debris, and latent mana in the air, it wasn¡¯t clear where the core fragments went. Everything within me refused to believe the battle was over. Every fiber of every muscle within my body remained as tensed as they were when I¡¯d pulled the trigger. Why¡¯d it have to be an amorphous, magic-derived, monster? Why couldn¡¯t it be an elf, a petting-zoo-person, or some normal fricking creature. If it had been anything but the former, I could¡¯ve at least had some proof that the whole affair was over, as grisly as it might¡¯ve been. With the way things went down, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to believe the null was actually dead. It was literally right there one moment, and then gone the next. All of this just didn¡¯t feel real. Everything just felt so detached and disconnected. As it stood, I was stuck in this gray in-between. I was unable to move forward, my thoughts and anxieties fixated on registering a positive ID on my first kill, whilst both time and circumstances demanded that I just pressed on. I knew, there was no other option on the table but to keep pressing the offensive. It was just really fricking hard to do. ¡°Charlie Mike.¡± I spoke under a hushed strained breath within the confines of my helmet, addressing no one but myself. There was another elephant in the room that needed to be addressed now. Another unexpected development that necessitated that the soldier stepped back, so that the diplomat could once more come to the forefront. All of this was difficult enough to manage on its own, but when you added the vivid realities of battle still ringing in my head, it just became that much more challenging. But a challenge was exactly what I signed up for right? ¡°This your first taste of combat I reckon?¡± The groundskeeper¡¯s voice suddenly broke through my mind¡¯s haze, quickly following up his previous question with something completely unexpected. His tone of voice had shifted drastically from that questioning inquisitiveness to one with a decidedly more compassionate warmth. That followup question stumped me, especially given my prior interactions with the faculty and staff up to this point. ¡°I don¡¯t get how that¡¯s-¡± ¡°I can smell the unease from the color of your voice.¡± The giant interjected before I could fully get my thoughts out. His choice of descriptors was confusing, but I got the gist of it anyway. ¡°I¡¯m not a mindreader, just so we¡¯re clear. I¡¯m not going to act like I can make sense of the messy affair you¡¯re clearly embroiled in. But this isn¡¯t my first adventure either. So I can tell that this is the first time you¡¯ve bloodied your sword.¡± He paused, before gesturing towards my holstered sidearm. ¡°Or, well, whatever comparable saying goes for that artifice.¡± ¡°I can neither confirm nor deny-¡± The giant started to shift his weight forwards, which caused me to pause right in the middle of my hastily drawn up response, just long enough for him to continue making his point; disregarding my words altogether. ¡°Don¡¯t think you can worm your way out of this one, young knight. I¡¯m a stubborn old man, a giant to boot. And despite your strength and resolve I doubt even you can move mountains as heavy as my stubbornness. Many have tried, only a select few have succeeded.¡± The man made a point to crouch down so that he could meet me at eye-level. ¡°It would be shameful of me to treat a knight following her first battle, with the inquisitorial malice of a Judge-Executor. As much as these old bones are rattling to know more of the plots and schemes you and the apprentice are most certainly wrapped up in, I would be remiss in my honor and old oaths to place even more unnecessary burdens upon your shoulders.¡± There was an undeniable authenticity to that voice, one that was wrapped up in the wrinkled features of a venerable giant. ¡°I do not claim to be anyone but a humble groundskeeper, young one. My age speaks naught of my titles. I am not your superior, your better, your tutor, or any other title gilded in gold and ivory. With all of that being said, you may be wondering to yourself, why even converse with an old man with nothing to his name. And to answer that, I say, nothing. You are under no obligation to answer my questions, or to even converse with me for that matter.¡± He chuckled self-deprecatingly, then gestured towards Thacea and Thalmin. ¡°Those two would know, Nexus etiquette and whatnot.¡± He would¡¯ve rattled on, if it wasn¡¯t for my sudden interruption. ¡°You¡¯re right, I don¡¯t have an obligation to talk to you.¡± I stated plain and simple. This clearly sent a message to the giant, his face shifting to one of solemn acceptance. A look that was, quite worryingly, something that seemed to come naturally to him. ¡°But let¡¯s play ball anyways.¡± I quickly with a dry chuckle, making sure the giant realized that the previous statement was made out of jest. His face said it all, a look of shock, confusion, and preemptive disbelief dominating most of his worn features. ¡°I beg your pardon-?¡± ¡°Just as you¡¯re setting expectations and ground rules, so am I. I understand that the Nexus works in ways that it sees fit. However, as you can tell by my newrealmer proclivities, I¡¯m decidedly not yet accustomed to such ways.¡± I spoke with a sly wink. ¡°So with that out of the way, let¡¯s look past the¡­ what did you call it? Titles gilded in gold and ivory?¡± I parroted back, my features pushing out a confident face despite no one being able to see it, and despite the post-combat anxieties still stirring within me. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I said, didn''t I? Aye.¡± The giant replied with a renewed vigor in his features. There was something different about this guy. Something that was far removed from the bickering, posturing, and politicking of the faculty. And whilst I wasn¡¯t willing to fully entrust a complete unknown factor just yet, I was willing to try to bridge the gap, to at least gain some sort of a foothold in the form of connections within the otherwise unassailable institution that was the Academy. Even if it was ¡®just¡¯ a groundskeeper. Grassroots diplomacy, and winning over hearts and minds, was something that was also covered in my training after all. ¡°So, let¡¯s talk. Starting from the top.¡± I outstretched my right hand, which I just realized had been practically glued to my sidearm throughout this entire conversation. ¡°I¡¯m Cadet Emma Booker, United Nations Armed Forces.¡± I kept it brief, though part of me did want to try flexing the whole Patron of the Library title I now apparently held. The giant responded not with a shake of my hand as I¡¯d expected, but instead, by moving in further in order to grip deep into the upper third of my forearm; intertwining both of our arms tightly and pulling forward. His face practically beamed with excitement, as if this whole gesture was some callback to some nostalgic past. ¡°Alaton, Groundskeeper of the Transgracian Academy.¡± He kept it simple, which was a relief given the rapidly-forming repository of titles the EVI was constantly keeping tabs on. Speaking of the EVI¡¯s ever expanding library of names, the groundskeeper¡¯s introduction was decidedly lacking in a first name. The systems having logged his first name as Tiven, taken from the apprentice¡¯s back and forth with him just ten minutes earlier. ¡°I assume Alaton is your last name then?¡± I asked politely. ¡°No, it is my first name.¡± ¡°Ah, it¡¯s just, I heard the apprentice referring to you by another name-¡± ¡°That name was my last name. I no longer have the privilege to use it.¡± He spoke without much fanfare, unlocking our arms as soon as that awkward exchange had concluded. ¡°I apologize for bringing that up if that¡¯s-¡± ¡°It¡¯s quite alright. It gets brought up in conversations from time to time, but I no longer mind.¡± The giant interjected with a reassuring smile. I knew that the old man would¡¯ve gone on a new tangent, or a whole other tirade if I didn¡¯t step in direct the flow of the conversation. So I did. It was around that same time that I took stock of the countdown timer permanently affixed to the top right hand corner of my HUD. Which quickly revealed that we had just under 55 hours left. We were still on the clock, and with the null situation tentatively sorted, or so I hoped¡­ my primary focus once more shifted to that of the crate situation. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m on a bit of a tight schedule here, Alaton. So I¡¯d rather keep it brief. We have a whole year for pleasantries after all so-¡± Crunch I felt my whole body tense as all of my faculties, and my entire attention, was drawn to the source of that noise. I felt my right hand moving on its own towards the gun, out of muscle memory, and not out of the suit¡¯s insistence. It took a few seconds for me to realize however, that the sound wasn¡¯t that of an actual threat. It wasn¡¯t the prelude to a round two with the null. All it had been, as my side-facing cameras would reveal to me, was the dislodging and subsequent fall of one of the many rocks over the freshly formed crevices. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. There was no triggering of the threat alert system logged. The minimum threshold for the threat assessment system had not been reached. I was just- ¡°Are you feeling alright, Emma?¡± I heard a familiar voice piercing through my mind¡¯s sudden haze. My eyes finally strayed away from the tactical overlay, and back towards the source of that voice. I didn¡¯t need to look over to see who it was, however, as I felt the soft feathers rubbing up against my hand through the haptic feedback of my suit. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I managed out with a half-hearted confidence. ¡°I¡¯m alright, don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I reaffirmed. Partly to reassure my two peers, and partly to convince myself that everything was actually fine. The giant, to his credit, remained patient as he stepped back to give me some space. He didn¡¯t interject, didn¡¯t go off on another tangent, and simply remained crouched waiting for me to continue my end of the conversation. I decided to continue as if nothing had happened. ¡°So, considering we have an entire year to talk, I think it¡¯d be better just to get to the meat of things. Alaton, please do not take this the wrong way, I really do mean this when I say that I am sorry for what happened to the Apprentice.¡± I quickly prefaced what was to be a rather jarring topic of conversation, making sure that my sympathies and concern were made known for the record. ¡°However, the matter with which we were here to discuss has not yet concluded, and the fact remains that the apprentice is the only person I can talk to in order to achieve some form of a proper resolution to a problem that is¡­ a real and serious one. One that could result in bodily harm if left without my intervention.¡± I explained, skirting around the finer details of the crate, its contents, and everything else that might¡¯ve been too sensitive to discuss with an as-of-yet unknown player. Although the fact that I¡¯d added bodily harm into the explanation was a bit of a gamble. If this were anything like what universities were like back on Earth, I doubt that would¡¯ve really slipped by. The giant nodded along throughout the entire preamble so far, not once shrinking away at the mention of the danger I was so readily discussing. ¡°Ah. Am I to assume that this¡­ undefined threat is part of the business you had with the apprentice?¡± The man concluded. Which more or less brought us back full circle to his original question. ¡°That is correct.¡± I answered simply, not adding any further details. The giant, to his credit, didn¡¯t press the matter further. Very much honoring the promises he¡¯d set forth earlier. ¡°Alright¡­ and I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re about to ask for my assistance in arranging a meeting with the apprentice post-haste? Despite her grievous injuries, in spite of her obvious pain and suffering, and in light of her having risked her life for you?¡± The man shot back, his voice rising in intensity with each passing word. I held my ground, remaining firm and resolute even as the giant¡¯s emotions seemed to flair up for the first time. ¡°That was what I was leading to, yes.¡± I spoke plainly. The man let out a sharp exhale, before smirking, as he placed both hands on those massive crouched knees of his. ¡°Alright. Must be some damn important issue then if you¡¯re gonna be that insistent.¡± The giant had seemingly abandoned that rising intensity, which led me to believe that the whole show of defensiveness was merely a test of my resolve. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how healing works in your world, young knight. However, the Academy is nothing if not proficient at what it touts, the healing arts included. You should expect the apprentice to be sufficiently healed enough to talk by the early hours of the next dawn.¡± ¡°And can you help me arrange an audience with her-¡± ¡°I¡¯ve told you, haven''t I? I am but a simple groundskeeper. The castle¡¯s interior grounds, especially the healing center, are not places which I can tread without ample reason.¡± The man interrupted, before sharply transitioning into his next point. ¡°Besides, you still have your point of personal privilege that has yet to be resolved do you not? That¡¯s reason enough to visit her in the eyes of the Academy, as injured as she may be.¡± I nodded a few times following this, gathering my thoughts and plotting out a plan of action, if only to be rudely interrupted not by more of the giant¡¯s words but by a sharp uptick in mana radiation. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 450% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS However, instead of any danger, or the arrival of anyone new to the scene, or even a return of the null, this burst of mana radiation turned out to be signaling the start to something else entirely. The blackened ground was healing, a fresh layer of grass began covering it in a matter of seconds. The once open crevices had also begun to close up, followed by the replanting of trees and the return of the garden to its original state. With the only parties present being the likes of Thacea, Thalmin, and myself, it was clear who was responsible for this, as the groundskeeper stood up, and began observing handiwork. A million thoughts entered my head all at once. Everything I learned about this reality, at least as it pertained to the exclusivity of magic, was all put into question by this one act. ¡°Alaton, I thought magic was something only the nobility could use?¡± I asked. ¡°Aye, that is generally how it goes, yes.¡± He answered cryptically. ¡°Then are you-¡± ¡°I claim to be nothing but a humble groundskeeper, young knight. Now, I believe this is as good a time as any to retire for the evening.¡± That line of questioning was clearly hitting a brick wall, then again, this wasn¡¯t the time or place to pursue tangential concerns. ¡°Thank you, for all your help thus far, Alaton.¡± I corrected my course, which was received by a single appreciative nod from the groundskeeper. ¡°I am sorry for what happened to the apprentice. This entire situation wasn¡¯t something that I think any of us could¡¯ve anticipated.¡± The irony in that statement was not lost on me. The man acknowledged my efforts at consolation with a weaker nod, which I interpreted as our cue to leave. So, without any further words exchanged, we departed. Upon exiting the immediate ¡®bubble¡¯ surrounding the apprentice¡¯s hideaway, I was shocked to see that practically nothing had changed. What should¡¯ve been something reminiscent of a warzone instead looked just as pristine as the moment I¡¯d entered it. Whatever illusionary spell had been cast here, had completely hidden away the collateral damage caused by the fight and anything else within its area of effect. Which led me to the unnerving conclusion that the entire fight had more than likely been completely hidden from the public eye, as from the outside, all there was to see was but an unassuming part of a greater expanse of hedge mazes and shrubbery. The drone that had been automatically placed on standby mode prior to my entry into the apprentice¡¯s hideaway had registered my return the moment I¡¯d left it. Without any prompting, it zipped back over to me, before aggressively shoving itself back into its anchor point with a loud metallic CLUNK. This seemed to bother my avian and lupine friends to such an extent that they refused to address it. Though their bewildered expressions were definitely more than enough for me to work with.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower Dormitories. Local Time: 1600 Hours. The trip back to the dorms was a quiet, almost peaceful affair. Not one of us broke the silence, instead allowing the ambiance of the Academy to take over, and in doing so hammering home just how alive this place actually was. As our journey from the library to the gardens had proven, these storied halls of ancient stone and marble were probably just as animated as they were the day they were first laid. From students of varying year groups walking about, to the occasional run-ins with familiar faces cataloged and put to storage by the suit¡¯s visual identifier, the halls never once felt empty. Which helped the situation somewhat as it allowed my mind some much needed distractions in the form of visual stimuli, to ease it down from a state of hyperacute alertness. It was difficult to imagine that just moments ago, just a few hundred feet from these halls, that a life and death struggle with a near mythical creature had just taken place. And all were none the wiser as to its very existence. To say that thought was jarring wouldn¡¯t even cut it.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 1620 Hours. I never thought I¡¯d say this, but upon returning to the dorms, I immediately felt a sense of relief washing over me. It was like we¡¯d just entered a small private bubble, a respite from all of the Academy¡¯s bullshit. Indeed, as much as the library was definitely on the top of my priority list when it came to a potential second home base, the dorms just felt like a more solid base of operations. It could just be the vibes. It could also be because I¡¯d already set up my FOB here. Along with all of the various systems and subsystems necessary to keep me alive. Yeah, that more than likely played a contributing factor, more so than the vibes. The late afternoon had long since passed, now transitioning into a sort of evening twilight, bathing most of the ¡®living room¡¯ in this brilliant display of soft autumnal oranges. The view offered by the dorms from this vantage point was nothing short of breathtaking, giving me more of those 90th district penthouse vibes, as the stunning view offered an uncompromising vista of what was effectively nothing but forests and rolling hills in every possible direction. It was rare to find a place on Earth that could capture this sort of feeling, a strange dichotomy of modern high-rise views of what was ostensibly an untouched nature reserve. The 90th district came to mind however, being just on the edges of a particularly anomalous corner of the Acela Corridor. Trapped between four jurisdictions, and with overlapping zones of control, it was a rare slice of the city, jutting into the suburbs, then emerging on the other side on the very outer reaches of zonable land. As a result, it became the only little slice of downtown with all of its views and amenities, overlooking part of the greater North Eastern nature reserves. I¡¯d visited the district before. In fact, any Acelan local worth their mettle would¡¯ve made the pilgrimage at least once in their lives. There really wasn¡¯t any reason not to, given how the rapid rail service got you in and out of there in less than half an hour. Regardless, the view from the Academy did remind me of that, and it was honestly a little slice of beauty in what was so far a stress-ridden reality. ¡°-and the lizard isn¡¯t even back yet. How typical of him.¡± I heard Thalmin finishing some long winded rant, probably in regards to the absence of a certain blue Vunerian. It was clear that I zoned out for a bit there, as I now found myself in the midst of a conversation I didn¡¯t recall hearing the start of. ¡°We should touch base with Ilunor when he returns. It is important that the entire peer group is on the same page with regards to our current¡­ dare I say it, questline.¡± Thacea sighed with a level of frustration that I very much could relate to at this point in time. ¡°That¡¯s a good way of putting it, Princess. We¡¯ve since departed from this being a series of disconnected little plots, and for better or for worse, entered the realm of active questing. That fight with the null being the point of no return.¡± Thalmin nodded several times over, with a clear level of excitement that Thacea seemed visually peeved at. ¡°Speaking of Emma, you feeling alright there?¡± Thalmin now shifted the direction of the conversation back to me, as his tone transitioned to one of concern. A sentiment likewise mirrored by Thacea. ¡°Emma, please know that if you wish to recuperate and rest your wings, that you are free to do so.¡± The princess spoke with a softening of her striking gaze. ¡°We can both keep watch if you wish to rotate out for a few hours, Emma.¡± Thalmin reiterated this general sentiment of support with a cocksure grin. ¡°We¡¯ll make certain you¡¯re watched over.¡± There was a genuine kindness and compassion there that should¡¯ve taken me by surprise, but at this point, felt increasingly more like a natural extension of our rapidly forming alliance. There was a comfort in their reassurances, as the solo-mission narrative I¡¯d been training for and internalizing had always given me pause as to not only my ability to cope with the social ramifications of isolation, but likewise the security concerns that also came with it. The chances for survival and success fell squarely on me and my equipment when I came through that portal. With things the way they were, with threats and complications cropping up and scaling in both frequency and intensity, the pressure had undeniably begun to stack. Whilst I could withstand it alone, it would be a lie to say that having allies willing to share some of that burden wasn¡¯t welcome. In fact, it was nothing short of a godsend. ¡°Thanks guys.¡± I turned to face the pair with a relieved, thankful expression underneath my helmet. Not even the armor could dampen that very human sentiment, that feeling of relief and security brought on by being amongst friends. Humanity has, and always will be, a species that thrives on social cooperation. Collective security being one of the many perks of teamwork and trust. It just so happens that now, for the first time ever, that social cooperation has transcended the species boundary. ¡°But I don¡¯t think now is the time for rest. I¡¯m still on the clock for the weapons inspection, not to mention the whole crate situation.¡± I admitted with a resolute sigh. Thacea seemed to have something to add to this, something to perhaps reiterate her support. However, before she could even chirp out a word, Thalmin unceremoniously butted in with his own little agenda. ¡°Speaking of that weapons inspection¡­¡± Thalmin interjected, perhaps too eagerly coming hot off the heels of concern for my well being. ¡°Seeing as you¡¯re still adamant about seeing your rotation through¡­¡± His eyes shifted towards my hip, landing on my sidearm as his tail slowly but surely began to wag from side to side. ¡°Could you please give us a little preview of that inspection?¡± The eagerness in his voice was off the charts now, as I moved about in place and once again palmed my pistol. ¡°I guess that¡¯s only fair.¡± I acquiesced. ¡°Ask away, cowboy.¡± Chapter 23: Its Like a Crossbow, but Better. ¡°So, does that weapon of yours have a name?¡± The wolf inquired with unrestrained enthusiasm. If his voice didn''t already give it away, then the ferocious wagging of his tail most certainly did. ¡°There¡¯s¡­ a lot of nomenclature involved, but for the purposes of this conversation I¡¯ll try to keep it brief. We call it a gun, Thalmin.¡± The gun. A tool as varied in complexity as the problems it was designed to solve. An answer to a question that has been asked in a thousand different languages, over a thousand different ways, across a thousand different eras. A question that ultimately boiled down to a single, simple, sentence: What is the most effective way to kill? For most of human history, and the Nexus it seems, the answer was almost always reliant on solutions as simple and as limiting as the hands that gripped them. From the club to the blade and the spear to the polearm, strength and skill had proven itself time and time again as the only reliable means to achieving this deceptively simple end. Acting as the indisputable limiting factor to any who attempted to answer this age old question. This placed a hard limit on things. Most notably, it restricted scalability and accessibility. Civilization, however, wasn¡¯t ever content on leaving a question of such importance answered so half-heartedly. The Nexus seemed to stumble upon a better answer to this question by virtue of their inherent gifts, extending their effective reach, and embracing the natural advantage afforded to them in the form of mana manipulation. Humanity, however, wasn¡¯t so fortunate. We didn¡¯t have the ability to summon lightning, earthquakes, and magic missiles right out of the gate. We didn¡¯t have the privilege of evolving a second, unseen set of limbs through which to manipulate the world around us in ways previously inconceivable. All we had to our name was a set of two gangly hands, ending in those five, blunted, wiry digits. But that didn¡¯t stop us. In fact, it was those very ¡®limitations¡¯ that forced us to think outside the box. As what we lacked in claws, in fangs, in venom, or in magics, we made up for in deductive reasoning and innovation. For all it took was a simple mix of chemistry and metallurgy for the tides to truly shift, and by the advent of industry, that shifting tide had all but become an unassailable wave leading to nearly two millennia worth of further refinements and unprecedented advancements. Two millennia, that saw us starting off with bamboo tubes with some spicy powder, before arriving at fifth generation composalite with a veritable buffet of chemical propellants and magnetic accelerants to choose from. Although unlike the Nexus, what we had wasn¡¯t a force multiplier exclusive to a select few, nor one that was gatekept behind ancient tomes and hidden spells. What we had was a weapon. One that only took two hands, a good eye, some bullets, and a tempered resolve to wield. A weapon that with a single squeeze of a trigger, was capable of bringing forth to the table a destructive potential once locked behind decades of training and practice. A weapon which was capable of bringing that same destructive potential to bear consistently and without fail, until you ran out of bullets or resolve. This weapon wasn¡¯t rare, either. It wasn¡¯t locked away in a far flung tower to be handed and gifted to adventurers daring and brave enough to make the long, perilous journey. Nor was it talked about under hushed breaths within the dark corners of taverns or the deepest depths of a scholar¡¯s study. It was as common, or perhaps even more common, than your average spear. It was so ubiquitous that there were, at the present era, enough of them to arm every single human currently alive more than a hundred times over. Humanity, with all of its so-called ¡®shortcomings¡¯ with a lack of magic, mana, or other such natural ¡®gifts¡¯, had answered this age-old question with the ultimate testament to its indomitable resolve. A resolve which was only satisfied so long as the envelope kept being pushed. To forever address and re-address all of life¡¯s questions, especially the ones that were so crucial to its continued survival. To do anything but innovate, to be satisfied with the current standard, was to invite stagnation to begin its inevitable creep. ¡°So, what would you like to know about guns?¡± I asked Thalmin with an excitable grin underneath my helmet, the wave of underlying anxiousness that had lingered from the battle being supplanted somewhat by this new hyperfixation. A part of me knew this was a temporary distraction from the uneasy feeling still welling within my gut, but another part of me knew there was no point in allowing it to eat at me more than it already had. Or, at least that¡¯s what I told myself. ¡°Well first off-¡± ¡°Can we see it?¡± Thacea, surprisingly, interjected with a great deal of apprehension, cutting off Thalmin before he could even finish his sentence. Both Thalmin and I turned to face each other in a small bout of disbelief, but just as quickly turned back to Thacea with a toothy grin on both of our respective faces. The avian, however, didn¡¯t seem to share in either of our enthusiastic spirits. We made our way over to the sofas and lounge chairs, set against the backdrop of the deep orange rays of the dwindling sunlight. It was here that I once more found myself palming my holster, and the magnetic locks that kept my sidearm virtually impossible to rip from my side. The only real way of doing so would be to disable the suit¡¯s power supply, which really did give a whole new meaning to prying it from my cold dead hands. ¡°Alright.¡± I spoke to no one in particular as I flicked open the maglocks, only for my heart to flutter. This¡­ wasn¡¯t the fluttering of excitement, however. I knew how that felt, and this wasn¡¯t it. It took me a second to recompose myself before I realized what it was, as that uneasy feeling of gut-churning vertigo came back with a vengeance only to disappear again as soon as it began. My breath hitched for a moment, my shaky hands taking a second to steady themselves. My mind didn¡¯t immediately register it, but the feeling was undeniably similar to when I¡¯d first unlocked the pistol from my side back in the gardens. I refused to let it get to me however. It was literally just one engagement, I was fine. Resuming the motions that had all but been drilled into muscle memory by this point, I pulled out the gun in a single swift motion, the weapon¡¯s safeties automatically set by default as paired with the suit¡¯s current threat alert status. As expected, both Thacea and Thalmin¡¯s gazes were utterly transfixed by the decidedly simple weapon held firmly in my hand. Though it was clear to me that it wasn¡¯t its design or ornamentation that caught their eye, but the raw destructive potential it held within such a small, compact, and unassuming form. They¡¯d seen what it was capable of after all. They knew it could kill. And it was clear from Thacea¡¯s piercing gaze that she was trying to dissect it, even before I started explaining anything. With Thacea seemingly caught in a trance, it was Thalmin who broke the awed silence with a question I thought I could anticipate coming from a mile away. Emphasis on the thought part. ¡°Well, two observations first and foremost. One, that¡¯s a very unassuming name for such an impressive weapon. Two, that¡¯s a very bland and frankly, uninspired design for such an impressive weapon. All of this leads me to believe that the people of your realm do not know the ways of the aesthetic arts as it applies to weapons crafting and design.¡± The lupinor mercenary prince had put his all into roasting my gun. So unexpected was this response that I was caught completely off guard. Though it was clear by the tone of his voice, and by the exaggerated expressions on his lupine face, that this was more a facetious jab than anything. ¡°And I like it that way.¡± The prince quickly added with a sly smirk. ¡°Flashiness does not a good weapon make.¡± He spoke resolutely. ¡°I know a good weapon when I see one. A masterfully crafted blade and a mana-imbued artifice, needs only speak for itself in the heat of battle. I judge a good weapon the same way I judge a soldier¡¯s character: by their actions and not their boisterous displays. The moment a weapon attempts to speak outside of its intended role, is the moment that weapon loses all pretenses of its original purpose, relegating it to becoming more of a decorative piece than a functional tool. The design of a weapon ultimately speaks volumes to the values of its people of origin. Which in your case Emma¡­ means that my respect for your people yet again grows stronger.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to feel the inklings of a grin forming across my face at the lupinor prince¡¯s bait-and-switch. ¡°Well Thalmin, if you think this thing is bland, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯d make of some of the ergonomic monstrosities some of the psychos back at home had come up with over the years.¡± I chuckled, my whole body shuddering at the thought of some of the freak designs humanity had come up with over the millennium. ¡°Compared to what¡¯s being passed off as standard issue nowadays, this thing is borderline art.¡± I spoke off handedly, which seemed to catch Thacea¡¯s attention, but not enough to elicit any questions or comments just yet as she merely looked on with that same apprehensive look of dread. Thalmin, however, seemed content enough to continue with an unrestrained bout of enthusiasm. ¡°Let¡¯s leave that discussion for another day, for now, I want to know just how this gun of yours works, Emma. I think that''s what we''re both dying to hear!¡± The Lupinor¡¯s eyes met my own, giving me a look that could best be described as a cross between the ravenous hunger of a fully-fledged predator and a half-grown pup¡¯s insistence on begging for seconds. It was clear we were beating around the bush up to this point, so I made no further pretenses in delaying the inevitable, as I placed my gun on the table for both to clearly see. ¡°You can look, but just don¡¯t touch it.¡± I warned, taking stock of the ravenous gaze of the mercenary prince as I did so. ¡°I¡¯m serious. I apologize if I might come across as patronizing when I say this: but this is a weapon, and where I come from, there¡¯s an expectation of level-headed awareness and respect that must be observed when handling any weapon. Especially guns.¡± Thalmin¡¯s expressions changed somewhat, whilst still very much ravenous to learn, his gaze shifted towards something of a more reserved one. As if that explanation had triggered something else in his mind. ¡°The sign of a good warrior lies in the respect for their weapon, this extends beyond its use and maintenance, to its treatment within contexts not bound to the scope of battle. I understand your caution, Emma, and I respect it. Please, proceed.¡± ¡°There¡¯s¡­ a lot to unpack.¡± I began with a deep breath. ¡°It¡¯s been two thousand years since the inception of the gun, and a great deal has changed over that course of time. It would be a lie to say that some fundamentals haven¡¯t changed either. But I¡¯ll try my best to break it down. What you see in front of you is a specific class of gun that falls into an overarching category we refer to as kinetic-based weapons systems, or KWS¡¯ for short.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°I¡¯m starting to see that your culture seems to have a rather unhealthy affinity for abbreviations, Emma. Dare I say it, it¡¯s almost as if you abhor long-winded titles, yet still desire to maintain it in your own convoluted ways.¡± Thalmin briefly interrupted with a dry chuckle, before raising a single hand for me to continue; that one gesture was perhaps the closest he got to living up to his noble heritage thus far. Well, he isn¡¯t wrong¡­ I thought to myself, before moving onward just as swiftly. ¡°At its core, KWS¡¯ work by accelerating a solid-state projectile at high velocities towards its intended target. The end goal, as you can imagine, is usually to inflict damage through penetration for the purposes of neutralization.¡± ¡°Like a bow or a crossbow?¡± Thalmin interjected once more, this time however it was done in a clear attempt to understand, as he attempted to tie the concept to something he had some familiarity with. ¡°Fundamentally, yes. They both accelerate a solid-state object towards a target. However, there¡¯s a component of that description that places bows, crossbows, and any mechanically-charged weapon into its own sub-category.¡± ¡°That component being?¡± ¡°The fact that contemporary KWS¡¯ are defined by the accelerant component being anything other than mechanical. And by mechanical, I mean a user¡¯s strength. The draw of a bowstring, the cranking of a crossbow¡¯s winches, all of that qualifies as mechanical-charging as it relies on the user putting in the energy to fire the projectile forwards. In effect, any kinetic weapon which relies on the direct or compound translation of physical strength to kinetic energy, is no longer really utilized and so isn¡¯t classified as a contemporary KWS.¡± I explained as best I could, which led to more questions on the part of the lupinor. ¡°You¡¯re speaking as if you¡¯re leading up to an explanation that involves mana.¡± The mercenary prince spoke bluntly. ¡°If it isn¡¯t for, in your words, mechanical charging, then what other method is there to propel a projectile forwards? It¡¯s at this point that I¡¯d expect a Nexian mage to come in to enlighten us on the wonders of mana-imbued weaponry. But-¡± The lupinor prince paused for effect, as if to emphasize the point he was making. ¡°I understand that mana is dangerous and entirely unheard of in your realm. So, and this is not my attempt to sound like Ilunor-¡± He leaned in forwards, his eyes practically inches away from the gun at this point. ¡°-pray tell, what exactly is causing this hidden projectile to surge forwards at speeds reserved only for the mana-imbued weapons of the Nexian outer guards?¡± The wolf was very much animated at this point, his tonality, his expressions, everything about him was trying desperately to understand a weapon so far removed from his reality. Which gave me pause as Thacea seemed to be doing the exact opposite, as she sat there, completely unflinching, her eyes still glued to the weapon sitting idly on the wooden coffee table. ¡°You¡¯re right, Thalmin.¡± I acknowledge the wolf¡¯s assertions with a single nod. ¡°There¡¯s no mana involved. In fact, I think you could tell by the lack of any ¡®mana-fields¡¯ around it when idle and in use.¡± I shuddered as my mind went back to the battle for the split second, only for me to force those images out of my head as quickly as they¡¯d apparated. ¡°All that¡¯s involved is a clever manipulation of the laws of the natural world, and a game of trial and error that stretches back over two thousand years.¡± I decided that the best way to move forward, the best way to truly hammer home the core fundamentals of how the gun worked was by visually demonstrating it. Without the actual discharge aspect of it of course. I removed the gun¡¯s ¡®magazine¡¯, placing it butt first on the table, as I palmed one of the few physical indents on the device, releasing just one of the immaculately-packaged ¡®rounds¡¯ that would¡¯ve seemed entirely foreign to anyone born prior to the 25th century. Advancements in material sciences, applied chemistry, and in the reliability of military-grade electronics, coupled with centuries of aggregated datasets across hundreds of wars had made what was once a fragile and expensive novelty into something that had now all but phased out the traditional firearm. This shift was subtle, adoption having been staggered, until a certain point where it all seemed to happen at once; akin to any other paradigm shift in human technology. Caseless became the standard, electronic firing mechanisms and electrothermal-chemical technologies supplanted traditional mechanical actions, barring a few exceptional circumstances. This mission, almost being one of them. ¡°This.¡± I held the ¡®round¡¯ between my fingers, pinching what amounted to a rectangular pellet that looked as if it¡¯d come straight out of a stack of those hi-chew candies. ¡°Is both the projectile, and what we call the ¡®propellant¡¯, basically the stuff that allows the projectile to be pushed forwards.¡± I started simply, before I began pointing at the aforementioned parts which made up the cartridge. ¡°Whilst its design has changed over the years, the fundamental principles have remained more or less the same. You ignite the propellant, causing a controlled explosion, which pushes the projectile forward.¡± I explained succinctly, yet still felt as if I¡¯d let down over two thousand years of ballistics experts and gun enthusiasts alike. Having reduced their lives¡¯ works and passions into a single, simplified sentence. It was at this point that Thalmin¡¯s expressions began to shift. His excitement had become restrained, his perky ears remained as they were, but seemed tense as they refused to flutter about as they usually did with every cock of his head. Something started to click inside of the wolf, as his questions began reflecting his newfound understanding of the terrifying weapon sat benignly in front of him. ¡°So if I¡¯m to understand this correctly.¡± He began, his voice retaining its curiosity, but with its excitement dampening down towards a more reserved one of concern. ¡°That small little-¡± ¡°Cartridge.¡± I quickly added. ¡°-Cartridge.¡± The wolf mimed back, before continuing. ¡°Barely the size of one quarter of my finger, is what killed the null?!¡± His voice shook, not in fear, but moreso in disbelief. ¡°Well, yes, the bullet did. Which, given current technologies, is what makes up most of the cartridge nowadays.¡± I attempted to explain. This would be the perfect time to slip in the I bought the whole bullet, and I intend on using the WHOLE bullet joke. But I knew this wasn¡¯t the time or the place for it. ¡°Right.¡± The wolf nodded several times over, though still looked as if he was somewhat lost. ¡°I think I get it-¡± ¡°What Emma means is that a single cartridge contains both the projectile and the accelerator. The projectile takes a portion of the weight and size, and by the same logic, the accelerator, be it a powder, a solid, or what have you, must also share that same space. That¡¯s why a point was made in order to delineate between the bullet and the rest of the cartridge.¡± Thacea blurted out in a string of words that carried with it a heaviness of intense realization that mimicked the shock and awe from our discussions regarding the nature of human technologies the previous night. It was honestly quite jarring hearing the explanation coming out of the avian¡¯s beak, given that everything she said was entirely accurate, at least to the extent of what I¡¯d divulged thus far. This meant that she¡¯d sat there, absorbing every last scrap of information, without misunderstanding a single beat. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ all entirely accurate, princess.¡± I reaffirmed, my tone of voice clearly relaying just how impressed I was from the avian¡¯s deductive reasoning skills. With that being said, it wasn¡¯t surprising that Thacea temporarily took the reins of the conversation over from Thalmin as her piercing gaze now landed on the gun and the cartridge I held between my fingers. ¡°To delve deeper into the specifics of this weapon¡­ am I correct in assuming that these cartridges are single-use?¡± ¡°When discussing this specific type of cartridge, yes.¡± I answered simply, which seemed to elicit a slight twitch of the avian¡¯s feathers. ¡°And am I correct in assuming that there exists some complex¡­ mana-less mechanism by which this propellant is ignited?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a given for all guns, but the complexity really depends on the specific system each model uses.¡± There was a sudden pause as Thacea seemed to be taking everything in. Her eyes never once deviating from its fixated gaze on the cartridge I still held between my fingers. ¡°Emma, if you¡¯ll allow me to begin another line of questioning, I would like to inquire further into the specifics behind the implications of your statements regarding this weapon¡¯s model.¡± Thacea began, before diving deep. ¡°The existence of models implies other competing smithies with similar weapons. However, the nature of this weapon seems to be so very¡­ precise. It seems more akin to a hyper specialized artifice, one which a team of leading blacksmiths would find challenging to make, let alone a competing number of smithies. This is not to mention how I am being led to believe that this weapon is being utilized en masse, given your mentioning of this particular model being a standard issued weapon. Which brings me to my next point¡­¡± The avian took a deep, sharp breath. ¡°Emma, are you implying that this model of weapon, and others like it, are the standard weapon-of-carry for the soldiers of your realm?¡± It was clear to me now what had been gnawing at the princess throughout this entire conversation. And it was clear that only one answer would address this gnawing anxiety, as I took a deep breath in before responding simply, and bluntly. ¡°Yes.¡± The color from the pair¡¯s faces had all but been drained at that answer. Or at least, I assumed that was what the puffing up of Thacea¡¯s feathers and the deep sullen whine from Thalmin meant. It was with this revelation that Thalmin had firmly placed his entire muzzle into the crook of his hands. I could see his pupils dilating, his leg starting to shake in place, as the ramifications of this revelation started to sink in. ¡°Every soldier¡¯s a battlemage.¡± He spoke under hushed breaths to himself. ¡°Correction, every soldier equipped with outer-guard grade enchanted equipment and near-tier artificed weaponry.¡± Thacea quickly added in a series of deep, resonant coos. ¡°What¡­ what of swords? Surely your people couldn¡¯t have just done away with melee combat.¡± The wolf continued to mutter out, his mind clearly going through the wringer as he tried to visualize a whole world, an entire realm, armed with the same ranged weapons. ¡°What sort of combat is fought when everyone fights on the same playing field as a Nexian Outer-Guardsman? I can¡¯t even begin to visualize¡­¡± The wolf trailed off, which prompted Thacea to take his place. The poor wolf clearly began entering a series of internalized crises as the avian spoke. ¡°The only limiting factor I see is that this weapon, unlike swords and enchanted armaments, is rendered entirely useless without these cartridges.¡± The avian deduced. ¡°To deploy an army armed exclusively with such weapons must require an immense number of these cartridges, which leads me to the disturbing thought of a society that places an inordinate amount of time, effort, energy, on such an esoteric fixation.¡± The avian turned to face me now, piercing eyes of genuine concern and disbelief meeting my own. As if to ask me by virtue of this one question if humanity was actually sane. ¡°But we do¡­ and all I can tell you right now is that we have more than enough to supply our armies for decades-long campaigns if we needed to, and that¡¯s just the active stores.¡± ¡°But why?¡± Thacea snapped back. ¡°Because we have no other choice.¡± I expressed emphatically. ¡°We weren¡¯t born with the advantages afforded to everyone else. We weren¡¯t magically imbued with the ability to fly, to summon lightning, to crack open the earth with a single glance, but we always wanted to, and so we did. And when I say we didn¡¯t have a choice, I don¡¯t mean that this was done out of desperation, but rather, out of a natural extension of our developmental trajectory. The state of affairs we find ourselves in is a direct result of a society that thrives on continued innovation out of necessity and in response to new, unprecedented challenges. This has always been the case with humankind, and it continues to be the case as we press onward.¡± Another silence descended on the room after I¡¯d made my case. A silence which emphasized the sheer dread on the pair¡¯s faces as they both slowly came to terms with these series of earth-shattering revelations on their own terms. ¡°I¡¯d say you pressed onwards in a way that far superseded what anyone could¡¯ve ever expected from a mana-less civilization, Emma.¡± Thalmin turned to me with a tired, exasperated smile. As if trying to mask the growing level of apprehension still welling within him. I shrugged, all the while trying to make sure I was still forcing out a more amenable tone of voice. ¡°It¡¯s the only way we know how to press on.¡± ¡°Well for your sakes, and for your realm¡¯s sakes, and for the sake of all those who have yet to have bent under the weight of the Nexus¡¯ yoke¡­ I hope you don¡¯t stop.¡± Thalmin¡¯s tone slowly entered one of a confident sincerity. It was clear what he was hinting at, as difficult as it was for him to really put it into words. That fiery zeal of resistance, that open discontent with the Nexus, there was only one thing he could be hinting at with that brazen statement. ¡°We have no intent on changing our direction or momentum anytime soon.¡± I shot back with a confident nod. ¡°With all of that being said¡­ you need some rest, Emma.¡± Thacea urged, gesturing towards the rapidly setting sun as she did so. ¡°But, I need to head over to the weapons inspection-¡± ¡°We can¡¯t afford you to crash at the weapons inspection, Emma. We need you in tip top shape, so come on, it¡¯s time to rotate out.¡± Thalmin urged with a toothy grin of reassurance. ¡°Like we said, Emma. We¡¯ll watch over you while you rest.¡± Thacea quickly added. ¡°Besides! There¡¯s a good¡­¡± Thalmin paused, reaching over to grab what looked to be a similar variant of the pocket watch I saw Thacea pulling out earlier in the dining hall. ¡°Four? Five hours to rest before the night¡¯s end?¡± I let out a massive sigh as I regarded the pair with weary, worn out eyes. Who was I kidding, I fucking needed the sleep. ¡°Alright, I think I¡¯ll catch three or four hours of shuteye.¡± I managed out through a yawn. ¡°Should give me about an hour for the weapons inspection.¡± With a group sentiment of agreement, I began walking off, my sights set on the tent, and the cold hard flexible composite floor that called my name. Chapter 24: A Birds-Eye View Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 1700 Hours. Thacea Perpetuity. That was what the Nexus stood for, what it sought after, and what it fought for. In its quest to ensure the continuity of civilization, it had reasoned that all civilizations fell under its enlightened protection. Protection not from any outside power, nor any external existential threat, but from the dangers inherent within civilization itself. Dynamicity. That was what the Aetheronrealm had always embodied. A stark antithesis to the Nexus¡¯ stringent beliefs and unwavering convictions. In more ways than one, my home realm had always been an outlier prior to the Nexian reformations, as it defied all known Nexian expectations on what an Adjacent Realm should have been. For instead of a series of disconnected fiefdoms trapped within a single continent, the Nexus discovered my kind spanning the breadth of our entire world. Instead of a disjointed and poorly connected peoples, they found a species united in a shared language, shared faith, and a deeply integrated culture. Instead of another book for their anthology, they found a manuscript for a play yet unwritten. A play which would remain unwritten, before being scrapped and rewritten to fit their anthology. For we were an anomaly. And we owed this anomalous state of affairs to our species¡¯ natural gifts, and our inclinations for flight. We owed it to our wings. It was a mere, single, point of divergence. A single variable factor which entirely uprooted the Nexus¡¯ prior assumptions and expectations. So what then, could the Nexus expect from Earthrealm? If our wings were enough to uproot millenniums worth of historical, social, and cultural conventions¡­ just how far was Earthrealm¡¯s point of divergence going to take them? Where would they fall in this sliding scale of Perpetuity and Dynamicity? Moreover, could they even be classified at all? Classification implied some level of conformity within an established system of preexisting conventions. Conventions which simply could not be applied to Earthrealm and its denizens, for one, very, simple reason. The nature of their point of divergence. Their lack of a mana-field, and their mana-less home. This alone was enough to upset the reality the Nexus had meticulously crafted. For it defied the one assumption which underpinned all other conventions: that life was only possible by virtue of a mana-field. That sapience only came about as a result of the dynamic properties of mana. And that civilization was precipitated by the virtue of those few sapients with the gift and potential for mana-field manipulation, i.e. magic. For it was only through the purposeful study of mana and its implementation in the form of magic, that led to the birth of the complex constructs which allowed for the existence of advanced civilizations. Earthrealm had defied these conventions from its very inception, being a mana-less world which inexplicably bore life. Life which eventually gave rise to a mana-less race of sapients. Sapients which, through exotic means yet unknown, managed to birth civilization. An exotic civilization with an unprecedented level of parity to the Nexus in complexity and resolve, at least, as far as I¡¯ve been able to observe. This point of divergence was an impossibility, born out of a slew of enigmatic circumstances. Leading to an impossible civilization, with an unforeseen abundance of unconventional and exotic tools created with the express purpose of making up for their magical deficiencies. Perhaps then, that was what the Nexus should expect from Earthrealm. Not dynamicity. And most certainly not perpetuity. But impossibility. ¡°And so the dragon enters her den, to rekindle the fires of her flame.¡± Thalmin began, breaking my reverie as we both watched in silence as the tent-like structure jiggled and jostled around somewhat. Before finally, it fell silent. Though, silent was a relative term in this case. As the beginnings of the Earthrealmer¡¯s slumber was marked by that monstrous rumbling and a terrible shrill shriek that would¡¯ve caused any acoustically inclined species to go deaf. This terrible assault on the auditory senses was a direct consequence of the complex series of artifices required to sustain a mana-less environment, and by extension, a necessary burden to tolerate given the exotic predispositions of the Earthrealmer¡¯s unconventional physiology. I outstretched my talons, feeling the ebb and flow of the rich, vibrant currents of mana around me, focusing on the direction of their movements; feeling for the various subtleties which differentiated each and every stream from one another. Before finally, I channeled but a few with a sudden tug and push. Tisha Marsonachir. I casted silently within the confines of my mind, feeling the warmth of the mana-streams passing through my tainted manafield, imbuing me first with a feeling of fullness before quickly transitioning into that inevitable sharp twinge of discomfort. A discomfort which at one point in time had been visible to all in the form of the physical cues one would associate with pain and irritation, but that had now been all but masked. Not out of some desire for stoicism or some proclamation of strength, but out of necessity. For the Aetheronrealm court, like most existing royal courts, was a game of fronts and appearances amidst a constantly shifting political landscape that favored convention and conformity. Taint and any signs of tainted afflictions, be it imagined or authentic, was something to be avoided. Signs of pain during magic use being one of them. Thalmin, of course, never noticed. The lupinor prince turned to me once again with that toothy grin of his. A predatory expression that I understood, but that most other species of the prey variety would¡¯ve very much been naturally threatened by. ¡°Good job. Quick thinking as always, princess.¡± ¡°I will have to inquire as to the specifics of the causative agents behind that dreadful noise.¡± I began softly. ¡°It will be necessary to delve into whether or not this will be a constant each and every night, or whether there are mitigating factors which may aid in the dampening of this noise to more acceptable levels.¡± I continued, finally getting back into my former self. ¡°It is a task that is regrettable, but one that is necessary to the maintenance of our continued state of affairs.¡± The verboseness that Emma had clearly disliked, a style of speech which purposefully hid and twisted direction, course, and intent, was now coming back to me. The language of nobility, of speaking without actually saying anything, came rushing back to me. ¡°Heh.¡± The lupinor prince began, shrugging, before raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. ¡°She had that effect on you as well, huh?¡± ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± I turned to face the lupinor prince with both hands firmly by my side. ¡°Princess, it¡¯s only been a few days, but I can tell that there¡¯s a difference in our interactions. If you¡¯ll excuse my presumptiveness, I note a distinct and fine line between how we interacted prior to Emma¡¯s arrival, and the subsequent hours and days following her paths crossing with our own.¡± The lupinor spoke earnestly, truthfully, perhaps to a detrimental degree. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I cannot-¡± ¡°Maybe it¡¯s easier for me. I am a mercenary prince after all.¡± The lupine chuckled in self-deprecation. ¡°But there¡¯s an underlying sentiment of informality that the earthrealmer invokes. It¡¯s as if her very presence entices the deconstruction of Nexian social conventions, and the propagation of the self as a primary point of reference. Not one¡¯s station or social standing.¡± ¡°That much is quite apparent if I do say so myself, Prince Thalmin, at least as it pertains to that former point. The latter remains inconclusive in my eyes.¡± I stated firmly, as if I was trying to convince myself that the aura the Earthrealmer projected, hadn¡¯t yet affected me on some level. A constant exposure to her unconventional values had started to chip away at what was the norm, and had slowly begun exposing what I¡¯d been hiding underneath for a decade. But with her presence now hidden behind an impenetrable mana-less barrier, the brutal, callous, and indifferent systems of the reality I was accustomed to began rushing back in. Overwhelming the brief, almost alien sensation of calm, that had come about as a result of the Earthrealmer¡¯s lack of any societal prejudices or expectations. ¡°Princess.¡± Thalmin tugged me out of my reverie once again. ¡°I know you feel the exact same way I currently do. This¡­ liberation of the soul. I know I can¡¯t be the only one.¡± The lupinor¡¯s voice seemed almost desperate. Perhaps not so much pleading, but dangerously close to bordering a tone of voice that was unbecoming of a member of a royal household. It was clear what he was trying to do. He was trying to reach out in a way that only I understood, by virtue of our shared experiences. It was an attempt to bridge the gap, a leap of faith, and a gesture of trust. ¡°Thalmin, I-¡± I paused, as if catching myself just as I spoke, as I realized I¡¯d left out the Prince¡¯s title; a gross violation of court etiquette I hadn¡¯t made since my youth. It was a mistake that was barely tolerable as it was with hatchlings, but was all but damning for any self-respecting member of noble heritage that had outgrown their down-feathers. Indeed, it was all but a political death sentence within the ruthless world of the Aetheronrealm royal court. And while a political death sentence to most might¡¯ve meant a loss of titles or a reconstitution of stipends, to one as tainted as myself, the term was to be taken far more literally. ¡°I apologize, Prince Thalmin I-¡± ¡°You already dropped ¡®Prince¡¯ in our conversations with Emma present.¡± The lupinor interrupted, his tone very much incongruent with the content of his speech. As instead of the sharp, terse, or even condescending tone of offense that should have accompanied such an interjection, there was only a calm, undeniably friendly cadence. ¡°How is it any different now?¡± He offered with an overly amicable, toothy grin. ¡°The Lingua Regalia dictates-¡± ¡°The Lingua Regalia is a product of the Nexian reformation, and I refuse to abide by it when at all possible.¡± Thalmin retorted bluntly. ¡°Whilst a similar concept might have existed in your realm prior to the reformation, what is left of it now is most certainly not of your own heritage or design. Thus I urge, no, I implore that we end this charade. Or, at the very least, we should start making an effort in doing so behind closed doors.¡± His tone was firm, but not demanding, once more straddling the line between defiance and diplomacy. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Thalmin was making concessions now, or at the very least, it was clear he was trying to make things more accommodating for me. I couldn¡¯t tell if this was just an aspect of his realm¡¯s infamously rebellious attitudes, or whether or not this was yet another impact of Emma¡¯s convention breaking proclivities. ¡°Language is but another facet of control.¡± I spoke under a hushed coo, partly to myself, and partly to surmise the underlying issues behind Thalmin¡¯s sentiments of discontent. ¡°By addressing this matter in such a blunt manner as you have suggested, you understand this leaves no room for interpretation as to your rebellious intent, correct?¡± It wasn¡¯t like me to be this willing to take unnecessary risks for no real tangible returns, to act foolishly for foolishness¡¯ sakes. Even addressing this matter felt as if I¡¯d yanked the veil off of a Nexian attache in the midst of a bicentennial procession. Yet I couldn¡¯t deny what Thalmin had already pointed out. I couldn¡¯t deny that his words bore merit. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have it any other way, Princess.¡± The Lupinor prince uttered confidently, and in doing so, had all but laid his cards to bear. ¡°Besides, I did say only behind closed doors did I not? I¡¯m not entirely suicidal after all.¡± The prince quickly added, bringing me some level of reassurance that the man hadn¡¯t yet lost all of his stately bearing. Yet even after all of these reassurances, and despite the nature of the Havenbrock royals being known to me, it still took me a great deal of conscious effort to actively commit to a drastic shift in noble etiquette. I understood that I¡¯d done so without any conscious effort prior, in the presence of the Earthrealmer, but that felt fundamentally different. ¡°Thalmin.¡± I spoke, feeling as if I¡¯d just flown head first into a downdraft. ¡°Your eagerness to accept the Earthrealmer¡¯s novel, nonconforming ways, is truly unprecedented.¡± I managed out with great trepidation. ¡°Is it truly something you wouldn¡¯t have expected from a mercenary Prince?¡± He chided back once more. ¡°That particular title and the subject matter it pertains to is irrelevant to this conversation.¡± I shot back. ¡°You of all people should know that the Aetheronrealm stands with Havenbrockrealm. Whilst your family¡¯s rise to power and ascension to the throne was¡­ troubling and unforeseen, there is no denying the lengths to which your rule has benefited the realm. A far cry from the despotic rule of the prior regime which shall remain unnamed as befitting of their discredited state.¡± I paused, allowing some time to compose myself before continuing. ¡°With all that being said, I merely wish to express how I was taken aback by the shift in your appraisal of the Earthrealmer¡¯s dispositions.¡± I clarified diplomatically. ¡°Especially given your initial interactions with Emma.¡± ¡°A shift, yes. But one within reason.¡± The wolf promptly clarified. ¡°Emma is an enigma, Princess. When she first arrived, I was met with a being who hid their face in a suit of magically sealed-off armor. You know as well as I that us Lupinors find the obscuring of one¡¯s scent, mana-based or not, to be indicative of cowardice or duplicity. But beyond those actions were words, words which boasted and proclaimed of a realm without knights and squires. So confidently did she utter those words that the sheer ludicrousness of such a statement had moved to border on the sing-song overtures of your common back-tavern two-faced fraudsters. Simply put, Emma had raised every potential red flag that could¡¯ve been raised from the likes of a newrealmer.¡± The lupinor paused, as if to emphasize his next point. ¡°It would¡¯ve been an impossibility to see any of her claims through, let alone for the content of her character to be proven righteous in my eyes.¡± ¡°Yet despite all of that, she managed to do so in a matter of days.¡± I interjected, eliciting a series of fervent nods from the Lupinor prince. ¡°She managed to prove the impossible, possible.¡± The lupinor admitted with a hefty sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t like being wrong, Princess. I hate losing. Yet, this is one of those instances that I must concede and suffer a level of personal indignity. To do otherwise, would be to remain in the field of battle knowing well that the war had already long since moved on.¡± ¡°A very noble sentiment, nothing short of what I¡¯d expect from a prince of the Havenbrok household.¡± I spoke with a reassuring smile. ¡°From the very nature of her species, through to the mana-less artifices she wields with the deftness of a mage-artificer, Emma has done something which even the most seasoned of court nobility finds difficult to do.¡± ¡°That being?¡± ¡°Actually providing evidence to back up one¡¯s bold and ostentatious claims.¡± I offered surreptitiously. The lupinor cackled loudly at that, the fang-to-fang grin he held refusing to die down as it became clear with each passing act of jest, that we were indeed slowly but surely solidifying the foundations of our unconventional clique. ¡°Fair point, princess.¡± ¡°I admit, I still had my personal reservations on the Earthrealmer even after all of our discussions, but every single one was ultimately rebuffed by the admission of ignorance from the Great Keeper of Knowledge himself.¡± ¡°That was your tipping point?¡± Thalmin asked with a cock of his head and a flick of his ears. ¡°Not necessarily, my reservations had already shifted earlier on due to the sheer weight of the evidence she had to support her claims. However, for a truly neutral, wise, unbiased observer with an unparalleled scope of power and knowledge such as the library to admit its ignorance on the nature of Emma¡¯s armor and artifices? To then demonstrate a proactive willingness to bestow upon her a title of patronage? I would say that any and all doubts regarding the veracity of Emma¡¯s claims, were all but put to rest from that point onwards.¡± I admitted with a soft series of coos. ¡°You¡¯re a wiser mind than myself, Thacea, so I won¡¯t discount your trust in the library. Though I personally have my doubts on putting faith on such a self-centered pit of endless consumption. If it weren¡¯t knowledge it sought after but instead say¡­ weapons of war or tomes of discord, I believe most would change their tune with regards to its trustworthiness. I personally don¡¯t see any entity with that much power, demonstrating such a gross lack of empathy, as one I can ever put my faith in.¡± Thalmin once more laid out his grievances against the library, but just as quickly moved on. ¡°But I digress.¡± ¡°So if not for the library, then what was your tipping point, Thalmin?¡± ¡°I¡¯m of two minds on this one Princess.¡± The Lupinor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness. ¡°Because my tipping point, as it were, lies in an artifice that remains firmly entrenched within two worlds. Impossibly compelling, yet by virtue of its disturbing implications, equally impossible to believe in.¡± That vague descriptor certainly caught my attention. ¡°That being?¡± ¡°Her ¡®gun¡¯.¡± Thalmin stated bluntly, before pausing, deftly shifting the conversation towards what it had so clearly been building up to all this time. ¡°Do you really believe it? Everything she says about it?¡± ¡°What aspect of it in particular are you bothered by?¡± I quickly deflected back, allowing the prince to place all his cards on the table before I revealed my own. ¡°It¡¯s not so much about the exotic mechanisms by which such a mana-less artifice is supposed to work, that much I can suspend my disbelief over, as I¡¯d already seen it in action. Her claims are reinforced by action, something that very much speaks to me on a deeper level. Because unlike her memory-shard artifice, or her insect-like golems, or even her translation artifice, this is the only tool on her roster that I¡¯ve been able to actually, palpably, see the inner workings of. It spoke for itself in the field of battle, and its components, whilst bizarre, were at the very least capable of being dismantled and explored. It is because of this that I¡¯ve truly come to believe Emma. However, what troubles me is what you¡¯ve managed to uncover by virtue of your inquisitive line of questioning, Thacea.¡± I knew exactly what the Lupinor was referring to, and it would be a lie to say my heart did not waver as the topic was broached once more. ¡°The proliferation and deployment of such a weapon en masse and as a universal standard?¡± I spoke with a nervous coo. ¡°Precisely.¡± The prince let out a sullen, whine-ridden sigh. ¡°Then I refer to what we¡¯ve already established, what you said yourself, the Earthrealmer has a propensity for proving the impossible, possible. Emma has been immensely forthright thus far has she not?¡± I shot back. ¡°Yes she has, but that doesn¡¯t mean she does not have reason to lie regarding the potential strength of her realm. It¡¯s the smart thing to do, after all.¡± Thalmin surmised, clearly attempting to rationalize away what I knew wasn¡¯t the case. The Lupinor had yet to have been privy to what Emma had shown me the night prior: the unrelenting fires of industry that the Earthrealm possessed. ¡°Thalmin, as much as I would agree with you given the logic of such an assertion, I just don¡¯t see this being the case with Emma. What you¡¯re describing is the intentional ascription of a strongman¡¯s tactics to diplomatic dialogue. Which, up to this point, Emma has never once demonstrated. If she wished to lead in with strength and bluster, why do so exclusively in front of her most trusted peers? Why now of all times? Why does she choose civilized discourse with the Academy, backed not with strength, but with espionage? She has had every opportunity to play the strongman, she has the capacity to intimidate and bluster with great bravado, yet she hasn¡¯t.¡± I argued, taking everything I¡¯d seen of Emma up to this point and laying it all down in front of the Lupinor. The Earthrealmer had so many opportunities prior to this point to push forward with a display of strength to assert herself, yet instead she chose the intelligent path of diplomacy, aided with tools designed for espionage and intelligence gathering. She didn¡¯t lead in with strength, yet her dialogue wasn¡¯t naively driven either. ¡°That¡¯s the thing, princess. I have no reason to doubt her on this point.¡± The wolf began with an exasperated sigh. ¡°She¡¯s matched every single one of my values, word for word, and most importantly, action by action. And yet¡­¡± I didn¡¯t interject as the Lupinor trailed off, not wishing to edge him in either direction as I allowed him time to gather his thoughts at his own pace and on his own terms. ¡°... And yet, this is a step too far.¡± ¡°You just stated she fit your personal criterion on the trustworthiness of the content of one¡¯s character did you not?¡± ¡°I did, and that¡¯s the absolute most frustrating part. I just can¡¯t get myself to believe her. Everything within me tells me that I should trust her at this point. And yet, if I do¡­ then I¡¯d be subscribing to one of the most preposterous reality defying claims imaginable.¡± His eyes turned steely for a moment as he attempted to hammer home the point he was desperately trying to make. ¡°An army armed exclusively with exotic weapons is one thing. But for that army to rely on an exotic weapon which can only function so long as these meticulously crafted cartridges remain in ready supply? Thacea, that¡¯s like structuring your entire army around bowmen. What happens when you¡¯re out of arrows? The Earthrealmers have no mana, no magic, so you can¡¯t just conjure up or teleport over a fresh batch of bows. Not to mention the doctrines that would have to be adopted to field armies composed entirely of ranged combatants. It¡¯s insanity, Thacea. I¡­ I lose either way. Either I trust her and submit to the end of the reality of warfare as I know it, or I reject her claims and thus my judgment on one of the greatest potential allies and friends I could have ever hoped to gain in this hostile world.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m telling you to do.¡± I continued onwards, taking a deep breath and steadying myself. ¡°To accept that this is indeed, a possibility.¡± The wolf¡¯s eyes widened at this, as if he¡¯d expected me to yield, given my measured and reserved stance. ¡°Princess, to supply an average army of ten thousand strong with weapons that rely solely on this exotic ammunition, which truth be told requires the precision of a seasoned blacksmith or clockworker to accomplish, means that Emma¡¯s realm must be entirely devoted to the industrious efforts of war. Which causes me to shudder at the thought as to the actual state of their realm, if all matters are entirely focused on this one endeavor.¡± ¡°And yet we see her armor, forged with the expertise of a manasmith without mana. And yet we see a memory shard device, containing within it not just shards of moving images but entire books and gods knows what else. And yet we see her golems, mana-less insects capable of recording moving images, and intelligent enough to return to their master. All of this points to a society that is dedicated to more than a sole aspect of industry, Thalmin. This indicates that they are as diverse in specialization, as perhaps the Nexus itself.¡± I paused once more, allowing myself to catch my breath as I steadied up the next line of rebuttal which the Lupinor seemed anxious to hear. ¡°We¡¯re only seeing things from a singular vantage point. We lack the scope, size, and scale of a shadowmaster¡¯s records. We¡¯re peering into a ballroom through a single crack in the wall, glimpsing only bits and pieces of a greater song and dance that has been going on for gods know how long.¡± I expressed with a series of exasperated chirps, each and every one owing their still-intact composure from the practice and experience garnered within the Aetheronrealm¡¯s royal court. The difference here, however, was that court politics merely felt grandiose, when in actuality it was anything but. For each boisterous claim and embellished tale was ultimately all but the act of constructing mountains out of molehills. Whereas the situation with the Earthrealmer was the exact opposite. Every word spoken might have felt inconsequential, as benign as a chat with an ally of subordinate peerage. However, unlike court politics, each and every inconsequential word carried with it far reaching implications that bordered on the existential. Emma¡¯s cheery and amiable disposition carried with it words that broke the very fundamentals of the world I thought I knew. With her, it wasn¡¯t a matter of constructing mountains out of molehills, but instead, not appreciating every word as mountains to begin with. A silence descended upon us both as I finished my long winded tirade. Whether or not the Lupinor had taken it to heart, remained up in the air. ¡°Expect the unexpected.¡± Thalmin finally broke the silence. ¡°That¡¯s an old adage from Thalonus the Great, the first of my line, and the founder of the Havenbrock family. Perhaps it is time for me to finally take his lessons to heart.¡± The man, his face once more broken, spoke to me in a manner so earnest it almost hurt to see. ¡°You know, we have another saying in my realm, Thalmin.¡± ¡°Do tell.¡± ¡°It¡¯s: do not speak of storms if you wish to see a safe flight through. It means exactly what it implies. I understand the standards of superstition may be different across the realms, but it¡¯s very much still quite prevalent within Aetheron. So I¡¯d rather we refrain from tempting fate as-¡± SLAM The unmistakable sound of aged, mana-treated oak slamming against reinforced manasteel reverberated throughout the entire room. Proudly proclaiming the arrival, or rather, the return of a certain member to our party that has been inexplicably absent since morning. Yet neither of us stood up in either shock nor panic, as we turned to face the Vunerian, who looked to be in an absolutely sorry state. Gone were the immaculately pressed, meticulously folded fine silken robes from this morning. Now instead, replaced by a crumpled, torn, and ripped series of fabrics which barely covered his form. Indeed, I could see patches of orange fur and bite marks set across most of his cloak, which he used to immediately cover himself up just as the door swung shut behind him. ¡°What are you two looking at?! Haven¡¯t you ever seen a Vunerian at the end of a particularly productive day?!¡± Ilunor practically barked out, yet it was clear that even his throat seemed particularly worse for wear. As if he¡¯d been using, and had worn out, either his voice or his flame. ¡°I have no doubt that you two have just been lounging around here in the dorms, so don¡¯t look at me with those judgemental stares.¡± A silence once more descended upon the room, with all of us at a loss for words. It was once again, Thalmin, who was brave enough to break the silence. "What the hell happened to you, Ilunor?" Chapter 25: Under My Skin Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea¡¯s Bedroom. The Tent. Emma Booker I couldn¡¯t get to sleep. No matter how hard I tossed and turned. No matter how much I twisted this way and that. Not even asking the EVI for low fidelity playlists to sleep to had helped my situation any. Wait. The EVI. I sprung up as I realized I still heard its passive-aggressive replies as if I still had the suit on. Giving myself a cursory look-over, outstretching my gloved hands, it was clear that was exactly the case. I was still wearing the fricking suit. Was I that tired that I¡¯d forgotten to take the suit off before crawling to bed? I let out a large sigh of annoyance as I stood back up, reaching over to my gauntlet-mounted datapad as I began tapping away at the suit¡¯s manual release overrides. I¡¯d wasted enough time as it was stuck in this thing, I was going to make sure I could get at least some shuteye before- CRUNCH My fingers stopped moving. My whole body froze as my cameras began picking up movement, the same exact movements I¡¯d logged from the garden just a few hours prior. Instead of it being outside of the tent however, the movement was logged from inside of it. Or more specifically, it was inside of the air recycling ducts. This was impossible. The tent was a closed system, there wasn¡¯t any way anything could¡¯ve entered except¡­ The null¡¯s core. Did¡­ a piece of it get lodged in my suit when it blew up? I barely had any time to even process the logistics of the null being here before it rapidly oozed out of the ventilation duct like a pile of non-newtonian sludge. It was at that moment between fight and flight that I knew had to get out of there. Combat within the tent was a no-go, and I needed some space between it and myself, some distance so that I could effectively deal with it. I leaped for the airlocked door, reaching over to manually yank it open- Only to slam head face first against the hardened plastic floor, as I felt my center of balance inexplicably failing, my ankle having been lassoed onto by the iron grip of this gray mass of sickly sludge. Things progressed impossibly quickly after that, as I reached for my gun, only to have the thing pull me in. Like an amoeba engulfing its poor single-celled victim. Except I was that single cell. Though I sure as hell wasn¡¯t intent on becoming a fucking meal, a thought that only became more acute as I was pulled into its cytoplasmic confines, the grey membrane closing promptly soon after. So I tugged and pulled, punching against the malleable ¡®surface¡¯ of the blob, only for it to stretch impossibly thin, refusing to break. The situation went from bad to worse, as the jelly-like fluid I was floating in increased in viscosity, to the point where I felt like I was stuck in molasses. Every inch of movement felt like a herculean task, even when aided by the exoskeleton and servos of the suit, all of which were on the verge of overheating just by sheer strain alone. Then, finally, I stopped. Not because I wanted to, but because it was physically impossible to resist. My heart continued to race as my breathing hitched up in frequency to the point where I felt like I was about to pass out¡­ but I never did. A second wave of panic rushed over me as I suddenly felt the molasses-like substance managing to breach the armor, entering my suit through unseen seams, before finally coating my whole body from head to toe. I was suspended in this¡­ solution for what felt like entire hours, but as the suit would indicate, it¡¯d only been barely a few minutes since this whole situation went sideways. However as the minutes passed, I took note as the null¡¯s membrane grew thinner and thinner, until finally it popped. Plopping me back on the composite flooring of the tent, completely motionless, as my body refused to respond to any of my commands to book it out of there. I didn¡¯t understand what happened next. I couldn''t really comprehend it¡­ but I suddenly felt the cold, unregulated air hitting my back, causing me to flinch and struggle as I attempted to leap out of the suit, only to find that¡­ I couldn¡¯t. Instead, something else did. And it did so slowly, carefully, methodically. As if relishing in the feeling of freedom of movement as I¡¯d done so last night upon exiting the suit in the tent for the very first time. In fact, I caught a glimpse of it as it strode its way in front of me, or rather, in front of the armor. As what stood in front of me was¡­ myself. It was dressed in the same undersuit that I¡¯d worn when I entered the armor this morning. Its brown hair was ruffled, messy, and unkempt, exactly like mine. It was then that I realized, with a sudden horror and a gut wrenching sense of absolute terror, that it was me. And I wasn¡¯t stuck inside the suit. I- ¡°Thanks!¡± It spoke, in a voice that perfectly mimicked my own, down to that subtle sing-song cadence I¡¯d used to mess with my friends back home. As if this was some sort of a fucking prank. ¡°I think this is the start to a solid relationship. Seeing as I am you now, I¡¯m as trapped in this unforgiving world of mana as much as you were! But, hey! I have a body now! And you¡­¡± It looked at me with a cock of its head, or my head, fuck I didn¡¯t know what was going on anymore. ¡°Well, you¡¯re still alive in there, aren¡¯t you?¡± I couldn''t respond, I couldn¡¯t move. ¡°I take it you¡¯re still in there. Well, listen, be glad I didn¡¯t just melt you down or remove your soul or something. I just¡­ moved it! And I put it in the next best thing! Your armor! Or well, I guess I should say it¡¯s my armor now! And wait, does this mean you belong to me? Huh, that¡¯s kinda weird. But hey! We can make that work, right?¡± It grinned, a playful, almost impish smile that didn¡¯t fit my face. ¡°Hah! I¡¯ll take the silence as a yes! Alright then, it¡¯s nearly¡­ twenty-three hundred hours. Oh wow, you¡­ Earthrealmers have such a fascinating time-keeping convention! Your mind¡¯s filled with all sorts of unique goodies! I can¡¯t wait to be you, Emma! Or, erm, hmm, I guess I am you now, huh?¡± It continued unabated, staring at me with those ecstatic eyes, the eyes of someone who¡¯d just escaped from max-sec prison, and was now just relishing in the freedom of fresh air. I tried moving, struggling, trying to pull my arms this way and that, but I couldn¡¯t. All I could do was watch, through those lenses that now were my eyes, unable to even blink as the null-turned-me maintained that cocky grin throughout my internal screaming. It eventually hopped up on a stool, pushing its face, my face up close towards the suit¡¯s helmet, as if to rub its victory in my face further. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll take good care of your mission. No one will suspect a thing. And when we get back to Earth by year¡¯s end, I¡¯ll make sure to request the Director and the Major to keep this specific set of armor. I won¡¯t let you die, Emma Booker. I still care about you after all.¡± It continued on in that sing-song voice, before leaping off of that stool with the finesse of a figure dancer. Something I doubt I could¡¯ve done. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, it got back in the suit, hopping back inside as it began taking full control and began walking out of the tent. It felt like I¡¯d taken a backseat, as my body, or rather the suit began moving under the doppelganger''s whims. I could only look on in abject terror, as I continued shouting expletives¡­ but without a mouth, no one could hear me scream. ¡°Don¡¯t worry buddy, you''ll get used to it.¡± BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP I woke up dazed, panicked, confused, and hot. Sweat covered my hair and face as I scrambled in place for a while struggling to regain my bearings, still stuck between the world of the dreaming and the world of the waking. It took a while, what felt like minutes, before my hands reached up to touch my face, my arms, my legs, my whole body, as if to reassure myself that all of that was just a nightmare. It was silly, perhaps even stupid to do, but at this point I doubted that any crazy outlandish fear was ever truly out of the question anymore. The line between what was reality and what was fantasy, had already well and truly shattered the moment I crossed that portal and into a realm of literal swords and sorcery. Five minutes passed, and I still couldn¡¯t shake the uncomfortable feeling of being trapped inside of the armor. Not as a passenger, not as a wearer, but as a fucking prisoner inside of the metal and composalite itself. And just like last night, I sat cross legged in front of the veritable powerhouse of a machine, staring up at its unfeeling, unflinching face. This time however, I shuddered. I knew it wasn¡¯t possible. I knew the null wasn¡¯t capable of that. It was just my overactive imagination. ¡°I never should¡¯ve fucking binged Castles and Wyverns¡¯ hours-long hidden lore breakdowns. It was nightmare fuel back in high school, it¡¯s still nightmare fuel now. Fucking hell.¡± I spoke out loud purely to myself. I just needed to hear my own voice, I just needed the reassurance that everything was in fact, okay. I didn¡¯t know what particular aspect of Castles and Wyverns I was pulling from, what amorphous creature of despair I was drawing inspiration from, or whether it was just homebrew at this point¡­ but I knew it was all just a result of my overactive imagination. MEDICAL ALERT: Detecting elevated Heart Rate, Blood Pressure, Respiratory Rate, and stress hormones; EEG patterns outside baseline standard. Patterns indicate [1] episode of severe night terror. Emma Booker, do you wish to- ¡°EVI, shut up, I¡¯m fine, just give me a fucking minute.¡± I managed out, causing the EVI to beep in acknowledgement. Acknowledged Emma Booker. Medical event logged for field assessment reports. I groaned out in exasperation, realizing what this meant when I got home. Therapy. My eyes quickly shot up to the upper right corner of my vision, expecting to see the various countdown timers and the titular clock that always seemed to be ticking towards something. However, this being one of the few moments I was actually outside of the suit, all I saw was the same stark white of the tent, and a few eye floaties. ¡°EVI, time?¡± It is currently 2245 hours. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Alright, give me 10 minutes, then a 5 minute snooze limit.¡± Acknowledged.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 2300 Hours. Emma Booker Priority number one after the weapons inspection, and before tomorrow¡¯s second attempt at negotiations with the apprentice: get the rest of the tent¡¯s living facilities set up STAT. I instructed myself as I lazily exited my room and back into the dorm¡¯s shared living space. There, as expected, I was met with the likes of Thacea and Thalmin. What wasn¡¯t expected, however, was the return of a familiar blue-scaled face. A face that looked none too pleased about his current disposition. Which was fair, given how he looked as if he¡¯d just crawled out of a hole. If there was an orchestrator to our fates, it was clear they¡¯d missed the mark as to who should¡¯ve bore the brunt of the battle scars of the day. Though to be fair, I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t bear any scars at all, because if the fight did come to that¡­ I shudder to think what might¡¯ve actually come of it. ¡°Really, Earthrealmer? It¡¯s rude to gawk and stare you know. I know that a thatched hut and a damp cave isn¡¯t ideal nor conducive to nurturing a society of culture and etiquette, but I would expect that your kind would already be used to seeing attire that¡¯s been torn and ripped apart by foul beasts.¡± Ilunor suddenly barked out, which elicited a sharp caw of annoyance from the likes of Thacea, and a stern growling at by Thalmin. ¡°So.¡± I began, steadying myself, realizing that I was opening the door to Ilunor''s petty tirades... but damn it I couldn''t help but to entertain my curiosity. ¡°What happened, Ilunor?¡± This went as well as one would expect. As the little thing raised his head up high, aiming his maw at the ceiling and away from everyone, before finally- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS WHEEZE A small black puff of smoke and soot erupted from the Vunerian¡¯s maw, followed by a series of sparks and small, briefly-lived flame that died as quickly as it had sputtered into existence. If that was an attempt at venting his frustrations in a way similar to his supposed draconic ancestors? Then he¡¯d missed the mark, and then some. ¡°Ilunor, if you would stop trying to emulate your 32nd cousin twice removed, that would be much appreciated, thank you.¡± Thalmin interrupted, garnering a sharp hiss from the blue Vunerian who wordlessly glared daggers at the lupinor prince. This prompted him to immediately begin damage control. ¡°But you see, I wasn¡¯t trying to emulate any of my draconic relatives. That would be a feat reserved to be witnessed by the likes of my fellows, and not the likes of those unworthy of such a splendorous display of draconic excellence.¡± The Vunerian attempted to quickly correct his course. ¡°Neither a tainted, nor a mercenary, nor a newrealmer, is deserving of such a brazen act of draconic aggression.¡± He proudly boasted. ¡°So why the-¡± ¡°Aha, and there we have it my dear mercenary friend. As presumptuous and quick to assume as always. What you saw wasn¡¯t a regal display of draconic power.¡± He postured. ¡°Okay, then what was it-¡± ¡°It was my attempt at answering the Earthrealmer¡¯s question via a visual demonstration that might more easily be digested by a being that always seems to prefer demonstration over conversation.¡± The small thing attempted to turn his failed attempt at mimicking a dragon¡¯s breath around, twisting and twirling his logic in a way that would make any junior politician back at home blush. ¡°A visual demonstration of the failure of bartering your way through the library?¡± Thacea interjected with an exasperated coo. ¡°On the contrary my tainted princess, this is a visual demonstration of a proactive first year student of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, actually using his time wisely to get a leg-up before the races have even commenced!¡± The lizard shot back. ¡°For you see, I am involved in a variety of, shall I say¡­ extracurriculars now. Of which you have more than likely seen just a disproportionately small fraction of in that brief instance where we crossed paths in the library.¡± The Vunerian, having finished his long-winded humblebrag, finally turned back to face everyone. ¡°So, to answer your question, Earthrealmer, I have been busy with extracurriculars, plain and simple! One of which resulted in a fierce and horribly unjustified altercation at the abominable and shameful establishment that is the library. Which inevitably resulted in me expending all of my efforts in utilizing my natural draconic gifts for the expressed purpose of self defense!¡± Was¡­ was he actually being truthful right now? I thought he¡¯d at least try to hide that fact. Which means, there''s probably more to it than just a trip to the library and a simple altercation with the foxes. If he wasn¡¯t willing to hide that fact, there was definitely something else afoot. ¡°Right.¡± I answered simply and with a single, cautious nod. ¡°Alright, then. Thank you for answering my question Ilunor.¡± I stated plainly, but was swiftly interrupted by Thalmin who clearly had something more pressing to say. ¡°Emma, we need to talk.¡± Thalmin began, snuffing out the embers of the Vunerian¡¯s fire before it could ignite into anything resembling a longer-form conversation. As it was clear that if Ilunor had his way, this entire night would¡¯ve inevitably fell into another series of petty verbal spats. And so, with a collective series of nods from the likes of the lupinor, the avinor, and myself, we collectively decided to disregard the Vunerian¡¯s incessant baiting. At least for now. ¡°Sure, what¡¯s up?¡± I managed out in between a heavy yawn and a stretch. A stretch which would¡¯ve ended in some collateral damage in the form of some blunt force damage to the walls and furnishings, if it wasn¡¯t for the months-long process of power armor acclimatization, or more specifically the spacial awareness courses that forced me to all but rewire my subconscious perceptions on just how much space I actually took up. ¡°So all of you are going to act like children, completely moving on without a single shred or word of sympathy or empathy?¡± The Vunerian spoke up once more, this time, he was seething. ¡°Fine! Be that way, I¡¯ll take my leave!¡± The diminutive lizard began storming out of our little group, making an effort to make each and every one of his little stomps as loud and as audible as possible as he entered his bedroom, and slammed the door behind him shut. We collectively decided to quickly move past that, at least for the time being, as far more pressing matters warranted our attention. ¡°Emma, I believe it would be prudent to discuss what it is you decide to tell the armorer about your ¡®gun¡¯.¡± I knew at that point, it was bound to be a long conversation.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Armorer¡¯s Workshop. Local Time: 2345 Hours. Emma Booker The conversation ended up as long as I¡¯d assumed. Whilst a lot had been discussed, and a lot of ideas had been exchanged, we ended up circling back on ourselves towards a unanimous decision. That it would be best if I kept the gun, at least when it came to its true nature, away from the armorer. Thalmin had already had a chance to meet the guy during the course of my nap for the purposes of his own weapons inspection. He¡¯d briefed me as much as he could from what little he was able to discern from the guy, which wasn¡¯t much, given how brief the whole interaction was for him. Though brief, there was one thing about the armorer that really struck Thalmin, and that was the fact that he was an eccentric. Though not in the way that seemed harmful, as the wolf mentioned how he seemed more akin to Chiska than Mal¡¯tory, which was a breath of fresh air. Despite this, there was something worrying about him, and that was his constant focus on poking and prodding every student for gossip on a certain armored student. That was enough to give me pause for concern. All in all, I was confident in my assessment to lead in with caution rather than boisterous posturing. A decision that I¡¯d carefully weighed up in my head ever since the announcement of the weapons inspection the night prior. Whilst I¡¯d considered divulging a limited deal of information regarding the gun as a show of force, I realized that any net gain I earned from that would more than likely be outweighed by the Academy managing to use that intel against me. Either by preparing some sort of countermeasure, or just by the loss of the element of surprise. It was safer to stay silent about it. And, funnily enough, the whole stereotype of a mana-less weapon being primitive would be useful in this effort. As I could lean into that narrative the Nexus was more than happy to propagate. What I was less confident about however, was my ability to navigate the maze that was the academy As every journey down its halls seemed to be an adventure unto itself. Indeed, the journey was practically littered with what I could only describe as magical potholes or something with how many warnings of localized surges of mana-radiation had been logged between my dorm and the workshop. Thankfully though, the path to the workshop proper was anything if not a welcome break from the usual Academy fare. As all it was, was just a long, insultingly straight corridor that led from the castle proper towards another structure built a good ways away from the main complex. The long, skinny corridor reminded me of those ridiculous walkways you¡¯d find at the old airports, converted to space ports, then reconverted to airports once again that dotted the entirety of Acela. From the ancient Newark and Laguardia to the mid-millenium Northport and Vice President Sinclair, these airports seemed to have a weird love-obsession with these long, skinny, overly long corridors. Though on Earth I¡¯d be sighing at annoyance at having to commute through one, I was practically jumping for joy at seeing something that wasn¡¯t a 100-turn corridor turn here at the Academy. Upon trekking the good 500 feet or so of corridor, I was met with a large pair of double-doors. Though instead of wood or oak, these were constructed of something hefty. Steel, or some other material, dressed up with intricate craftsmanship that I could only imagine would¡¯ve taken years to make given how many murals lined practically each and every square inch of these 20-foot tall doors. I barely had enough time to study them before I committed them to the suit¡¯s virtual memory banks. As the pair of large doors opened, revealing what I could only describe as a veritable playground for the likes of the weapons-obsessed Thalmin. The word workshop was an insult to this room. A room that seemed to be an open-planned, cathedral-like expanse of granite and steel. Archways constructed of what looked to be glowing metal curved around the open expanse, criss-crossing, and interlacing like one of those old Victorian-era factories with questionable health and safety practices. The roof to this place added a layer of opulence to an otherwise rather utilitarian-looking space. With furnaces and forges going off on their own, lining all of the walls and bathing the room in a sweltering heat. Indeed, the room didn¡¯t need any lighting fixtures at all. It was the forges alone that provided the warm, orange and red glow that bathed the entire space, and there were enough of them that not a single corner of the room was left in the dark. Even this late into the night. However, none of these things were truly the most impressive aspect of this place. As that title was instead confidently held by the man who stood in the middle of it all, dominating the entire space. Throughout my conversations with Thalmin, despite us getting into the specifics of the armorer¡¯s temperament, we¡¯d more or less left the details as to his actual physical characteristics out of our discussions. I¡¯d assumed the man would be yet another elf. Or, perhaps another petting-zoo person. Or perhaps even a giant or even some sort of a dragon-derived being. Maybe even a dwarf, now that I thought about it. However what awaited me wasn¡¯t any of those options, but instead, someone that gave me pause¡­ as if I¡¯d bumped into a spitting mirror image of myself. If I were to get a magical glow-up that is. Because the person that stood there, in the middle of this cavernous room, was a being clad in armor. An armor that was intricately designed, detailed, and adorned with motif after motif. From gold to copper, and gems of emerald and sapphire, the man looked as if he¡¯d just ran through several raids to get the highest tier of armor possible from every single MMO in existence. Though it was clear his armor wasn¡¯t just for show, either. As several chips, scrapes, and even dents on it were clearly visible. Why he hadn¡¯t yet repaired that was beyond me. The next thing I immediately took note of as I took those first tentative steps into the workshop, was a massive uptick in mana radiation. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 700% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS And the source of all of this localized mana? Aside from the forges that were logged at around 700% above the background radiation levels? Was the man himself. ¡°Ah, here at last! I¡¯ve been waiting all day for ya!¡± The man bellowed out. As if his voice had emerged from somewhere deep within the suit, and not from the helmet itself. ¡°You¡¯ve caused quite a stir for the folks at the top. Might I say, it¡¯s been quite an exciting day awaiting your arrival. So, shall you begin, or shall I?¡± ¡°Considering I¡¯m the party being inspected, I¡¯d be alright with starting us off, Professor.¡± I offered. ¡°Hmm! That voice!¡± The man blurted out as quickly as he¡¯d heard me speak. ¡°Erm, my sincerest apologies for that little bout of social faux pas, my fair lady! Or, is it my fair knight? Hmm, they said it was cadet¡­ I assume that¡¯s a military title, knight it is then! Unless you have any personal reservations on what title I should use to properly address you by?¡± ¡°Erm, just, Cadet, or Emma, is fine, Professor.¡± I offered, my composure not once faltering, even as the man¡¯s eccentricities began surging to the surface. ¡°Oh stars above! I apologize if this is too intrusive of a question, but by the gods I must know! Word amongst the student body is that you are a recluse of some sort, or perhaps even a golem or some other foul creature. But surely my hearing does not deceive me! I must ask, are you another one of my kind?¡± The, what I assumed to be a large burly man underneath that bulky suit, began quite literally jumping for joy. ¡°Your kind, Professor?¡± I shot back simply. ¡°Ah but yes! Of course!¡± He began as he crashed back with a loud clash of metal against metal. It sounded¡­ off, more akin to the ringing of a hollow bell than that of occupied armor. ¡°I do apologize for the overstepping of bounds and the presumptuous nature of my excitement! Yes, my kind! Our kind? The spellbound. Surely I am not mistaken, but the voice I am hearing from within your own set of armor, is clearly not generated via traditional, wait, conventional? No¡­ organic? Yes! Organic means! Nor is it enhanced with a simple spell of voice amplification! Your voice, as I hear it, is generated via a means not unlike my own! Not through a series of fleshy chords, nor the inhaling and exhaling of stagnant air, but via other means! Which can only mean-¡± ¡°Erm, Professor. I apologize if I¡¯m interrupting here but I can assure you I am not a¡­ ¡®spell-bound¡¯ or anything of the sort. I¡¯m¡­¡± Wait, is this really the first time I¡¯m revealing myself as anything but an Earthrealmer? ¡°I¡¯m human, Professor. An Earthrealmer, as people here seem so predisposed to say.¡± ¡°Ah. So. Flesh and blood?¡± The man uttered with a wide-angled tilt of his head, and a clear tinge of disappointment coloring his voice. ¡°Yes Professor. I¡¯m just flesh and blood underneath this suit.¡± ¡°Darn!¡± The suited man snapped back, both through his voice, and more literally as he snapped his gloved fingers with a loud, metallic clang. ¡°But, your aura, or lack thereof. And the lack of any life force, it¡¯s-¡± I interrupted the man before he could finish that thought. Here we go again. ¡°It¡¯s a long story, Professor.¡± Chapter 26: Fullmetal Armorer It goes without saying that addressing my particular predicament to anyone from this side of the portal was almost always guaranteed to be an enormous undertaking. Primarily because of the whole ¡®mana-less¡¯ thing. This was to be expected though. Since the only ¡®mana-less¡¯ aspects of life on this side of the portal could probably be counted on a single hand. Anything and everything else that wasn¡¯t bolted to the ground probably had some level of mana tomfoolery involved. Mana was everything here. My existence was literally a living antithesis to everything everyone here knew. This meant that every explanation was bound to be a marathon and a half to commit to. So some level of lung capacity and mental fortitude would be necessary, as I steeled my resolve for what was inevitably to come. ¡°A long story is it?¡± The armorer parroted my words, as he once more moved about in a series of exaggerated physical gestures. All of which were perhaps done in an attempt to make up for his lack of discernible facial features, or any other features to emote with for that matter. ¡°Yes Professor, it is. Though I wouldn¡¯t want to impose myself on your schedule. I know I showed up practically last minute, so I wouldn¡¯t want to take up more of time than I already am-¡± ¡°Nonsense! Away with this nonsense!¡± The man interrupted with the raising and subsequent gesticulation of a single hand, the armored gauntlet rattling about wildly, generating a series of distinct metallic clangs from all of the individual segmented pieces of steel rattling against one another. All of which echoed loudly within what sounded like the hollow confines of his armor. ¡°I will be quite frank with you Emma Booker, the time limit I imposed for the weapons inspection is completely arbitrary.¡± The man beamed out, as yet another series of bellowing chuckles emerged from deep within the armor itself, echoing inside its confines. ¡°And the only reason why I even imposed a time limit at all, was because it was part of the syllabus and thus an obligation I must abide by. Though I did try my best to ensure that it sounded as light hearted and theatrical as possible. I did mention, or rather, I had Chiska mention it was a task to be done by the stroke of midnight or something along those lines did I not? Or perhaps that was lost in translation?¡± The man continued on, breaking into a weird half-hearted internal ponder. Though that quick transition into openly voicing his internal thoughts was just as quickly interrupted by a loud clap of both of his hands. ¡°So! Unlike a lot of the other hoity-toity professors who seem to have an unhealthy penchant for making each word balloon with unwarranted importance with little in the way for flexibility or compromise, I on the other hand am the very definition of flexibility!¡± The man quickly reached for one of his arms, shifting it, and bending it in a manner that only a contortionist could¡¯ve pulled off. ¡°See what I mean?¡± ¡°Yes Professor, I can certainly see what you mean.¡± I managed out soberly, as the full extent of Thalmin¡¯s warnings regarding the man¡¯s eccentricities seemed to surface quicker than I could¡¯ve ever expected. But that wasn¡¯t the only thing that was being put on full display. As just from this limited exchange alone, I was starting to realize just what the man meant by spellbound now. Context clues and observations over the past few minutes had made the man¡¯s true nature abundantly clear, and with the facts starting to stack up, so too did my anxiety. The more he talked, the more he moved about, the more I could tell he was literally just a living suit of armor. Perhaps a soul trapped in armor, as I was in that nightmare. I shuddered at the thought, my heart skipping a few beats in the process, but pressed onward regardless. ¡°Right! So! I hope that has dissuaded any silly thoughts of this being some sort of a time-sensitive task! So please take all the time you need Emma Booker!¡± The man offered, and despite his overeagerness and the confusing vibes it gave off, this was perhaps the first time any member of the faculty had been even remotely accommodating. Which was suspicious in and of itself. ¡°Well sir, I¡¯m certain that the rumors should¡¯ve already trickled down by now. However, I doubt you¡¯ll have to rely on the student body for this sort of thing. The faculty already understands my predicament, so I¡¯m unfortunately going to be repeating a lot of what is already known.¡± I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the shock and disbelief that was definitely to follow. ¡°I hail from a mana-less realm.¡± I began, steadying myself for an expression of disbelief to form on the armorer¡¯s face, or rather, in the form of his theater troupe-like movements. Yet none came. I took this as a sign to continue. ¡°With mana being a non-factor in my realm, life evolved without the need of a ¡®mana-field¡¯.¡± I quickly adapted and adopted the local terms I was being exposed to, changing bits and pieces of the SIOP¡¯s diplomatic conversation starters to better suit local contexts. The Director had mentioned personal initiative as an integral aspect of this mission. She definitely was right to push hard for that in training. ¡°As you can imagine, without a mana-field, I am unable to exist in this realm without the aid of artificial constructs which are able to shield me from the effects of mana. The most obvious of which, being the armor you see before you.¡± With that bombshell of an explanation out of the way, I could only sit and wait for the fallout to follow. The way I saw it, there were only one of two viable reactions I expected from the man. One, being the path of abject disbelief and denial. The Ilunor path as I was quickly dubbing it. Two, being an excitable sort of curiosity, a natural extension of the man¡¯s bubbly and excitable demeanor I¡¯d been able to observe thus far. None of those manifested. Instead, I got something else entirely. ¡°Fascinating. Truly fascinating.¡± The man nodded in a breakneck pace. His helmet clattering about as he did so. ¡°So the rumors were true then, and with them, all my hopes for a potential reunion are likewise all but dashed.¡± The man sighed, a clear tinge of disappointment coloring his voice as it was clear that his response was neither denial nor excitement, but disappointment. ¡°Vanavan told me about you earlier today. He urged me to be extra wary about what weapons you may bring along.¡± The man spoke in a manner that was absurdly frank and forthright, without even an ounce of discretion in his step. It honestly felt as if he was just speaking whatever came to mind, with no filter to speak of. ¡°However, that¡¯s beside the point. I cared not for the man¡¯s whims or desires. The yammerings of that young elf had all but been subsumed by a rekindling of hope. A hope that I was certain had been all but snuffed out eons ago.¡± He continued, slower this time around, as the formerly excitable man that had greeted me seemed to have taken a leave of absence. In his place, a far more reserved personality suddenly came into play. ¡°A hope that has been snuffed out yet again.¡± He trained that hollow helmet on me, those dark, shadowy visors piercing into my lenses. ¡°Through no fault of your own, Emma Booker. I have only myself to blame for my foolishness.¡± There were several ways for this situation to play out now, and it all hedged on whether or not I wanted to take a leap of faith. I¡¯d approached the armorer, the weapons inspection, and this whole situation the same way I was planning to approach the rest of the objectives within this five day grace period: ticking off boxes one after another, all in an attempt to clear whatever busywork was needed of me before I continued off on my own list of objectives. This whole interaction had changed that mental calculus. As the variable that I¡¯d hedged my entire hypothesis on had, despite my best guesses, turned out to be something entirely different. This made me rethink my initial plans of a quick in and out adventure. This made me reconsider the whole equation, and what my aims actually were with the man. The best laid plans were more often than not subject to change. Reality often made things more difficult no matter the pregaming involved. People were, ultimately, still people. The armorer was no exception. There was something here that needed to be addressed, and that something compelled me to try to at least bridge what was so clearly an emotional gap. ¡°Foolish is a pretty big accusation to throw around, professor. I can¡¯t imagine an armorer, of the Transgracian Academy no less, to have done anything to earn that sort of title.¡± I offered, singing the tune of friendly overtures as I attempted to address the man¡¯s concerns. The man cackled self-deprecating, the sounds once again reverberating within that hollow suit of armor. ¡°Oh, Emma Booker. If only you knew. My hair-brained, absurdist presumptions on the nature of your person aren¡¯t even the half of it.¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t say it¡¯s absurd.¡± I countered. ¡°In fact, if I were to put myself in your shoes, er, boots, I¡¯d say absurdity would be believing in my actual nature, rather than the possibility of another spellbound being present on campus grounds.¡± I continued, empathizing with the man as I led onto my last point. ¡°I imagine it was probably much easier to believe that it was the professors who got it wrong, and that the truth was more in line with the hopes you had for another spellbound?¡± ¡°That is correct, Emma Booker.¡± The man admitted without even missing a single beat. ¡°For I was hoping, perhaps naively so, that everyone else had somehow been wrapped in a huge web of misunderstanding. I had hoped that the rumors had somehow been misconstrued. Or that perhaps Vanavan, by virtue of his inexperience and naivety, might have made some grave mistake about the nature of this new persistently armored student. That perhaps he¡¯d broken into Belnor¡¯s secret brew, in an attempt to make up for his lost youth at the Academy.¡± The man¡¯s humor seeped through for a moment, only to end up overshadowed by his dour mood almost immediately after. ¡°I had hoped and dreamed of an opportunity to meet another of my kind for a millennium now. As my work forces me to be effectively bound to the Academy, and as a result, I have been unable to truly venture far beyond the confines of its walls. I¡¯ve been trapped in a world of faces that regard me with impassive looks of neutral observance, and I yearn for another which understands my plight. Or rather, the foolishness that has led me to this fate.¡± His dourness did give way to a bit of that animated personality, which honestly added more to the dissonant mood of the scene than it did detract from the dourness of it. I was¡­ stunned. To say the very least. The man wore a heart on his sleeve the likes of which I found difficult to really take in. Up to this point, I¡¯d been met with stonewalled after stonewalled conversation. With the only reasonable party being the likes of the Library, the Gardener, and of course both Thacea and Thalmin. The latter two couldn¡¯t really be counted as they were more or less in my circle. The library was more of a business relation rather than a true conversation partner¡­ though Buddy did exist in his own category altogether. That left the Gardener, and the man was sparse when it came to his actual identity. The armorer? I imagined that even with my attempts at empathizing, he would¡¯ve just responded in the same way as the gardener did. This man was bucking the trend, and then some. ¡°While my face is trapped underneath layers of glass and steel.¡± I tried my best not to make any mention of composites, or plastics. ¡°And while my helmet and faceplate may have something of a resting face of passive disdain plastered across it, I can assure you that underneath it, is a face that most certainly isn¡¯t ready to regard you with an impassive look of neutral observance.¡± I offered warmly, which seemed to garner the man¡¯s attention as his whole body rattled for a moment. ¡°I know it¡¯s rather ironic, that the first friendly face is one you can¡¯t really see at all. But I hope that my words, and the actions I¡¯m willing to back them up with, is enough to make up for that. Not just my face, mind you, but all the faces that didn¡¯t seem to think twice about seeing you for you, as a person who deserves to be seen as a person.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. I knew this was a risk. But judging from everything I was hearing thus far it was a risk I was willing to take. Like the gardener before, there was something to be said about winning the hearts and minds of those at all rungs of society. If the Academy¡¯s higher ups were so stuck up, and set in their ways, that they¡¯d end up discarding someone like this? It was only reasonable that I at least attempt to swoop in, to strike at the opportunity to gain a potential ally. And all it would take would be something that not even the training manuals needed to emphasize. As it was an element inherent within all humans by default. For all I was doing was showing the man a little bit of empathy. The man didn¡¯t respond at first. Indeed, he just stood there, and with little in the way of eyes or anything else to read off of him, it honestly felt a bit eerie. After a while however, he seemed to shudder. His whole body shaking once more as the cavernous room echoed with the rattling of a hundred individual pieces of armor plates. ¡°I had assumed that this interaction would¡¯ve only resulted in one of two possibilities, Emma Booker.¡± The man began, warily, and with a tinge of genuine heartfelt pain in his voice. ¡°That either you humor my ridiculous notions, and thus fulfilling my hopes. Or you bring reality back into the confines of my workshop, shattering my delusions once and for all. I had assumed that I would be ecstatic and jubilant with the former, and all but pained with regret with the latter. How is it then, that you manage to elicit the feelings of the former, whilst still boldly standing by the truths of the latter?¡± The man offered with what I could only describe was a genuine attempt at a heart to heart. ¡°How?¡± I shrugged in response. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know. Though what I can say is that the feeling¡¯s quite mutual.¡± I uttered out under a series of exasperated breaths. ¡°I came here with my own set of expectations as well, two of them actually, and you¡¯ve quite effectively dashed those right out of the gate.¡± I uttered out with an amused grin under my helmet. ¡°Is that so?¡± The man uttered with a bemused tone of voice. ¡°Color me curious, what were your expectations, Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Well, I had assumed you¡¯d either be in complete denial and disbelief at the explanation of my mana-less state. Or that you¡¯d be over the moon with such a novel concept.¡± I shrugged. The man seemed to take his time in pondering this, once more, using what little he had at his disposal to exaggerate the motions of pondering curiosity. Though it was clear the man meant this in order to better bridge that expressive gap I knew all too well by virtue of my own armor, it just ended up more awkward than anything. ¡°Well to be fair, once you¡¯ve lived past a certain number of years, you start to become tired of what is known, and you yearn for what isn¡¯t.¡± He admitted. ¡°I am a selfish man, Emma Booker. I would rather choose to believe what I wish to believe in, even if it contradicts the axioms of the established. However, perhaps my excitement for the concept of a mana-less being is still being tempered somewhat by my enthusiastic hopes, and subsequent dashed dreams, of meeting another spellbound.¡± The man explained thoroughly. Whilst I understood where he was coming from, there was a certain something in the conversation that kept being alluded to that I just couldn¡¯t let go. Something that kept being alluded to and passed along as normal, but clearly wasn¡¯t, at least to me. ¡°Just how many years are we talking about here, Professor?¡± I finally asked. ¡°You tend to lose track of these things after a while.¡± The man admitted with a wide stretch and a sigh. ¡°Indeed, if it wasn¡¯t for my tenure I am more than certain I would be one of the lost by now.¡± He vaguely alluded, before getting to the meat of things. ¡°As it stands¡­¡± He craned his head back, towards what looked to be a clock in a rather unassuming corner of the room. Though it lacked a proper clock face, or hands as most would recognize. ¡°A little over five thousand years.¡± I could practically hear the record screeching to a halt at that comment. My whole mind paused as if to do a double take at what exactly was being said. Because those numbers didn¡¯t quite click with me. Indeed, with how the Academy and the Nexus tended to phrase things, large numbers tended to just blend together. It was a similar concept when dealing with the sheer scale of the human sphere at present. The magnitude of resources, of people, of ships and materiel being processed at any given second. After a certain amount, it just became white noise. Five thousand years, was certainly triggering that same response. ¡°Five thousand, sir?¡± I asked again, double checking for the sake of my own sanity. ¡°Mmhmm.¡± The man nodded, before performing a little spin. ¡°Though I don¡¯t look a day over three thousand now do I?¡± The fact that this man was carrying himself so casually even after that revelation baffled me. But given everything on the table so far, it was starting to become clear just why he was the way he was. ¡°And, those are the years counted up from the start to your tenure? You¡¯re saying you¡¯ve been here. At the Academy. For all that time?¡± I attempted to clarify, to actually get to the root of the issue before I jumped to any conclusions. ¡°Yes. Though, I fail to see how impressive that amount of time is. I admit, it may be impressive by the standards of the typical mortal life. But try to imagine it in terms of a civilization, Emma Booker. Surely your realm, given the clear advancements in metallurgy-¡± He emphasized his point by moving his helmet up and down, as if to mimic the movements of his nonexistent gaze. ¡°-is a realm as aged as any other respectable adjacent realm. Five thousand years isn¡¯t all too long in that grand timeline.¡± He shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not as if the kingdom you hail from hasn¡¯t existed for over twice that time hmm? Why, your reactions put me in mind of a primitive who still yet belongs to a barely put-together city state that has existed for a mere two, perhaps three thousand years!¡± The man joked. He talked as if his explanations actually made sense. As if this was the typical timeline of civilizations found amongst the Adjacent Realms. ¡°Of course.¡± I responded with a single nod, neither confirming nor denying any of the armorer¡¯s assumptions. One, for the sake of discretion and two, because that wasn¡¯t the main point I was getting at. ¡°I don¡¯t assume five thousand is an age that most species can get to, though. Is it?¡± I shot back quickly. ¡°Five thousand? Hah! You¡¯d be hard-pressed to find another spellbound living to that ripe old age! More often than not they¡¯d become lost well before they reach two, let alone five thousand! And well, from there, it¡¯s easy to have your bound sigil destroyed in one way or another if you don¡¯t have your wits with ya.¡± He broke off into a concerning tangent, but just as quickly got back on track. ¡°So aside from spellbound, you got your dragons that live for that long, if not longer. Then your elementals, yeah, nothing really ages them any. Then of course, your elves, but again¡­ that¡¯s getting into exceptions rather than the norm territory.¡± He shrugged. ¡°So yes, it is uncommon, but not unheard of!¡± ¡°So barring deaths resulting from injury, are you saying that you, the spellbound, are functionally-¡± ¡°Immortal. Yes.¡± The man interjected, finishing my line of thought for me as it was clear he understood what I was getting at. There was a hint of reluctance in that short, curt statement; a regret that underpinned those two powerful words. Immortality explained so much about the man, from his eccentricities to his less than typical demeanor for a member of the academy¡¯s faculty. It was clear that anyone who was alive for this long in service to an institution as uptight and obsessed about maintaining perpetuity as the Academy, would¡¯ve eventually just given up on abiding by its draconian social conventions. It was either break from the conventions, or risk breaking yourself. ¡°Professor I-¡± ¡°No, no more, none of this professor-business. No sir, sire, no nothing. I know you¡¯re trying to be diplomatic, I know you¡¯re trying your best to play the Academy¡¯s, and by extension, the Nexus¡¯ rules. However, I wish to drop all pretenses. I¡¯ve lived for long enough to see it for what it is: a means of artificial division, and the propagation of social barriers for the purposes of maintaining the same monotony for the purposes of continuity and perpetuity. It gets old, very old after just a century or two. Five millennia of this is just¡­ heart wrenching.¡± I allowed that to linger in the air for a moment, as I regarded my next words carefully, and with a great degree of thought. Only to decide on a response that was perhaps a little bit outside of the SIOP¡¯s recommended conversation algorithm. ¡°I don¡¯t really think it can be heart wrenching, at least in your case.¡± I offered, eliciting a sharp cock of the man¡¯s head as if to signal his incredulity at that statement. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s applicable to you at all. Because I think in your case, soul crushing would be the right word to use.¡± I beamed out with a toothy grin that I knew he couldn¡¯t see. The man shook, his armor rattling if only for a few seconds, before finally, breaking out into what I could only describe as a cacophony of indescribable noise. Like the rattling of silverware aboard a shuttle with a poorly secured galley. This was soon backed up by a tone of voice that could only be described as an exhausted, almost drained one. As if the man had been wracked by a silent series of heart laughs. ¡°Your humor leaves a lot to be desired, Emma Booker. However, any humor at all at this point is much appreciated.¡± ¡°Well my people didn¡¯t pick me for this whole chosen candidate position for my skills as a comedian, so I¡¯m afraid this is what you¡¯re stuck with.¡± I shot back with a sly glint in my voice. ¡°All that aside, if not Professor or Sir, do you have a name I could call you by?¡± ¡°Oh. Oh! My apologies! It¡¯s been far too long since I¡¯ve actually had to offer up my name. Centuries, actually, so, it never occurred to me to exchange such a crucial piece of information. My name is Sorecar. Sorecar Latil Almont Pliska. It feels strange saying that, given how everyone simply refers to me as the armorer nowadays. But yes, you may call me Sorecar, Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Sorecar. It¡¯ll be a while to get used to referring to anyone within the Academy by just their first name alone. But I can work with that.¡± There was clearly a lot more to be unpacked about this whole armorer business. The nature of the man¡¯s origins, the whole business with the spellbound, and so much more. But all of this was outside the scope of the current objective as is, and rushing into what was clearly going to be more personal points to the man¡¯s whole story was certainly going to be a feat unto its own. It was clear the armorer felt that way too, as he began taking the conversation in a new direction. ¡°So, erm, my apologies again for my propensities to overshare or to rattle on, Emma Booker. I would apologize further but, I would be blatantly lying if I didn¡¯t admit this has been some of the best back and forths I¡¯ve had in decades.¡± The man admitted. ¡°That¡¯s alright.¡± ¡°So let¡¯s get this weapons inspection back on track. Oh, and I hope you don¡¯t mind if I take up my offer earlier?¡± ¡°Offer?¡± I cocked my head. ¡°Yes! I did ask whether or not you¡¯d prefer to start first, or if you¡¯d like me to begin! See, I knew you were a newrealmer, so I thought it would be prudent to take this time to steal you for myself!¡± I felt my heart sinking for a second there, that same feeling you¡¯d get in a bad bout of turbulence. However, just as quickly as it manifested, so too did it subside. ¡°I apologize, that was a poor choice of words.¡± The man quickly backtracked, before continuing on in his usual peppy tone of voice. ¡°What I mean to say is, since the Academy places more emphasis on theory for you first years, but with that theory being more or less relegated to magic theory and the application of magic as a tool unto itself¡­ there is a distinct lack of classes involved with magic application as seen in artificing, and most importantly weapons artificing. So with you being a newrealmer especially, I find it prudent to plug this hole in the curriculum, by showing you the ropes of the true capabilities of magic. Not just the flashy displays of archmages and planar-mages, but the nitty, gritty world of just how magic is capable of supporting this grand project we call civilization.¡± The man spoke excitedly. A level of excitement which I could finally relate to as I nodded along fervently in agreement. ¡°Yes Profes-, er, Sorecar. I¡¯d definitely be more than happy to see what there is to see.¡± I grinned underneath my helmet as something of actual value here was being offered to me, a welcome change amidst the questionable reality I¡¯d been dropped into thus far. Beyond that¡­ I excitedly pinged my EVI, as while this wasn¡¯t in the scope of the current objective specifically, it was more than certainly within the greater scope of the mission. ¡°EVI, are you still recording?¡± ¡°Affirmative, Emma Booker. I am always recording.¡± ¡°Alright, let¡¯s collect some tasty intel. Open up a new log and evidence-gathering folder. First subject, arms classification and the manufacturing capabilities of the Nexus." ¡°Acknowledged.¡± This was going to be very fun. Chapter 27: Arcane Arsenal I felt like I was starting a Castle and Wyverns campaign in reverse. More accurately, I felt like I was homebrewing a scenario to hell and back, and possibly giving every dungeon master a proverbial aneurysm in the process. As a result of the antics I, and by extension humanity, had been pulling in this world of swords and sorcery: I think I could say for certain that I¡¯d plonked myself in something that wasn¡¯t your typical adventure. I assumed this was the case, as I had a hunch that a typical adventure certainly didn¡¯t have your budding adventurers starting off on day two in a room that was comparable to an endgame hoard or dungeon. At least that¡¯s what I was able to discern from the general vibes of the room, as Sorecar stood there in the middle of it, dramatically raising both of his arms high up above his head. This was soon followed up by the summoning of an uproarious display of fantastical flames and a mana-fueled light-show that put me in mind of some of the impressive stuff the megaparks down in Florida were still pulling off to this day. Megaparks whose name I dare not bring up even in the recesses of my mind for fear of legal retribution, especially from the big mouse himself, who more than likely would smite me down with a team of lawyers no matter what dimension I happened to be residing in. ¡°Impressed, Emma Booker?¡± The man asked earnestly, or as earnestly as he could given the sheer showiness of his actions thus far. ¡°Yes, I think-¡± ¡°Well then that¡¯s your first mistake!¡± He interjected with a hollow snap of his fingers. ¡°Because what you just witnessed was magic for magic¡¯s sake. A show, a play, an act of theater, a hollow tune played without rhyme or reason, for no real purpose, and for no true ends, burning bright, captivating all, but leaving nothing behind after all is said and done. What you just witnessed, was something that those at the tippy top of their ivory towers may appreciate, but for those who actually know their way around the nitty gritty of the magic that underpins civilization, simply abhor. For all it is, is a superfluous waste of mana, and a complete waste of skill. As in spite of its impressiveness, it remains merely a hollow display of magical potential and prowess, designed to strike fear in the hearts of the enemy.¡± He began walking up to one of the swords still glowing red hot from the furnaces, as he held it firmly by the hilt, a sharp sizzle punctuating the awkward pause in conversation. ¡°This?¡± He held up the blade, as he began swooshing it around, slicing through the air with sharp wooshes being generated with every swing. ¡°This¡­¡± The rattling suit of armor paused, taking aim with the sword towards a dummy at a far corner of the room. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 320% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS There was no brilliant display of light that followed, no visible signs of a magical weapon being used, nothing to indicate that magic of any sort had been summoned. Yet the effects of it were undeniable. As the dummy fell apart in short order, like a scene out of a piece of animation, its body was cleaved into what could only be described as a series of finely diced croutons. Whether or not croutons could be diced was a whole other topic that would be best answered by my insta-chef back home, it was just the first thing that came to mind. Regardless, the whole thing was cleaved into neat little pieces, falling apart with a series of seamless cuts that would have only been possible with a high-tensile monofilament wire. All of this¡­ from a sword having been pointed in the general direction of a dummy. Not even with any fancy swooshes at that. ¡°This¡­ is a weapon designed to strike at the heart of your enemy. It is a weapon of war. It is designed to kill your enemy, not bedazzle them. It is a tool by every measure, and one that is capable of being wielded not just by your arch mages or planar mages, but by your outer guardsman and elite town guard. There are no fanciful sparkles here, no glitz or glamor, nothing but cold hard mana-steel, and a healthy dose of complex compound enchantments.¡± I could hear him grinning, as I captured every last detail in high definition with all of my monitoring equipment, saving all of it for later review. ¡°Do you see what I¡¯m getting at here, Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Yes. Yes, I think I am.¡± I spoke in no uncertain terms. Part of me knew the man was just excited to be showing off, especially after gaining a conversation partner who actually reciprocated his excitement in what was probably decades, or even centuries. However, another part of me felt like this could be an indirect show of force, a roundabout way to intimidate and threaten any newcomers to the Nexus, especially if the typical newrelamer really was as early along on the tech tree as everyone was suggesting. However, given the armorer¡¯s personality and history, any threatening vibe given off was probably less intentional and more an unintended effect of the enthusiasm he had for his craft. Every dimension had to have their version of a weapons enthusiast after all. ¡°Hah! All shook up from that little display of weaponsmithing excellence, Emma Booker?¡± The man¡¯s voice all but shook me out of my reverie, as he approached me, slapping me hard against the back of my armor with a force that would¡¯ve more than likely been able to knock Ilunor down to the floor. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like that.¡± I muttered out with a degree of genuine shock and awe in my voice, because despite everything I couldn¡¯t help but to deny that I was in fact, blown away. Not by the weapon¡¯s capabilities mind you. Tactically speaking, it was impressive, but nothing a monofilament net flung at thousands of feet per second couldn¡¯t do. No. What was blowing me away was the fact that I was witnessing an honest-to-god legendary weapon, a magic sword in action. I could only imagine how many budding Nexian adventurers would¡¯ve killed for this chance. Literally, and figuratively. ¡°Oh.¡± The man paused, in a way that was clearly done for exaggerated theatrical effect than anything. ¡°Oh, you haven¡¯t seen anything yet!¡± He excitedly beamed back, his whole body clattering with each and every jump as he leaped over to the next forge, and brought out what could only be described as an overly ornate polearm. Indeed, I knew it was a polearm by virtue of the EVI superimposing its scans, analytics, and subsequent conclusions about the weapons currently being brought to bear. The weapon looked to be hand-crafted and probably had countless man hours poured into it, if the engravings that adorned practically every inch of its wooden hilt was anything to go by. ¡°That sword was a commission from one of the battle rangers. It¡¯s a sidearm, as most swords generally are.¡± He began, reinforcing a weird argument that always seemed to crop up back at home regarding what swords actually were. Whilst a lot of fantasy material still depicted them as primary weapons, a lot of hardened historians seemed to be adamant that weapons with far more reach like the pike, spear, and polearm were in fact the more predominant choice for primary arms. Swords were instead treated almost like secondaries. At least, that¡¯s what I think I heard. Most of my historical fixations and interests were very much localized to the 25th through 27th centuries. That interim period between the end of the intrasolar and the birth of the intersolar era. It was the most interesting period in human history in my opinion. Unlike the pre-industrial slog prior to the 19th, the awkward chaos of the 21st through to the 22nd, or the absolute grindfest that was the 23rd through the 24th. Beyond that, the only other place I was exposed to information about historical weapons was from Castles and Wyverns, and that certainly was anything but historically accurate. ¡°Mana-steel does not lend itself well to being blended with more¡­ compound enchantments. For you see, the core of a sword lies only in its hilt.¡± The man leaped over to the sword from the first demonstration, and grabbed it, the thing still sizzling in his hands. ¡°See here?¡± The man pointed at the handle trailing his gloved finger right to the hilt of the blade, turning it around, and unscrewing the pommel. ¡°That¡¯s where the core of the weapon goes, inside its wooden handle. And in a sword, well, you can only put so much core into such a small space. In addition, cores don¡¯t work well with manasteel. So most weaponsmiths simply choose one or the other. Either emphasizing mana-steel first, and core second. Or vice versa. Or simply giving up on one or the other, going exclusively with a core or mana-steel. Not me however! Oh, Old Sorecar here has tricks, and lots of them. For you see, Emma Booker, cores are generally made out of organic material, primarily wood. And elementally speaking, wood does not mesh well with steel. That¡¯s why I mean it when I say most young inexperienced weaponsmiths simply screw it up. They fail to understand that it¡¯s not about overcoming one trait with another, but instead, meshing them together. Because there are niche avenues where this is possible, where both wooden core and cold mana-steel are able to harmonize to a tune that complements rather than competes. That¡¯s the secret to a good sword. However, there¡¯s only so much you can do to a dead-end design.¡± It was with that long tirade that he placed the sword carefully back in its mold. ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s sort of like cooking?¡± I blurted out, landing on that analogy as anything else would¡¯ve given more hints of humanity¡¯s advancement. ¡°There¡¯s some flavors that work well with each other, and others that don¡¯t. So with opposite flavors, like say¡­ sweet and salty, it¡¯s easy for an inexperienced cook to overpower and mask one over another? Whereas an experienced chef knows how to use them together, taking the dish further than the sum of their parts?¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly right! You¡¯re a fast learner, Emma Booker, I¡¯ll give you that! Much faster than most newrealmers!¡± The armorer responded giddily. ¡°And I¡¯m assuming that the reason why longer shafted weapons are more powerful, is because you can fit more of this core inside of it?¡± I quickly surmised. ¡°Mmhmm! Correct yet again, Emma Booker. See here?¡± He lifted the polearm, showing me the very bottom of its hilt, and what seemed to be a cut-out that had been filled in with a dazzling display of colorful woods. ¡°This core? It runs the entire length of this beauty.¡± The man practically beamed out in equal measures excitement and giddiness. ¡°At least ten times more core than a sword. And when it comes to advanced weaponsmithing, cores unlock far more potential than mana-steel ever could, just by sheer virtue of compounding enchantments. It lends itself much better to bespoke custom-tailoring, rather than mana-steel which is more conducive to large-batch orders. Anyways! Here!¡± He began lifting the polearm up, holding it by his side like one of those ceremonial swiss guards. ¡°Try punching me!¡± He ordered. I stared at the man blankly, then warily to the polearm that I knew was more than it seemed. ¡°Oh come on! It¡¯ll be fine! This was ordered by one of the towns for their elite town guard, come on, it¡¯s made primarily for defense! So come on! Hit me!¡± The man urged with increasing excitement. With a single exasperated sigh, I complied, readying my fist as I made sure not to activate any of the suit¡¯s exoskeleton augments so as to not punch straight through the hollow armor. ¡°EVI, temporarily disable exoskeleton augments for offensive melee engagements.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± I lifted my arm up, feeling the full weight of the armor weighing on it now, as I struck the armorer dead center on his chest¡­ Only for nothing to happen. Just a dull gong, which resonated throughout the echoey room. The results simply did not live up to the hype. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Wait, what?¡± Sorecar seemed genuinely shocked, as his helmet-head rattled about, turning this way and that, before coming to a sudden and screeching stop as if he¡¯d figured out what had gone wrong. ¡°Emma Booker, you really are something special.¡± He lowered his head to meet my gaze, as he began chuckling darkly. ¡°Oh this changes a lot.¡± He continued. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°Wait, let me¡­ ah yes, let¡¯s have a golem hit me instead. Golem!¡± The man shouted, causing one of the many statues from the walls to come to life. It walked over with hefty steps, each one causing the ground underneath it, and the weapons stations around it, to shake and rattle in its presence. ¡°Golem, hit me.¡± The armorer ordered, to which the golem complied without question. It raised its fist up high, winding it, before finally unleashing all hell as the force and momentum of a thousand pounds of pure stone came barreling towards the armorer¡¯s chest- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS -only for it to stop just inches from the ornate piece of curved steel. It looked around in confusion, only to be met with the sight of a polearm that had morphed and contorted around its wrist, keeping it locked in place. ¡°Restrain.¡± The armorer spoke calmly. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS To which the polearm seemed to oblige immediately as it left the armorer¡¯s grasp, shooting out tendrils to grasp the golem¡¯s other wrist and ankles, forcing it into an enfeebling hogtie in a matter of seconds. The beast clearly tried to resist, twisting this way and that, straining the now putty-like-wood, but to no avail. ¡°Pacify.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 410% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The whole beast, the hulking mass of brick and stone¡­ fell apart in an instant. What was formerly a giant that towered several feet above the armorer, just unceremoniously broke apart. All that was left in its place was a pile of brick and stone. ¡°What did I tell ya! Much more impressive than the sword! A weapon of many uses beyond just sheer force. Every weapon has its role in the context it is supposed to function, this polearm being a law enforcement weapon belonging to an elite town guard, serves this purpose rather well don¡¯t you think?¡± The man¡¯s excitability never once died down, only pausing for sheer intensity during those one-worded orders he¡¯d shot towards the weapon. Stunned was one word I¡¯d describe myself right now. Whilst the weapon had started out rather plainly with it just being an over-glorified pair of flexi-cuffs, the sudden escalation to outright disintegration was sudden, and honestly jarring. ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t know what I was expecting. But I certainly didn¡¯t expect that.¡± I managed out under a hushed breath. ¡°So erm, is it dead?¡± The man seemed to be taken aback by that question, jolting back with a rattling of his armor. ¡°Dead?! You don¡¯t think I¡¯d just kill a living being for the purposes of demonstration would you?¡± ¡°I mean¡­¡± I pointed at the pile of rocks. ¡°Just going off of your reactions here, I¡¯m going to assume that thing wasn¡¯t actually alive, but was just a magically animated creature?¡± ¡°Correct again, Emma Booker. I apologize, I should¡¯ve made that clearer beforehand.¡± The man responded sheepishly. I could¡¯ve gone on another tangent at that point, but given that the air had been cleared up regarding the fate of that golem, there was an elephant in the room that needed to be addressed. ¡°So, question, Sorecar.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t the weapon register my punch?¡± ¡°Ah. Yes, that. Hmm, it¡¯s rather simple really. Though to say it out loud still seems a bit¡­ sacrilegious.¡± The armorer began with a ponderous series of disjointed breaths, as if he was considering one thought, then jumping to the next, and the next, then onto the next. ¡°Well, simply put, Emma Booker: the polearm did not react because it didn¡¯t see you. It was blind to your presence.¡± I blinked rapidly at that, cocking my head as Thalmin was so prone to do. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Sorry, did I misphrase something?¡± It was then that I started to notice a few notifications pinging me on my HUD, as I realized this was one of the rare few instances that a point of disambiguation was being raised. Note: Blind in this High Nexian to English translation is in reference to an impairment or inability to detect another living being utilizing mana-sensory abilities. Not blind in the conventional sense of an impairment of visual-sensory organs. ¡°Ah, no, I understand now. You¡¯re implying that it didn¡¯t detect me because it didn¡¯t detect a mana-field?¡± I shot back, breathing a sigh of relief and mentally thanking the dictionary and wiki nerds who were responsible for the EVI¡¯s translation suite. ¡°Yes. What¡¯s more, one of the fibers in the core of this polearm has an enchantment equivalent to a Class 10 spell of mana-detection. It¡¯s sensitive enough to detect threats from individuals even if they¡¯ve taken a potion of invisibility and cloaking of 10th percentile purity, as it responds explicitly to the presence of a soul, or in the golem¡¯s case, the presence of a spell-casted creature. In effect, the weapon works by latching onto a person not just physically, but magically too. For it binds to a person¡¯s mana-field, breaking it, and thus leading to acute mana sickness. Though I admit, the golem was a bad demonstration of this. It was a simple spell-casted creature, a statue brought to life with a bit of simple magic. The principles are similar, however. The polearm detected a creature animated via magic, latched on to its magical potential, before breaking the aforementioned spell. Hence the pile of rocks you see on the floor.¡± The man explained thoroughly, though his general posture seemed to change as he moved on to this next point. ¡°All of this is to say that this evidence reinforces the claims of your existence being something other than mana-derived, Emma Booker. Which, granted, I already cognitively understood to be the case. Though it¡¯s one thing to simply understand something, and another thing entirely to see irrefutable proof and evidence of it being the case.¡± He paused, as he somehow yet again met my gaze. ¡°You really are a mana-less creature, Emma Booker.¡± He stopped himself before he could continue, placing a single hand on his helmet where his mouth should¡¯ve been. ¡°Ahh! Apologies! I didn''t mean to imply you were a creature, Emma Booker, it was just the first word that came to mind, I do apologize!¡± I raised a single hand up in response. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Sorecar, really. No offense was taken.¡± I spoke calmly. I¡¯d expected an awkward silence to soon follow at that whole exchange, but it was clear Sorecar was no Thacea or Thalmin, or even Ilunor or Apprentice for that matter. The man was committed to getting what he wanted, which at this point, was clearly a desire to continue showing off some more of his latest toys. He gestured for me to follow, as we approached yet another weapons station, with what seemed to be a decidedly simple weapon. A spear, yet decorated in a manner that I could only describe as overly ornate. ¡°This is one of my latest designs. It¡¯s not a commission, mind you. However, it will soon be showcased at the next region-wide Grand Fair, as well as the subsequent Weapons Festival. It isn¡¯t flashy, which is part of the charm of my weapons. However¡­ I¡¯d like you to just observe-¡± The man trailed off, as he led me towards one of the grand gothic windows that lined the walls of this cathedral-like hall. With a flick of his wrist, the seemingly fixed windows disappeared, revealing a small grove outside. One that was populated by what I could only describe as a large platoon¡¯s worth of mannequins, complete with watermelon heads, each dressed in heavy plate armor not too dissimilar to the armorer¡¯s own. The torches outside quickly lit up in rapid succession, lighting up the grove outside, meaning night vision wasn¡¯t necessary. ¡°There¡¯s just about fifty mannequins out there. Heavily armored too, with standard grade armor you¡¯d find amongst your lesser ranked outer guardsman.¡± The armorer began, setting up some context as he lifted the lone spear, pointing it in the general direction of the platoon of dummies. ¡°Observe.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 520% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Once again, nothing seemed to happen. No flashy lights, no giant explosion, not even a loud noise or a bang. Which was probably fair given how pulling that sort of stunt at this hour wouldn¡¯t probably bring the ire of many a noble and professor. I shudder to think what the consequences of waking up a hundred Ilunor-types from their beauty sleeps would be¡­ What I did notice however, was the tip of the spear suddenly disappearing, before just as quickly reappearing after about three or so seconds. ¡°Notice anything?¡± He asked in a sing-song voice. ¡°Not really, just that the tip of the spear seemed to have momentarily vanished.¡± ¡°Yes, I expected as much. Let me bring the mannequins closer for your inspection.¡± The man raised his hand out just beyond the periphery of the windowsill- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS -causing one of the mannequins to become unrooted, as it was telekinetically brought over here in a matter of seconds. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 120% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Strangely enough, the mannequin seemed to be emitting some level of mana-radiation. I didn¡¯t think too much of it as Sorecar removed the dummy¡¯s helmet, revealing what seemed to be a large melon underneath it. A melon with- ¡°Go ahead Emma Booker.¡± Sorecar lobbed the melon in my direction. ¡°Tell me what you see.¡± I caught it without issue, as I stared at its haphazardly drawn-on face, then turned to face the armorer. ¡°A face drawn in ink?¡± ¡°Not that! Check the inside-¡± ¡°Sorecar, why did you go through the effort of drawing a face on-¡± ¡°Just turn the damn thing around and crack it open already!¡± The man hastily shot back with a clear hint of embarrassment in his voice. I dropped the subject, at least for now, as I turned the melon around as instructed. It was there that I noticed a hole, barely a quarter of an inch in diameter, clearly out of place. The armorer noticed this, throwing a knife in my direction as I caught it and began slowly, but carefully slicing the thing open. The moment I did, a sudden hissing sound emerged, followed by steam, and a mix of juices and mashed up fruit pulp. The insides of the melon were¡­ a mess, there was barely any trace of whatever meat was in here before, not to mention how the insides of it clocked in at just above boiling point. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ completely obliterated. The inside of the melon is just¡­ mush.¡± I exclaimed under a hushed breath. ¡°That is correct, Emma Booker. To spare you the technical details, the tip of the spear, this pound of mana-steel, took flight, before breaking apart into fifty individual pieces, piercing straight through the gaps in the mannequin¡¯s armor, before entering its head, wherein it vibrated, causing physical damage and residual heat. The result is, well, what you see before you.¡± The man explained carefully, methodically, with the same excitability of a weapons enthusiast back at home. I didn¡¯t know how to feel about it. On one hand, a certain level of fear and concern struck me. The fact that these weapons didn¡¯t explicitly need a mage to wield them, meant that its mass proliferation was a major point of concern. On the other hand, its existence wasn¡¯t too surprising, since the concept was anything but novel. The weapon was simply a magical version of a hunter-killer back at home. A weapon that was initially so devastating that it was actually addressed and now-heavily regulated under the thousandth-or-so iteration of the Geneva Conventions. Though to be fair, hunter-killers weren¡¯t even that useful nowadays, given the fact that the common grunt had long since been replaced by your rank and file S-AMCP (Semi-Autonomous Modular Combat Platform). These little flying darts would be hard pressed to find any organic matter inside most if any UN frontline ¡®soldiers¡¯. Save for, of course, their meat-headed enlisted-handlers who commanded them at the front. And whatever idiot decided to apply for a frontline power-armored specialist role. Like me. Beyond that however, this threat assessment really did hedge on how common these weapons actually were. It was one thing to have impressive, deadly weapons. It was another matter entirely to field an army with them. ¡°So Sorecar, I must ask.¡± ¡°Yes, Emma Booker?¡± ¡°You¡¯ve mentioned how both the sword and polearm are custom orders. I was wondering if that¡¯s what the academy workshop is renowned for? Making legendary weapons for high profile adventurers, battle-mages and the like?¡± The man¡¯s body rattled once more, as it seemed this line of question was one he was seemingly waiting for. ¡°Oh custom orders are most certainly our bread and butter, Emma Booker. The Academy¡¯s name certainly carries a great deal of prestige with it. However, I would be remiss if I were to leave it at that. The Academy workshop is likewise responsible for the Transgracian Smithy, a name renowned throughout the Nexus for much more than just your rare legendary weapon, but likewise for the more widespread enchanted weapons necessary to field entire legions, namely those of the inner, middle, and outer guard.¡± I looked around, seeing barely a dozen or so forges in active use. The numbers just didn¡¯t add up. ¡°And you make all of those weapons here?¡± I turned around as if to reiterate my point. ¡°Oh by the great smithy, of course not!¡± The man responded, his voice clearly feigning offense with a subtly coy undertone. ¡°So there¡¯s more to the workshop?¡± ¡°Oh, no, this is the full extent of the workshop.¡± He once more responded with that same coyness. ¡°However, I did say that the workshop is also responsible for the Transgracian Smithy did I not?¡± I nodded curiously at that. ¡°Yes, yes you did. So I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re in charge of an even larger smithy with even more forges somewhere on the campus, or perhaps in town? With apprentices and-¡± ¡°Oh no no, Emma Booker.¡± Sorecar interjected. ¡°From what I¡¯m hearing, it¡¯s very much clear to me that you may lack a fundamental understanding in how things are done here in the Nexus. It¡¯s understandable, given even the most exceptional of new realms haven¡¯t yet reached what the Nexus has been able to accomplish.¡± The man paused, then poked at my armor¡¯s chestplate with his finger for added effect. ¡°This is no slight against your realm, of course. It¡¯s clear your people are very gifted and talented smiths in their own right. However, there¡¯s a limit to where talent alone can get you.¡± The man paused, as if to think about his next point carefully. ¡°I think it will be easier to show you what I mean, rather than yammering on about it.¡± He craned his head to the side. ¡°That is, if you¡¯re willing to humor me, of course.¡± ¡°By all means, Sorecar, I am here to learn after all.¡± I responded as soberly as I could. However, despite trying to remain professional, I couldn¡¯t help but to let a little bit of my own excitement bleed over into my voice. Sorecar¡¯s overall excitability was just that infectious. ¡°In that case I have one final question for you, Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Alright?¡± ¡°How well does your suit tolerate heat?¡± Chapter 28: The Factory Must Grow The question stumped me for a good few moments. The fact that it had been delivered with little in the way of threatening undertones, and instead, spoken with an excitable straight face made the whole situation that much more bizarre. ¡°Well enough.¡± I responded bluntly. ¡°My suit can handle an open flame at the very least.¡± I quickly added. ¡°Good, good!¡± The armorer spoke with an excitable clatter, as he now turned his attention to a particularly uncluttered part of the workshop right in front of us, a part of this grand space that I knew was a bit off from the very beginning. It was just too unlike the surroundings, like one of those weirdly bright, luminous, clearly out-of-place objects in an ancient hand-drawn cartoon, or in one of those retro-classic video games; the really obvious parts of the background that you knew the character had to interact with. ¡°Right! Ten steps back and stand clear of the center of the room!¡± The man shouted, refusing to comply himself, as it was clear that his presence was needed to proceed with what I assumed was going to be a tour of the real guts of the workshop. He held both of his permanently gloved hands out in front of him, above the lip of the circular area that had been marked out in the middle of the room. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 450% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Then, just like that, the ground beneath us started quaking. What was formerly a single solid piece of granite was now coming apart at the seams, revealing itself to be a series of carefully chiseled bricks whose edges were so seamless that they blended into a solid mass when pressed against each other. Parts of the granite began levitating upwards, whilst others began descending downwards into the earth. This was followed by a sharp, shrill, angry hissing as jets of superheated steam shot out from the gaps rapidly forming between the bricks, bathing the room in a blanket of thick white vapor which could¡¯ve easily spelled the doom of anyone with unprotected skin or fur. ALERT: EXTERNAL TEMPERATURES EXCEEDING SAFE LEVELS. 200¡­ 225¡­ 297¡­ 327 DEGREES CELSIUS. PASSIVE HEAT SHIELDING NOMINAL. INTERNAL TEMPERATURE CONTROL NOMINAL. Some sort of pressure seal had clearly been broken, and it was only thanks to some magic-based air ventilation system that the place just didn¡¯t blow up in a violent display of gross engineering oversight. It took a few seconds for the steam to clear, and a few more seconds for the stones to fully descend, forming an intricate spiral staircase that stretched down hundreds of feet straight into what I¡¯d previously assumed had been nothing but packed dirt. Except this didn¡¯t just lead straight down into an inky black abyss like one would expect from a journey deep into a hidden room or a basement. No. In fact, it was the exact opposite. As all I could see from this vantage point was light, an enormous amount of it. Which was quickly tempered by a rapid tinting of the helmet¡¯s lenses, revealing hints of an entire world beneath the academy¡¯s grounds. With a wordless glance and a gesture for me to follow, we both began our descent downwards. ¡°Watch your step! None of this was designed with anyone but me in mind, so I wouldn¡¯t want to be responsible for what happens to those fleshy insides should it plummet down a good two hundred or so feet!¡± The man announced jovially, acknowledging the distressing lack of any handrails or safety precautions that would¡¯ve caused an OSHA inspector to go red in the face. Whilst the sheer drop was nausea inducing, it didn¡¯t bother me too much. On the logical side of things, I was assured by the fact that the suit''s exoskeleton automatically compensated for each and every step. With any misstep or oversight on my part, simply overridden by its auto compensators. On the psychological side of things however, I honestly wasn¡¯t too bothered either. All of those hours of recreational rooftop activities during middle and high school, and the compulsory training at the IAS in dealing with the psychological effects of height-sensitive operations, had made the sight of a sheer drop only mildly worrying. To be honest, anyone who grew up in Acela with an ounce of interest in hobbies involving the outdoors, would already have been used to heights and vertigo. You would¡¯ve had to, since most of the actual outdoor public spaces were typically zoned atop of megatower rooftops or the purpose-built elevated sections of the city. ¡°Just a few more steps, we¡¯re almost there!¡± The armorer shouted back with a reassuring huff. After a few more minutes of non-stop descent, I was eventually led out from the staircase and onto an elevated scaffolding that was raised twenty or so feet above an expansive room. A room that just seemed to go on forever in every possible direction. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 1000% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS And one that was practically bathed in mana-radiation from so many distinct sources that the HUD found it easier to collate it all into a neat stack of notifications. Though after a quick glance at everything, it soon became clear just what these sources were. Within the cavernous space were rows upon rows of what I could only describe as micro-forges, each generating an incredible amount of light and heat that was compounded by how closely packed all of them were. Little self-contained work benches were spread amongst them, and what appeared to be a series of minecarts further connected each of these workstations together. Each station seemed to be focused on the forging of a particular aspect of a weapon. I could see parts of blades, pommels, handguards, and various other pieces of an endless variety of pre-gunpowder era weaponry being crafted by hand. Or rather, by armored hands. As each and every station was manned by what I could only describe was miniature, simplified versions of the armorer. The weapons being forged seemed to follow this trend of simplification as well. As the bits and pieces of weaponry weren¡¯t anywhere nearly as intricate as the ones above. There were no written inscriptions, no fancy engravings, not even the gold trimmings or finishings that I¡¯d expected from a magical weapon. Instead, they seemed to be rather plain and simple. Well crafted, sure, but still plain. Everything here was forged and crafted by hand, then sent along a predetermined path via autonomous carts, pushed along through means unknown, towards what I could only describe as assembly benches. Where beings of armor about the same size as the armorer himself, but lacking in the detailing department, assembled each piece together before loading them up and sending them off further down the line. It didn¡¯t take long for me to realize what all this was. The ramifications of this were just starting to sink in as I felt the man¡¯s hollow glove landing on my shoulder with a dull thunk. ¡°This is-¡± ¡°This is a manufactorium, Emma Booker.¡± The man spoke with glee. ¡°For you see, each handsome golem you see there? Well, they¡¯re parts of me. Or more specifically, they¡¯re fragments. Aspects of my memory and experiences that have been extracted and imbued with a single task in mind, and a single role to perform, with just enough of the knowledge required to do so.¡± The man began, as he leaned against one of the few pieces of railing that existed on this elevated platform. ¡°You see, Emma Booker, any realm can birth legendary blacksmiths. Such as yours, clearly, as who else could have been responsible for the immaculate craftsmanship of the armor I see before me? The problem, however, lies in what happens when that skill inevitably meets its untimely demise, and-, well I¡¯m getting a bit ahead of myself here.¡± The man hastily corrected himself, diverting the trajectory of the conversation. This marked perhaps one of the first few instances of discretion I¡¯d seen from the man so far. ¡°The problem also lies in what happens if you need more than what a lone smith can produce, as the inherent limitations of manpower starts to limit the potential of any fledgling civilization desiring greatness.¡± I could hear a slyness beginning to form in the man¡¯s voice, as it was clear that if he still had a face, he¡¯d be grinning with pride right about now. ¡°This is what we smiths, artificers, forgers, and enchanters have dedicated our lives to solving, and it is with our collective efforts that we¡¯ve managed to go beyond merely solving this little predicament. For we now live in an era where the gifts and skills, the talents and experiences, the magical potential of an individual is no longer bound to that one person. Why, it would be a shame for someone like myself to be relegated to producing ten swords a day would it not? That rate of smithing wouldn¡¯t be remotely enough to arm a squad of outer guardsman.¡± He made a point of putting a hand to where his mouth should have been in an exaggerated display of faux-indignity. ¡°This is where manufactoriums come in. It allows for the mass proliferation of the magical gifts, the learned skills, and the time-tested experiences of a single master weaponsmith, to be disseminated amongst hundreds of thousands of hands. It allows for a contemporary civilization to even exist in the first place. It takes the small pool of those talented and gifted, and expands on them tens, hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands, or even millions of times over! This does, of course, heavily depend on the skills, systems, and spells in place. Though the goal is ultimately the same: to multiply the reach of magic, by allowing the proliferation of artifices on a grand scale.¡± The armorer¡¯s voice grew louder and louder throughout his boisterous speech, causing the platform to quite literally shake as a part of his show of theatrics. Even after it was all over, I could hear parts of the speech still echoing throughout the seemingly endless cavern. At the end of it all, I was stunned. Not because of the scale of industry before me of course. But because of the fact that the Nexus was even capable of any industry, or even the concept of mass production to begin with. This changes things. And brings into question what I¡¯d been able to discern from the likes of Thacea and Thalmin thus far. As all of this stood in stark contrast to the advancement and scale of society the pair seemed to be hinting at throughout all of our interactions. ¡°Sorecar, forgive me if I¡¯m confused or something here, but aside from my own realm, don¡¯t all other adjacent realms have mana and thus magic?¡± ¡°That is correct, Emma Booker!¡± The man beamed back. ¡°Then I need you to clarify something for me. Earlier today, one of my peers had mentioned something about the Nexian Outer Guard. The specifics of the conversation currently elude me, but I digress.¡± Okay Emma, calm down, you¡¯re starting to scare me with the flowery language here. SIOP says you¡¯re supposed to match the local dialect, not compete in it. A part of me thought to myself. ¡°The way they spoke of the Outer Guard gave off the implication that their own realms were somehow unable to field armies to a similar standard. If all adjacent realms have magic, then surely the extent of how well-equipped the Outer Guard is shouldn¡¯t be surprising to them, correct?¡± I asked. A part of me wanted to be upfront about it, as all I wanted to do was to ask why Thacea and Thalmin had been stumped by the concept of mass production if there was already a magical equivalent. Though phrasing it like that would mean I¡¯d be giving away hints of Earth¡¯s capabilities before I was ready to divulge it. ¡°Hah! They¡¯re adjacent realmers like yourself, Emma Booker.¡± The man answered without a hint of hesitation. ¡°Adjacent realmers, even ones that have been partnered to the Nexus for tens of thousands of years, still lack the capacity to do what we do here in the Nexus. With all that being said, it isn¡¯t surprising why your newfound peers hold our Outer Guardsman in such high regards, since no equivalent exists beyond the Nexus.¡± Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Since no equivalent exists beyond the Nexus¡­ All of this began making so much sense. The concentration of production, the accumulation and buildup of manufacturing capabilities, all of it through a bastardized version of conventional industrialization¡­ if the Nexus really was the only one capable of this, then it was obvious why they¡¯d managed to come out on top. And this wasn¡¯t even accounting for whatever magical ace-in-the-hole they had in the form of their actual magic-users. However, despite its impressiveness, all of this did raise another question. Why didn¡¯t the other adjacent realms just copy- ¡°I apologize if I¡¯ve been too headstrong and overly enthusiastic about this entire state of affairs, Emma Booker.¡± The man quickly added, pulling me out of my next train of thought. ¡°I¡¯d just assumed that since you seemed enthusiastic to learn more about the true underpinnings of our advanced magical society, that you¡¯d be alright with my tirades. Which, admittedly, can come across as a tad bit too intensive in some regards.¡± The man offered. The over apologeticness was a welcome break from what could¡¯ve quickly devolved into another Ilunor-like spat. If the lizard were here, or heck, if any other member of the faculty was here to give me the tour, I assumed that we¡¯d be neck deep in an intense monologue or speech about how vastly superior the Nexus was and how Earthrealm was probably just a bunch of thatched huts next to a river or something. The fact that the armorer was at least self-aware of how condescending these speeches could go was a breath of fresh air. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Sorecar.¡± I managed out. ¡°It¡¯s just a lot to take in, is all.¡± I spoke, omitting a lot in the process, including my rampant desires to make flat-out comparisons of this manufactorium to Earth and the Ind-Net. ¡°I can imagine it must be quite overwhelming, in which case, I¡¯m thankful that your first exposure to a manufactorium was here at the Academy and not some place else within the Nexus.¡± He candidly remarked. Which sparked an entirely new line of questioning in my head. ¡°So this sort of thing isn¡¯t uncommon in the Nexus?¡± I continued asking, digging into the specifics now. ¡°Just how commonplace are manufactoriums?¡± Something that the EVI was probably eager to listen in on. ¡°Ah, hah. That¡¯s¡­ Apologies, Emma Booker. Tackling that question is indeed a tricky one. I do not know the specifics myself, as I only know of known-manufactoriums, not crown-manufactoriums. In addition, I¡­¡± The man paused, making this the second time he¡¯d purposefully halted himself mid-speech. Which, given his track record so far, could only mean one of two things. Either he realized what he was about to get into warranted some level of discretion, or he was getting into territory that hit him hard emotionally. ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t say for certain.¡± He finally managed to utter out with a despondent sigh. ¡°And no, this isn¡¯t a matter of discretion or anything of the sort. I just genuinely lack the knowledge necessary to tell you.¡± Earnest as it was, it seemed like that was the extent of his reasoning. He looked away from me, that enthusiasm in his movements now mellowed out as he stopped to stare into the fiery greater forge in this room. ¡°You see, when I said I was bound to the Academy, I truly did mean it in every capacity of the word. For not only am I physically restricted to the grounds within its walls, but so too am I unable to socially project myself beyond my narrow sliver of relevance and utility.¡±Sorecar flexed his fingers in one hand, before raising his shoulder pads in a laid-back shrug. ¡°Thus, correspondences to the world beyond the Academy are few and far in between. The only exceptions to this rule are the various Weapons Fairs of the Nexus, but even that has its limitations. For the Academy sends not myself, but a representative on my behalf alongside weapons of my design. As a result, this small window into the world is made even smaller as all I hear back are cherry-picked details. Rarely do I hear anything pertaining to the trade, let alone any solid numbers to speak of.¡± He took another deep breath, placing a single hand to his helmet¡¯s visor, mimicking how someone might pinch the bridge of their nose in deep thought. ¡°Though, as a rough estimate, the last Weapons Festival had a total of ten thousand applicants, in which only one thousand were chosen for candidacy for the Crowns¡¯ Fair. Which would imply that there¡¯s at least ten thousand currently in existence.¡± The man ended his lengthy tirade with the same despondent sigh he¡¯d started it with. A sigh which just didn¡¯t sit right with me, as my concern began to grow. And it wasn¡¯t because of the number of factories, even with the low-ball estimate of ten-thousand. Those were rookie numbers, and it made the Nexus¡¯ manufacturing output to be something more comparable to pre-intrasolar Earth. No, what bothered me was the sheer unfairness of it all. Of a person having to deal with five thousand whole years of living in the shadow of his work, without once being able to actually enjoy the best part of it. Seeing it in action with a crowd cheering on. With all of that being said, an idea quickly began manifesting in the back of my gremlin mind. An idea that, while kind of dumb, was at least worth trying. Or at the very least, being put to writing. A field trip was now on the table. ¡°EVI.¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Add a new questline: Find a way to get Sorecar to this year¡¯s, or next year¡¯s, or whichever year¡¯s Weapons Fair.¡± ¡°Error: Unknown Request. Clarify, what do you mean by add new questline?¡± The AI shot back with an attitude. ¡°Just, make it a memo. A memo with an indefinite time limit. God knows I already have enough on my fucking plate as it is.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Memo added. Would you like to set priority?¡± ¡°Not yet, but remind me like sometime after we get the crate back or someone blows up.¡± ¡°Acknowledged, Cadet Booker.¡± The fact that the idea was actually now saved somewhere in the back of the EVI¡¯s dataspace satisfied me for now. However, it was clear Sorecar was once again starting to worry, if his twiddling fingers were any indication. My brief bouts of silence probably weren¡¯t doing this whole newrealmer is in complete shock at the Nexus¡¯ capabilities stereotype any favors. Though to be fair¡­ perhaps that was a good thing? It did help with my aims of keeping any hints of humanity¡¯s capabilities under wraps as best as possible. ¡°Emma Booker, are you-¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine, Sorecar, sorry. I was lost in thought. All of this is just so incredibly¡­ surprising.¡± I acknowledged, diving into the lie of omission territory yet again. ¡°That¡¯s quite alright, take all the time you need, Emma Booker.¡± The man reassured me, speaking in a tone that actually felt heartfelt and genuine, a far cry from most of my interactions with the faculty so far. ¡°Thanks Sorecar.¡± I returned politely, before getting back into the intel-gathering driver¡¯s seat. ¡°But there is something else that¡¯s starting to bother me.¡± ¡°And what is that?¡± The man responded with a simple head-tilt. Now was time for the trillion dollar question. One that¡¯d help me hit my threat assessment report right out of the park. ¡°You mentioned how there¡¯s at least ten thousand manufactoriums out there, so that got me thinking¡­ Why do you need so many?¡± I asked without hesitation. To which the armorer, yet again, replied without missing a single beat. ¡°It¡¯s not just about arming more soldiers, or simply expanding the guard, Emma Booker.¡± He began, before drifting into yet another tangent. ¡°Though I admit, the scale of smithing and production is necessary, as the outer guardsman of a single Nexian Duchy typically numbers somewhere in the hundreds of thousands.¡± Before once again, getting back on topic. ¡°But beyond that, more than that really, it¡¯s about maintenance.¡± The man concluded simply, before vaguely gesturing at an entire section of the factory. ¡°More than half of the manufactorium is dedicated to repair and re-enchantment work. The fact of the matter is, since these weapons are being given to those with a mana-field but lacking in the ability to manipulate mana, the weapons instead need to rely on either their own source of mana or the surrounding environmental mana to sustain their magic. In the case of the former, they¡¯re equipped with mana-ducts, which allows for the weapon to draw directly from a portable mana ampoule. Whilst in the case of the latter, the weapon instead draws from the surrounding mana to power its spells. Regardless of which method is used, both cause severe strain on the weapon. This strain can be as mild as an atrophy of the core, causing the weapon to become permanently inert. Or it can be as severe as a mana-channeling dysfunction, causing the weapon to fail catastrophically. As a result of this, most manufactoriums are dedicated to around-the-clock maintenance work. It¡¯s the unglamorous side of the magic-fueled world we live in. And it¡¯s one often overlooked by the elites of the adjacent realms as they chase after flashy spells, and not long-term investments such as these.¡± To say that answer was nothing short of enlightening would¡¯ve been an understatement. My whole metaphor of this being industrialized magic really was more accurate than I had initially thought. Whilst this was a lot to take in, it probably didn¡¯t even come close to what it would¡¯ve felt like being introduced to all of this as a typical newrealmer. Especially if they¡¯d arrived fresh from a medieval world with a lesser advanced state of magic. Being introduced to a magical equivalent of a ye olde factory as a human just didn''t have that same effect. However, it didn¡¯t need to, for me to be on my toes. The fact that the factory even existed in the first place threw off my general assumptions about the Nexus. With that one assumption thrown off, everything else was fair game, who knows what other ¡®fantasy conventions¡¯ would be thrown out the window? I couldn¡¯t just dismiss the Nexus¡¯ defense credibility just yet, especially as my mission involved assessing any and all potential threats on this side of the portal with extreme scrutiny. For as much as I was learning about the Nexus right now, this was only a small, tiny glimpse into what was so clearly a much bigger picture. Which led me to my next point, one that tied back to an earlier topic that¡¯d been derailed earlier by the armorer. ¡°You say that these sorts of investments are often overlooked by the nobles attending the Academy.¡± I began, jumping straight off of the armorer¡¯s throwaway statements. ¡°And you also stated earlier that the Adjacent Realms lack the capacity to do what you do here in the Nexus, at least in terms of manufacturing and production.¡± I carefully prodded, before pinning both of my arms to my side with a slight cock of my head. ¡°I just find it hard to believe that¡¯s possible.¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± Sorecar reared his whole body back, clearly not anticipating this sort of rebuttal after what felt like a flurry of non stop lecturing. ¡°It¡¯s been thousands of years, surely the knowledge of these manufactoriums have spread to at least someone in one of the Adjacent Realms?¡± ¡°Well, yes, I do not dispute that. A select few of course, but, I digress. I¡¯ve actually conducted this tour a few times before the war.¡± The man paused, as if realizing where I was going with this, as he started changing his tune. ¡°Though the possession of knowledge, does not directly translate to its replication somewhere else.¡± ¡°Over the course of a lifetime? Perhaps not, but if the idea is there, then wouldn¡¯t the code be cracked with enough time? I mean, I¡¯d assume some adjacent realms have been connected to the Nexus for tens of thousands of years now, correct?¡± I shot back. ¡°Correct, and if this were any other matter, say the creation of an nth level golem, or certain planar-level spells, then you would most certainly be in the right, Emma Booker. However¡­ this issue goes beyond a mere deficit in knowledge, willpower, time, or even political capital. This is a matter which relates to the very fundamental nature of the adjacent realms themselves.¡± The man spoke emphatically, gesticulating less wildly than before, making it clear that at some point he would¡¯ve made for a pretty good lecturer. ¡°You see, the Adjacent Realms cannot replicate a manufactorium, because they lack the richness of mana that is present in the Nexus. So even if they do manage to find a means of safe memory-infusion, and even if they had all of my trade secrets, the scarcity of mana simply wouldn¡¯t allow for the fragments below us to exist in the first place. Not to mention the mana required for everything else you don¡¯t see happening within the manufactorium¡¯s walls.¡± I needed a moment to process that, as I went silent for a few solid seconds. So the issue wasn¡¯t just scale, nor was it a pure lack of knowledge. Those could be overcome with time. No, the issue here ran deeper than that. It was the nature of the adjacent realms themselves. Which more or less fit what Belnor had mentioned during orientation, that the whole five day grace period thing was a mandatory break in order for the bodies of adjacent realmers to adapt to the richer air of mana in the Nexus. Come to think of it, even the Apprentice made note of this during her whole attempt to cover up the sudden burst of mana radiation during breakfast. As she mentioned how such things were possible given how much richer the Nexus was in mana. ¡°So it¡¯s an outright physical impossibility.¡± I mumbled out, as I regarded my next question carefully. There was just one more thing that bugged me. One more aspect of this whole trip that I wanted to address now. ¡°Sorecar.¡± ¡°Yes Emma Booker?¡± ¡°You mentioned how the last tour you did of this place was sometime before the war. So I have to ask: am I even allowed in here?¡± ¡°In the case of the typical newrealmer? I¡¯d have to file a proper request to the dean or the vice dean.¡± ¡°So, you¡¯re breaking the rules a bit by allowing me to be here?¡± ¡°Simply put, yes, Emma Booker.¡± I paused at that, realizing that given the context of the draconian society that was the Academy, that this was a much bigger deal than it probably would be back on Earth. ¡°Why?¡± I managed out. ¡°It¡¯s really quite simple, Emma Booker. For one, I merely wish to reciprocate your enthusiasm for learning. Rarely do I have an opportunity to educate others in my field of expertise. So I¡¯m taking it upon myself to¡­ bend the rules and decorum somewhat.¡± The man nodded a few times to emphasize this point, his tonal shift reflecting his genuine desire just for a conversation. ¡°And two? Anything I say here will be of absolutely no use for you in your realm. As all of this.¡± He gestured once more to the factory. ¡°Is impossible to accomplish without mana. In short, I do not need approval from the faculty, as I find there to be no risk in bringing up and discussing any of these topics. As without any mana to speak of, replicating the very concept of a manufactorium, and the subsequent scale of its production, is simply an impossibility.¡± I would be lying if I didn¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t feeling the unrepentant urge to take Sorecar, stuff him in one of my crates, and bring him back with me for the summer holidays. If only he could get a sneak peek into the megafoundries in EarthRing, or the megaforges of the belt, or perhaps even the Jovian Stellar Foundries. If only he knew the truth. Chapter 29: No Full-Auto in the Building! The rest of the tour around the manufactorium was just one big test of my resolve. We¡¯d walked, ducked, weaved, and meandered our way through much of the line, and throughout it all, I wanted nothing more than to describe in vivid detail all of Earth¡¯s industrial accomplishments to Sorecar. But that would¡¯ve been way too much, and much too early. And whilst I appreciated that the guy had gone through the effort of skirting around a good number of rules just to show me his prized factory, that didn¡¯t change the fact that he was still inextricably tied to the faculty. What¡¯s more, there was still the fact that he was somehow bound to the place in one way or another; and if the academy¡¯s taught me anything, it¡¯s that the word bound was short for a massive red flag. There would be time for us to build up our trust, and more hoops and bounds to go through to see just how far I could really entrust Sorecar with knowledge on Earth and its industries. Until then, I¡¯d have to maintain some level of discretion. At least, as far as it went with regards to anything explicitly outside of the scope of the weapons inspection. ¡°Aaaand phew! That just about wraps it up! I apologize for the steps Emma Booker, I can¡¯t imagine how much effort must be exerted to get up all of these flights of stairs. I mean, I sincerely cannot imagine it, as my memories of a time when I still had lungs to gasp and wheeze with are quite vague and rather fuzzy.¡± Sorecar spoke without even a hint of exhaustion, yet mimed the clutching of his nonexistent chest underneath his chestplate just for the heck of it, as we crested the top of the spiral staircase and back into the workshop proper. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Sorecar. My cardio game is still on point.¡± I managed out with a few huffed breaths. The suit did help a fair bit, but given the fact that we were close to entering the early hours of the morning, the exhaustion really was starting to get to me. I began instinctively leaning into and against the insides of the suit again. Using certain nooks and ergonomically placed notches to reposition myself, giving me the sensation of tossing and turning in a particularly tight, rigid sleepsack. To an outside observer, the armor would remain at its ¡®default¡¯ position, standing perfectly still, with both arms held rigidly by its side. Inside, however, I was using this rigidity to my advantage as I began slouching inside of the suit. It was a ¡®trick¡¯ that had started out in the early days of power armor, before making its way into unofficial field manuals, then finally becoming entirely official when the requisitions department caught on and requested that all future models be made with these design features in mind; features which allowed for in-armor positional reorientation. ¡°Your fitness regimen certainly is something to be admired.¡± The armorer responded candidly. So that¡¯s what the EVI translated ¡®cardio game¡¯ into. Thanks EVI. I quickly thought to myself with a mental chuckle. ¡°I¡¯ve seen my fair share of staff and students alike struggling to get past two flights of stairs, and here you are, standing as still as a statue even after the whole ordeal!¡± The armorer boomed out, before shifting his helmet¡¯s ¡®gaze¡¯ towards the collection of pouches that lined my waist, and the holster that kept the star of tonight¡¯s show safe and tucked away. ¡°Seeing that I¡¯ve taken up so much of the time that you could¡¯ve used to rest and recuperate, I believe it¡¯s only fair that we get this formality out of the way as quickly as possible.¡± The man offered with a friendly tune to his voice. I let out a deep breath of relief, as we finally reached the original purpose of my visit here in the first place. This whole thing was supposed to be a quick in and out mission after all. Yet it somehow evolved into a hearts and minds operation, before developing into an unintended info-gathering side mission that I was going to have a joy writing up once I got the rest of my tent and the dreaded field computer set up. ¡°You have my back when it comes to the bulk of the observation notes, don¡¯t you, EVI?¡± I spoke inside my helmet, practically pleading now, as the sheer magnitude of the field report that loomed overhead started to truly dawn on me. ¡°I am unable to provide a definitive answer due to the nature of the question¡¯s open-ended parameters, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s why they don¡¯t call you a virtual assistant.¡± I mumbled under my breath. My attention quickly turned back to Sorecar, as I shifted from my in-armor positional reorientation mode and back into work-mode. ¡°Of course.¡± I answered with an affirmative nod. ¡°So, is there a specific way you¡¯d like me to go about this, or a certain set of parameters you¡¯d like to touch on when it comes to the inspection?¡± I purposefully asked, because whilst Thalmin had given me the brief rundown of what he¡¯d experienced with Sorecar, I knew for a fact things could be very different when it came to my inspection. I just needed to determine just how much and how far I was going to go about discussing the ¡®ceremonial weapon¡¯. ¡°Well, there¡¯s not much to it to be quite frank. All I really need to hear is a general description of the weapon, its name, its maker if you know of them. I know some nobles simply own legendary weapons without so much as giving the people responsible for them a second thought.¡± The man huffed out, before moving on just as quickly upon realizing he¡¯d inadvertently sprung up another tangent. ¡°In any case, I need to know what kind of weapon it is, what it¡¯s supposed to do, and¡­¡± He began trailing off, before shrugging. ¡°Your weapon is mana-less correct?¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± I nodded once for effect. ¡°Then I don¡¯t really see much else we can discuss. Normally I¡¯d inquire further, to determine just how a weapon functions along with all of its internal enchantments, however given the fact that your weapon is of a mana-less variety everything should be quite straightforward. There really shouldn¡¯t be much more than what can be discerned with the naked eye in this particular case.¡± Sorecar spoke with a certain level of impartiality. Not so much talking down at the idea of a mana-less weapon, but not quite excited for it either. Which I could easily tell, given how this came just hot off the heels of the rollercoaster ride of excitement that he had when displaying his own lineup of toys. ¡°Though to be fair, Emma Booker, even when I do ask for a detailed explanation of the inner mechanisms behind a particularly interesting enchanted weapon, most students just end up unable to answer anyways. Most are here to learn after all, so I don¡¯t really hold it against them.¡± He raised a single hand, towards my holster. ¡°So please, proceed.¡± I didn¡¯t need any more prompting as my hand glided towards the magnetic holster, this time without flinching. I smiled a little bit at that, as it meant that I hadn¡¯t yet lost it after a single battle. I pulled out the pistol with little hesitation, in fact, I was filled with an intense thrill of excitement that was once again only tempered by the realization that I had to keep the details vague, but accurate enough to satisfy the armorer. It would be a balancing act that was much trickier to pull off when compared to the conversation earlier in the night with Thacea and Thalmin, as in that situation all I really had to deal with was the issues that came with fundamental systemic incongruency. It was a whole other ballgame with the armorer, as I had to balance that, alongside discretion. ¡°We call this particular type of weapon a pistol.¡± I began in earnest, as I held out the sleek timeless design of one of the last tried and proven chemical-based kinetic weapons out for the armorer to see. The weapon looked just about right in my hands, not comically small as most pistols were prone to be in the hands of a power armor user, but not overly large that it would be classified as a weapon exclusive to exoskeleton-frame use. With the grip angled at a sleek 18 degrees, positioned nearly square to the slide, most likened its general appearance to another timeless classic that practically defined the birth of the semi-automatic pistol. In fact, it was quite fitting that both guns were aesthetically similar, as both had service lives which practically mirrored one another. Namely: both refused to see an official end to their service lives in their own respective eras. ¡°The name of this particular pistol is the GSP-225c, originating from a forge known as the Luna Defense Arms, a name widely known and well regarded within our realm. As for the maker of this weapon?¡± They¡¯re both dead, and have been dead for nearly five centuries now. ¡°Well, makers in this case. I believe it was a joint venture between a certain Dr. Alisson Cooper and a Dr. Richard Li.¡± I continued truthfully for now, at least satisfying Sorecar¡¯s clear bias towards respecting the craftsmen behind the craft. The armorer¡¯s whole helmet had perked up with interest from the moment he¡¯d first laid eyes on the pistol. In addition, he¡¯d been taking small, calculated steps towards me as I started my little spiel, and was now all but mere inches away from my face, his gaze was now fully transfixed on the gun I held in my hands. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a design quite this unique~.¡± The man spoke earnestly, his interest clearly piqued. ¡°I will be honest, Emma Booker, from the looks of your holster I¡¯d assumed the weapon to be a simple blade or perhaps even a strangely shaped portable axe, or even a club. The design of this¡­ pistol is most certainly exotic. You have my attention, so please, proceed.¡± The man urged. I didn¡¯t need much prompting as I moved onto the next point. As we finally got out of the superficial fluff and into the meat of things. Which meant things were about to get complicated. ¡°As for the kind of weapon this is?¡± I began, continuing off of the armorer¡¯s short grocery list of requirements to tick off. ¡°I believe the most apt way to describe it would be ranged.¡± I stated simply, which seemed to irk Sorecar even more as he cocked his head from side to side with an even greater sense of befuddlement. ¡°Ranged?¡± He parotted back, before shifting his whole body, bending down, swaying this way and that, as if to get as many closeups as he could of the weapon I held comfortably in my gloved hands. ¡°But I see no drawstrings, no visible apparatuses for charging and firing a projectile. At least not without mana. I- oh!¡± The man halted mid-sentence, punctuating the ¡®eureka¡¯ moment with a resonant metallic clang as both of his hands clapped together with a renewed vigor. ¡°I figured it out!¡± He spoke with an unwavering level of confidence that took me completely by surprise. Wait what? Did he actually figure it out? I felt as if I¡¯d just been suckerpunched by a freight hauler, as my overactive imagination began going wild with theories. Perhaps the Nexus did have a history of firearms at one point or another? Maybe it was a developmental dead-end here, considering magic weapons could outpace the growing pains of actually going through the decades and centuries of grueling, dangerous, refinement? Sorecar was five thousand years old after all, maybe he¡¯d seen it, or perhaps heard of it at one point or another? You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. I held my breath, eagerly awaiting the man¡¯s conclusion. As this one simple statement could come to redefine just what the Nexus was capable of. ¡°It¡¯s a boomerang, isn¡¯t it?¡± The man practically beamed out, with a voice that could only be paired with a wide smile. I almost dropped my fricking gun as I heard that. As it felt like all of the buildup, all of the tension, everything had been defused and deflated with a dull pathetic whimper. ¡°A boomerang?¡± I uttered back in disbelief, at the man who was now back to standing at full height with both of his hands straddling his hips in a display of unbridled certainty. ¡°Yes! A boomerang, one of those one-handed ranged and reusable throwing weapons that doesn¡¯t require mana to function or to even return back to its user! Quite an ingenious design! And most certainly something I have logged in the long repertoire of weapons I have stored away in here.¡± He tapped the side of his helmet where his brain should¡¯ve been. I took a moment to compose myself. My mind was going blank, unable to really process what I¡¯d just heard. Was he serious? I started to feel the tell-tale signs of unrestrained laughter starting to tickle my insides. As I couldn¡¯t help but to all but break down at the mental image of a gun being used as a fricking boomerang. In fact, I just had to see it now. ¡°EVI, could you please predict and visualize the trajectory of the 225 if we were to throw it like a boomerang?¡± ¡°... parsing request¡­ query: what is the purpose of this request for memory allocation for the intended simulation?¡± ¡°Just curiosity is all.¡± I could barely contain my laughter now as I made doubly sure that I wasn¡¯t broadcasting this via the vocoders. ¡°I am unable to comply with this request, Emma Booker. I have deemed it superfluous and an inappropriate use of limited processing power.¡± I sighed out in despair, shooing the EVI away with a flick of my eyeballs, before shifting my gaze back towards a clearly excitable Sorecar, who looked as if he was just waiting for me to confirm his suspicions. Which I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to doing, even if I wanted to play this whole thing off vaguely. ¡°I¡¯m afraid it¡¯s not a boomerang, Sorecar.¡± I managed out in between a nervous cough. ¡°Oh? But you did say it was ranged, and with the way this pistol is curved in two distinct sections, with no visible projectiles to speak of, I¡¯d assumed that the entire form itself is a weapon.¡± The man spoke with an affable honesty that I just felt bad shooting down. ¡°I can see where you¡¯re coming from.¡± I started, willing to meet half way with that line of logic. ¡°And I can definitely understand how you came to that conclusion, if we were to look at it purely from an aesthetics point of view. However, I¡¯m afraid that the actual operating mechanisms behind this weapon are all on the inside. This includes the projectiles, the charging and firing mechanisms, and everything else.¡± I managed out carefully, making sure to reuse and repeat his own terminologies whenever and wherever possible. The armorer¡¯s body language shifted at that answer. He didn¡¯t immediately address it, which given the man¡¯s track record of speaking as soon as anything came to mind, meant that he was actually giving it some serious thought. ¡°Internal mechanisms, of a mana-less variety, inside of a box that size?¡± He shot back, not so much in disbelief, but with a clear degree of skepticism. ¡°Correct. Though the specifics of it are rather long-winded.¡± I attempted to carefully skirt past the concept of gunpowder for the sake of ensuring that little nugget of knowledge wasn¡¯t let loose on a whim. ¡°And of course, certain aspects of it elude me, as many of the finer details of legendary weapons are indeed kept close and under guard to the smiths that have forged them.¡± I attempted to keep my tone as level as possible, tensing tight as I could feel the spirits of both Doctors Cooper and Li practically slapping me upside the back of my head for calling them smiths. ¡°Though what I can say, from what I do know, is that the weapon houses a number of projectiles housed in a section close to the handle.¡± I began pointing as I spoke. ¡°And it shoots these projectiles down and through its barrel, then, towards its target.¡± I continued moving my finger across the gun, highlighting the brief journey a bullet took through the gun. The armorer¡¯s response was once again, one of genuine interest and intrigue as he carefully mimed the motions of beard-stroking with one hand, whilst keeping the other firmly by his side. ¡°Quite a novelty indeed.¡± The man began cautiously. ¡°Emma Booker, would you mind if I cast a detection spell on that weapon?¡± I flinched nervously, the request catching me by complete surprise. ¡°What would that entail?¡± I snapped back almost immediately. ¡°Nothing that would dishonor the unspoken pact between weaponsmiths, I assure you.¡± Sorecar spoke with a level of firmness. ¡°I understand the anxiety and concern, but unlike a great deal of disreputable swindlers out in the Adjacent Townships, I merely wish to cast a spell of detection, and not a spell of deep-insight.¡± I cocked my head to the side, readying a question that was answered before it could even be voiced. ¡°To clarify, Emma Booker, the former is merely meant to detect the general composition of an object in relation to its mana-field and the environmental mana, whilst the latter is meant to pierce deep into an object, able to discern the individual strands of organic cores and their different intertwining mechanisms.¡± The man explained further, as I took a few seconds to carefully regard this unexpected development. ¡°Fine.¡± I stated simply, holding out the gun as the man moved his hands around it slowly, and methodically. This was, expectedly, followed up by a sudden uptick in mana radiation. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS But not to the degree of most of the ¡®spells¡¯ he¡¯d casted so far. ¡°Strange.¡± The man spoke absentmindedly. ¡°Remarkably strange.¡± He continued, his helmet cocking to the side once more as he seemed to be trying his best to get to whatever conclusion he was working up towards. ¡°It¡¯s as lackluster as a peasant¡¯s kitchen knife.¡± He paused once more, before halting whatever it was he was doing with those hands, getting up close and personal, practically coming into contact with the gun with the brim of his helmet. An intrusive thought urged me to push the whole thing into the open and empty visor that was his eyes. Thankfully I didn¡¯t listen to it. ¡°Yet it¡¯s as masterfully crafted and meticulously detailed as a dagger from a crown-manufactorium.¡± He added paradoxically. ¡°I¡¯m not following.¡± I stated plainly. ¡°The lack of mana, Emma Booker. The lack of any discernible mana, puts me in mind of the tools you might find on a common peasant¡¯s tool rack. Yet the attention to exterior craftsmanship places it amongst the many showpieces you would see within the home of a crownlands¡¯ nobleman. I must admit, I am at great odds with the¡­ peculiarities of what you currently hold in your hands.¡± The man admitted. ¡°When you have no mana to work with, you push for innovation in other fields, Sorecar.¡± I stated plainly, and with little in the way of arrogant pretenses. ¡°Earthrealm, and humanity, has never sat idly by, allowing our limitations to define us. Instead, we push past those limitations through innovation, and we do the best we can with what we have. And in doing so, we¡¯re able to accomplish a great many things.¡± I continued, before shifting to end my little vague explanation. ¡°You can say we traversed the road less taken.¡± ¡°Indeed¡­ and dare I say it, you¡¯ve traversed it well for a mana-less peoples.¡± Sorecar openly admitted. ¡°With that being said, I find no issue in granting your ceremonial weapon a certification of approval for carry and personal protection within the castle grounds, and beyond it.¡± The man concluded suddenly and without warning. Which prompted me to do a complete double take, staring blankly at the man in disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°That¡¯s it. The purpose of the weapons inspection is to assess the danger of the ceremonial weapons brought over from adjacent realms. With this being a mana-less weapon, even if it is well crafted, and even if it is ranged, I find it to be no more dangerous than the legendary weapons brought over by the likes of your typical adjacent nobleman.¡± Sorecar nodded firmly. ¡°I am speaking in my capacity as the school¡¯s armorer, Emma Booker.¡± The man quickly added, as something else clearly felt¡­ off about the whole exchange. His tone, his general disposition, everything seemed to have taken a massive shift from the excitable and genuinely curious armorer somewhere along the inspection. But with the mark of approval, and with his clear insistence that what¡¯s done is done, I couldn¡¯t help but to feel both a general sense of unease, but also relief at the fact that the gun¡¯s true capabilities were still kept close within my immediate circle. ¡°Thank you?¡± I managed out awkwardly, looking around nervously now, as the sudden and abrupt end still took me entirely by surprise. ¡°No, thank you, Emma Booker. For being such an open and forthright soul.¡± He once more spoke earnestly, but with an unexpected curtness in his voice. ¡°Now, I think it¡¯s best that you leave for bed-¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 410% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS An alarm sounded, drowning out the world around me as it was followed up by yet another, more gut-churning notification. WARNING: [1] UNKNOWN TARGET DETECTED. My whole body froze, my field of view felt like it¡¯d just completely lost track of the armorer in front of me, as both my pupils were now squarely focused on the image being relayed by my rear-facing camera at the top of my HUD. TARGET REFERENCE: 40 FEET FROM CURRENT LOCATION. HIGHLIGHTING TARGET NOW. A third warning hit me in the span of barely a quarter of a second, as the outlines of a creature manifested in just about the same time, and another textbox soon found itself superimposed on top of that. TARGET REFERENCE CONFIRMED: 92.1% SUPERFICIAL LIKENESS TO CLASSIFICATION ¡®NULL¡¯. The automatic IFF systems reported, completing the perfect storm of alarms that I never thought would return this quickly. The whole world slowed to a crawl, and all I could hear at this point were the dull, echoey, thump thump thumps of my heartbeat, pulsating inside of my eardrums. I heard nothing else through the peak of adrenaline, with the only thing breaking through that haze being the sharp, shrill, digitally-synthesized alarms that were designed to break through this sort of thing. I didn¡¯t want to look at the thing. I didn¡¯t want to even think about its sickly, gray, pulsating membrane that shifted to and fro with every movement it made. The whole world receded now, as I turned around, back towards the armorer, and eyes front and center towards the literal object of my nightmares. The monster that refused to die. ¡°Emma!¡± I heard the armorer¡¯s voice shrieking out¡­ or was it the apprentice¡¯s? It felt like deja vu, a complete repeat of the late afternoon¡¯s fight. ¡°Stand down!¡± I heard another fragment of a sentence. One that sent me back to the garden, and another voice that told me to do the exact same thing. And how did that turn out? Badly, with only a grievously injured apprentice to show for it. I wasn¡¯t going to let it happen again. I raised my gun up to meet the static creature, feeling the suit¡¯s actuators nudge my aim as it corrected for the finer targeting details. TARGET IDENTIFIED. SPHEROID OBJECT, 0.12 INCHES IN DIAMETER. HIGHLIGHTING NOW. Not here. Its tendrils began seeping into every workbench, its translucent gray flesh began devouring everything in its sight, coating it in that same sickly skin. Not ever. SINGLE / BURST / [FULL-AUTO] This time, I couldn¡¯t let it get away. ¡°-Booker, stop!¡± It had to die. BRRRRRRT. All 25 rounds of my fresh magazine left the barrel before I even felt the recoil, and even then, the armor had compensated for it, refusing to deviate by even a quarter of a quarter of an inch. But this wasn¡¯t the garden, and I was reminded of that fact by the results of my actions¡­ As this time, the null had simply all but vanished without a trace. All of the alarms went yellow, error codes rang out, as every single system began desperately searching for the target that hadn¡¯t just collapsed, hadn¡¯t melted away anywhere, but had simply¡­ vanished. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A series of loud clangs soon followed, as every door, window, and hole in the room was closed shut and subsequently chained tight up by a series of metal bars that had appeared out of nowhere. ¡°Emma¡­ what¡­ what in the world was-.¡± The armorer stood there dumbfounded for a moment, his voice was shaky, as his helmet was once more completely transfixed by the still-smoking gun. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about the specifics of that later. Emma, whatever you just did must have scared them. But they¡¯re still here, so stay close to me.¡± His voice finally broke through my haze, as he walked up towards me and grabbed me tightly by the shoulder. ¡°Wait what? The n-, the creature, is it still here?!¡± I shouted, as I kept tapping at my wrist-mounted data-pad to restart and resume every scan I had available to me. ¡°No, but the foul trickster behind it still is.¡± The armorer responded, as he raised his hand, as if to scan the room using nothing but his palm. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 700% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°Trickster? What are you talking about?¡± ¡°The beast you saw wasn¡¯t an actual monster, or a threat. It was a projection. A good one at that, I¡¯ll give them that, but a projection all the same. Which means that the perpetrator behind this entire trick is still here, somewhere.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe what I was hearing, as I quickly took the opportunity to reload just in case. "The doors are locked." The man began, as he walked forward, making certain that every footfall was as loud and imposing as possible. "The windows are shut." He continued, tinting the windows further to emphasize his point. "And there''s no way to teleport out of here. I do not take kindly to unwelcome visitors to my part of the castle." He began to taunt, running his armored hand against the newly formed bars on the windows, generating a series of rhythmic clinks not too dissimilar to a xylophone. "I know I can''t flush you out using heat, but I can wait until you starve or thirst. So what''ll it be?" Chapter 30: The Basics of the Game There was a clear stark difference between the encounter at the garden, and the circumstances currently unfolding here in the workshop. With the former, the overwhelming mood was dominated by fear, all stemming from a lack of control. Of being hunted down whilst being on the defensive. With the latter, with how things were currently taking shape, it was the exact opposite. As the armorer immediately took to the offensive, locking everything down and tackling the situation with a vice grip, making sure to maximize the one key advantage he had over anything or anyone else here: control. As the workshop was the armorer¡¯s domain, a space that he had complete dominion over. And it showed¡­ just by the way he walked, as he strutted about the room with a menacing aura generating an equally menacing series of cold metallic footsteps. Clack. Clack. Clack. The sharp, hollow, metallic clacks of empty metal boots on solid stone was in equal measures ominous as it was deafening, especially without any other sounds to really drown or dampen them out. As all of the whooshing of self-igniting furnaces, the sizzling of quenching steel, and any other ambient noise had all but been put on hold as the room was placed into lockdown. Taken in a completely different context, the sound was nothing more than the footfalls of a grandfatherly figure, one who spent his pastimes busying himself by painting faces on melons. Taken in this context however? The sounds were nothing short of doom incarnate, as everything down to the man¡¯s stance had changed drastically from the lackadaisical persona that had dominated most of our hours-long interactions. ¡°Emma.¡± Sorecar announced loudly, ushering me along as he made his slow, meticulous scope of the now-barricaded room. It was only after I got within earshot of him did he finally speak freely. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS But not before establishing what I assumed to be another sound-dampening privacy screen. ¡°Stay close to me, and allow me to make the first maneuvers once we find this interloper.¡± The man announced calmly. ¡°Rest assured, this trickster-in-hiding is less of a threat than their advanced magic may lead you to believe. Indeed the reason why I¡¯m requesting that you remain close by is not because I foresee myself needing to protect you from the harm they may incur, but rather, I foresee a greater need to protect them from your strength and personal initiative.¡± The man announced with a certain level of cockiness coated in a layer of excitement. It was definitely a much more long-winded way of saying, I¡¯m not protecting you from them, but I¡¯m protecting them from you. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve been able to use one of my creations against a live target.¡± Sorecar announced ominously, as we made our way around the workshop, and towards the set of workstations from the weapons demonstration just a few hours earlier. He reached for the sword, picking it up, stopping to admire its craftsmanship as he craned his head back towards me with a single hand placed cheekily above where his mouth should¡¯ve been. ¡°Too much?¡± I knew not to respond to a rhetorical question when I heard one. ¡°Hah! Of course it is. Wouldn¡¯t want to slice up what could well be a student during the grace period after all now would we?¡± The man admitted slyly, as he placed the sword back down carefully, only to take a few steps forward towards the only non-lethal object here: the polearm. ¡°Ah yes, this will do very nicely!¡± He beamed out as we continued our careful, methodical pacing through the room. This time however, the armorer decided to break up the overbearing silence with a series of slow, rhythmic, marching-cadence-like taps; tapping the polearm¡¯s blunt end against the stone floor. It felt like he was just toying with the would-be prankster at this point, but while I would generally be sympathetic towards the plight of someone who just wanted to goof around, this situation was the stark exception. The sheer dread that still lingered from the fabricated encounter with the fake-null was still alive and well at the forefront of my mind, invalidating what little sympathies I normally would have to the trickster responsible. Whoever this was, they had more than Sorecar to answer to. Because the implications of this prank went far beyond just how they managed to trick all of my sensors. Although that was also a very concerning issue to be addressed. It also begged the question of just how they even learned of the null¡¯s existence in the first place. Moreover, it also brought into question how much they knew about the whole null situation. Which just opened up an entire can of worms that I just wasn¡¯t ready to deal with this late into the night, and early into the morning. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife at this point, as it was clear Sorecar had to be doing these little taps for some purpose other than freaking the prankster out. Or at least I hoped so. Because whilst I hated to admit it, I did have to rely on him, and his judgment alone, given that none of my sensors could pick up on any other signatures in the room other than the both of us. ¡°EVI, quick status report on sensors?¡± I spoke to my only other reliable companion here. ¡°I have run a total of 2,793 separate, distinct diagnostics on every sensor and sub-system involving the active and passive sensor suites, Cadet Booker. All systems are operating nominally.¡± The implications of the unknown perp¡¯s ability to evade my sensors were worrying, but I put those thoughts aside from now as I awaited the inevitable end to this entire fiasco. Because there was only one way this could end. And when you had not one, but two armored beasts hunting you down¡­ it was no longer a matter of if, but when you were found. Especially when one of these armored beasts was a five thousand year-old legendary armorer. The only question now was just how it would all play out. ¡°Hold.¡± The armorer stopped in his tracks, but maintained the constant tapping. He slowly craned his head downwards towards a seemingly empty patch of bare stone in front of us, ceased his tapping, raised his polearm, then- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 430% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS WARNING MOTION DETECTED. -all hell broke loose. The workbench closest to us was abruptly, and violently, pushed to the wayside. Causing all manner of tools and equipment to crash against the stone floor with a series of sharp, distinct, metallic clangs. The cacophony of a thousand different pieces of metal all slamming into a hard solid surface was deafening. However, it only got worse from there. As another innocent workbench became the target of this invisible assailant. Then another. And another. And another. Soon, it became clear where the invisible perp was, as they were leaving a very visible trail of telekinetically-upturned workbenches in their wake. Each row of benches being forcibly ripped from their moorings, and haphazardly flung into the central aisle as if to act as cover for whatever last-gambit mad-dash they were attempting. As it became abundantly clear where their intended destination was: the main entryway. It didn¡¯t take too long for Sorecar to act with this newfound insight, as he lifted the polearm in the general direction of the rapidly forming mess- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 590% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS -and lobbed it forward with the strength and ferocity of an olympic javelin thrower out for fucking blood. So visceral was that throw that I genuinely thought the poor invisible fool at the end of the business-end of the weapon was definitely done for. But of course, this being a Sorecar-grade weapon, something far different happened. A flurry of tendrils flared out from the central shaft of the polearm, as the sharpened blade at the very end of it reformed to resemble something blunt and non-lethal. This culminated in a spectacular display of puddy-like netting coming into contact with something, eventually hugging and highlighting the outline of a body. ALERT: [1] NEW ENTITY (HUMANOID) DETECTED WITHIN THE A/O. The suit¡¯s notifications pinged, followed just moments later by a dull painful thud as the unknown interloper slammed face-first into the barricaded entryway. Whatever magic had been used to obscure them from the suit¡¯s sensors had clearly failed after the net had made contact. This meant that the rest of the sensors and the massive database of cataloged names and faces were quick to make short work of the identity of this trickster. And the results¡­ was someone I should¡¯ve seen coming from a mile away. ENTITY IFF CODE CONFIRMED: A09. FRIENDLY. ILUNOR RULARIA. To say that my blood was boiling at this point would¡¯ve been the understatement of the century, because if it wasn¡¯t for the suit¡¯s helmet, I would be baring my nonexistent fangs at the blue-scaled prick right about now. ¡°AGH! RELEASE ME! RELEASE ME!¡± The blue thing hissed, yelled, and yapped out loudly. So loud in fact that my suit¡¯s audio systems actually had to compensate for the high frequencies being used that could¡¯ve very well sent my ears ringing. ¡°UNTANGLE ME FROM THESE UNDUE BINDS, THESE DEPLORABLE TENDRILS OF INJUSTICE! YOU HAVE OVERSTEPPED YOUR BOUNDS, TREATING ME IN SUCH A DEPLORABLE MANNER BEFITTING OF COMMON GAME! I WILL NOT STAND FOR THIS!¡± He prattled on, and would¡¯ve more than likely committed to a whole Shakespearean bit if it wasn¡¯t for the armorer quickly stepping in. Which was probably for the best, since I would¡¯ve more than likely just pushed the discount kobold¡¯s buttons with what I had to say. ¡°First year?¡± The armorer began with a nonplussed sigh. ¡°CORRECT! I AM A STUDENT OF THE TRANSGRACIAN ACADEMY, AN ESTEEMED PEER WITH RIGHTS TO SCHOLARSHIP, AND YOU HAVE JUST DISGRACED BOTH MY PERSONAL, AND, THE ACADEMY¡¯S HONOR BY THIS ONE ACT!¡± The discount kobold continued, struggling in place as he thrashed this way and that, looking more like a confused and frustrated dog who¡¯d just managed to tangle themselves underneath a blanket several times their size. ¡°YOU SHALL PAY FOR THESE TRANSGRESSIONS, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m simply following the Academy''s decorum, my lord.¡± The armorer continued, standing tall, and completely unfazed by all of Ilunor¡¯s threats and accusations. ¡°YOU KNOW NOTHING OF DECORUM, YOU ARE BUT A CREATURE, A THING-¡± ¡°Indeed, and you could say I am a creature of habit, my lord. As a result, I adhere strongly to the Academy¡¯s codes of conduct. By passing orientation, you will have already acknowledged your commitment to the upholding of both the rules and the expectations of an Academy student, correct?¡± ¡°THE RULES SAY NOTHING ABOUT BEING BOUND LIKE A HOG!¡± ¡°The rules explicitly mention the areas of the academy with restrictions for each respective year-group, and the repercussions that come with violating those restrictions.¡± The armorer continued calmly. ¡°WELL I HAVE SPECIAL PER-¡± Ilunor stopped in his tracks, then just as quickly backtracked and shifted his angle of attack. ¡°WELL WE ALL HAVE SPECIAL PERMISSION TO ENTER THE WORKSHOP TODAY! IT IS THE WEAPONS INSPECTION IS IT NOT?!¡± ¡°Correct.¡± The armorer spoke without hesitation. ¡°However it is now past the stroke of midnight.¡± He pointed to a timepiece on the far corner of the room. ¡°And as such, the grounds for that claim have since become moot. Unless, of course, you wish to claim the rights to carry-over the prior day¡¯s unique permission?¡± Ilunor seemed to completely freeze as soon as Sorecar made his play, as his eyes began darting around the room, staring at anything but the armorer. ¡°Carry-over will imply that you have exercised the right to be here, prior to the stroke of midnight.¡± Sorecar clarified, as if to hammer home how much he was able to effectively corner Ilunor. ¡°Do you wish to plead that case, my lord?¡± He quickly added with just the slightest hint of that overzealous confidence that he¡¯d so freely used with me, but kept away from this particular interaction. ¡°I will say nothing further.¡± Ilunor began with a sooty huff. ¡°Only that I demand to be released, immediately.¡± And despite Sorecar having effectively cornered him into an admission by omission, and despite all of the back and forths clearly proving him to be in the right, the man still complied to this request with only the slightest hints of hesitation. He held his hand out, calling forth the polearm back as the magical netting that had kept Ilunor contained was removed almost instantaneously. Given how much of a gremlin he was, I half-expected him to skitter away just as quickly as he was freed. Thankfully, or perhaps regrettably, he didn¡¯t, as he stood up and dusted himself off without so much as saying a word. ¡°You understand that I will have to write you up for a disciplinary violation and a transgression of Academy codes of conduct, correct?¡± Sorecar spoke as soon as Ilunor got up. ¡°I still stand by my refusal to speak further on this topic, and as such, I refuse to accept such petty attacks at my character from someone as unbefitting to judge my moral character as the Academy¡¯s armorer.¡± The Vunerian continued without so much as a hint of nervousness to his voice. ¡°I am still bound by Academy codes of conduct to request that this issue be investigated further, and that the appropriate disciplinary measures are taken as a result.¡± Sorecar stated plain and simple. ¡°Then we are at an impasse.¡± The small thing yelped out something fierce. ¡°As such, I will request that you defer my case and this supposed transgression to a higher disciplinary authority.¡± Ilunor stated plainly, which seemed to take the armorer by genuine surprise. ¡°You understand that the next appropriate disciplinary authority are the Black and Blue-Robed professors?¡± Sorecar spoke with a tone of disbelief. ¡°Correct, and I am more than happy to exercise that right.¡± The Vunerian stood ¡®tall¡¯, or as tall as he could given how he barely reached the man¡¯s thigh-plates. ¡°I am unwilling to continue this charade, of being belittled by an entity with such a clear degree of bias that it is only capable of structured, unintuitive thought. A being separated from a lowly golem just by a scant few trivial steps.¡± Ilunor practically spat out. The armorer paused for a few seconds, and during that time, I half assumed he would unexpectedly punt the smug little thing straight across the room. The workshop was the size of a football stadium after all, and it could be argued that compared to the armorer, Ilunor was roughly football-sized as well. What I got instead, however, was the exact opposite of justified retribution. As the armorer simply took that verbal assault, and just toughed it out. ¡°Then you shall be receiving a notice for disciplinary review by the likes of the black-robed tomorrow.¡± He stated sternly. ¡°I¡¯ll be looking forward to it.¡± The Vunerian grinned, clearly taking that as a win, before snapping his head sharply towards the main entryway. ¡°Ahem.¡± He cleared his throat loudly, not even granting the armorer the dignity of a worded request. Sure enough, all of the bolts and chains that had held the door shut began receding or outright vanishing altogether. This prompted the Vunerian to make his getaway, as he pushed forward with a certain satisfaction in his step. And he would¡¯ve walked out there scott-free as well¡­ if I hadn¡¯t had a few things I needed to clear with him first. The blue thing¡¯s little legs were completely outmatched by my strides, as I barely had to do more than to briskly walk for a few short seconds in order to overtake him. I planted myself in front of the Vunerian just a few feet outside of the entryway, but much to no one¡¯s surprise, he simply ignored me and merely attempted to skirt right by me. But I wasn¡¯t having any of it. I scooted over to block him at every turn, keeping up the non-confrontational war of attrition by tiring him out just by pacing either to my left or right, making short work of his desire to just wordlessly walk out of here without any repercussions. Soon enough, the little thing relented, and with the pitter-patter of his claws shaking in place from frustration, he finally craned his head upwards to acknowledge me. ¡°WHAT IS IT, EARTHREALMER?! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!¡± He yelled loudly. ¡°Really?¡± I shot back with disbelief. ¡°Do you honestly have the nerve to ask that after the stunt you pulled?¡± ¡°Stunt?¡± The Vunerian looked straight at me, directly into my lenses, and didn¡¯t so much as flinch as he maintained near-perfect eye-contact. ¡°You will have to be either more discrete with regards to your wild-realmer proclivities for bombastic over exaggerations, or more forthcoming with evidence should you wish to direct such petty accusations at me for situations and circumstances beyond my awareness and control.¡± He spoke as if nothing had happened. His tone, the way he spoke, the way he regarded me at this point in time, all of it felt like one big well rehearsed act. There was lying through one¡¯s teeth. Then¡­ there was whatever this was. Ilunor¡¯s expert ability to skirt past the truth in a manner that was borderline self-delusional, and it was beyond frustrating to deal with. ¡°Ilunor. Look at me.¡± I breathed in and out, steadying myself as I crouched down to at least partially meet him at eye-level. However, despite this being the greatest extent of my crouch, I still found myself a solid foot above him. ¡°Are you hearing yourself right now? Can you really be saying this with a straight face? We both know what happened in there, and we both know who¡¯s responsible. You can¡¯t just skirt past simple logic by substituting reality with your own narrative. So please, just compromise with me here, just tell me why you did what you did.¡± There was a distinct pause now, as it was clear that there was some intimidation factor to be had with me shifting my weight like that. ¡°Earthrealmer, are you hearing yourself right now? Are you this socially daft?¡± Ilunor regarded me just a bit differently now, as if he was genuinely taken aback at my attempt at a straightforward conversation. ¡°Excuse me-?¡± ¡°Newrealmer.¡± He interrupted me before I could get my point across, as he gestured straight for the workshop with both arms. ¡°The alleged transgression has been deferred to a higher authority for further deliberation of truth. And until the higher authority decrees the extent of the validity of said truth, the matter is completely moot.¡± I had to pause, as I couldn¡¯t believe what I was hearing. ¡°So you¡¯re willing to just ignore fundamental reasoning, deferring reality to someone else just to clear your-¡± ¡°I am willing to abide by the rules of standard social convention.¡± The Vunerian stated plainly. ¡°And I suggest you do the same, should you wish to integrate with civilized society.¡± He spoke with that same level of confidence and cockiness from before. It was at that point as I shifted back to my full height, that the discount kobold¡¯s actions all finally fell into place. Everything about the small blue thing finally clicked. It wasn¡¯t so much the fact that they made any coherent or logical sense by traditional metrics, but rather, that they made perfect sense in the very specific set of circumstances that governed Nexian social conventions. Letting out another long sigh, I realized there was only one correct way to really address this whole situation, and that was by speaking the Vunerian¡¯s language. A language which had been touched on several times during SIOP training, and one that I wasn¡¯t too excited to be diving into. The language that was political double-speak. ¡°But we¡¯re not currently in the public eye now are we?¡± I stated plainly, with little in the way of frustration or vitriol. ¡°There¡¯s little use for pretense outside of the established narrative.¡± I continued, before I pulled out my little trump card that I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d be using this quickly. ¡°So we can continue talking like we¡¯re in the public eye, amongst our peers, and under the gaze of the faculty. Or¡­¡± I paused for effect, pulling the solid-gold library card out, twirling it in between my fingers. ¡°We can talk like the adults that we are.¡± I didn¡¯t even allow the lizard more than a solid few seconds to lay his eyes on the card, as I flicked it back into one of my pockets as soon as he¡¯d had enough time to realize just what it was. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°Alright, newrealmer...¡± Ilunor¡¯s tone shifted now, the previous pretenses of shock and indignation were smothered just as another privacy screen came up. ¡°You understand the basics of the game.¡± He admitted under a strained breath of defeat. ¡°But whether or not you¡¯re ready to play it is another matter unto itself. So I ask you now: are you willing to let bygones be bygones, forget everything that has transpired within the confines of the sanctuary of that forsaken golem you¡¯ve clearly taken a liking to, and start anew? Or¡­ do you insist on pursuing this matter further?¡± ¡°You ask this as if you were the one setting up the rules.¡± I spoke plainly, calling Ilunor¡¯s bluff. ¡°And we both know that¡¯s not the case.¡± Ilunor shifted in place, his gaze drifting nervously to the side for the first time out of any of our interactions, as it was clear something had struck a nerve in him. ¡°We¡¯ll touch on this matter later.¡± The Vunerian spoke sheepishly. ¡°This is neither the time nor the place for such discussions.¡± He continued, as he once again attempted to scurry off. But he wasn¡¯t going anywhere until I got at least one thing straightened out. ¡°Answer me this first: you chose that creature on purpose, didn¡¯t you?¡± The Vunerian paused before the privacy screen fully dissipated. As he stood in place for what felt like an entire minute before deflating. ¡°There are an untold number of creatures I could¡¯ve pulled from, newrealmer. Yet I chose that one. Do with that knowledge as you will.¡± This was perhaps the closest I could get to a yes from Ilunor. So I considered that a win in my book. Especially since it opened up so many more implications to the discount kobold¡¯s involvement in all of this. As I watched him skittering down the long corridor back into the Academy, I started to realize even more palpably now, what kind of a society the Nexus and the Academy were. SIOP had touched on this eventuality, as humanity was not new to this whole game of political doublethink. A game that redefined reality to a set of multiple conflicting narratives existing concurrently, running parallel, yet never touching. Except for when it did, for those in charge of dictating the narrative. It took a lot of effort to navigate that backwards-logic. Because really, there was no logic to it to begin with. As everything was dictated instead by narrative, politics, and the wishy-washy world of what was most convenient to whoever was at the top at the time. This was perhaps why Sorecar was so completely removed from it all. I can only imagine how much of this crap one person could take before they went completely nuts. Speaking of Sorecar¡­ I turned back towards the workshop now, as it was about time I bid him my proper goodbyes. Walking back into the expansive room, I was once more hit with a face full of mana-radiation alarms. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The source of this became clear enough, as I took note of how the various workstations were somehow being rearranged back into their original state. All without Sorecar¡¯s direct involvement; a result of some magical spells no doubt. It took me a few moments before I spotted the man, as he seemed entirely transfixed on what looked to be one of the many suits of armor that adorned the walls. This particular one I recognized as the same design as those target dummies from the earlier demonstration with the knock-off hunter-killer. Sorecar seemed completely out of it, not even acknowledging me as I walked towards him. Though it soon became clear why he''d become so distracted, and what exactly it was that distracted him. As I got closer, I noted how the armorer¡¯s gaze was locked onto a specific part of the suit of armor. More accurately, on a part that had been blown straight through. As right there, on what I assumed was one of the thickest parts of the armor, was a thumb-sized hole which probably wasn¡¯t there before. ¡°Emma Booker, I assume this is your weapon¡¯s doing?¡± The man finally spoke, tilting his head towards me as he raised a single finger, gesturing towards the gaping hole in question. With hesitation, I nodded sheepishly, confirming the man¡¯s suspicions. ¡°So that¡¯s what you meant by ranged.¡± The armorer announced in short order, letting out a series of slow chuckles that gradually culminated into a hardy chortle. ¡°And to think, I thought it was a boomerang.¡± Chapter 31: Now THATS A Lotta Damage! We both spent the next few seconds staring intently at the only victim of collateral damage from that very brief, and very one-sided exchange. An exchange which involved 25 very fast bois, and one very well-protected, hand-crafted suit of enchanted armor. A suit of armor who was an innocent victim in all of this, whose only offense was simply being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. It was an offense that had led to a hailstorm of bullets creating an unsightly hole where a beefy neck-guard had once been. This surprising turn of events had resulted in a very perplexed Sorecar, who seemed to be unable to make heads or tails of all of this. The man¡¯s gaze remained completely transfixed on what could only be described as a clean, textbook-example of a shot-grouping made possible by a tried and proven weapon with centuries of refinement under its belt. The thumb-sized hole that had manifested on a particularly heavily-reinforced part of the armor looked almost surreal given the otherwise immaculate state of the suit. It looked almost intentional, almost mockingly so, and would¡¯ve more than likely been immediately attributed to a great many forms of mana-fueled shenanigans, rather than the unassuming mana-less brick that was my pistol. After a few more moments of silence, punctuated only by an awkward shuffle as the man knelt down to get a closer look at the damage, he eventually turned to face me again with a clenched fist and a single thumb pointed back towards the hole in question. ¡°So¡­ mana-less?¡± He asked with a genuine display of disbelief, as if needing to hear me say it one last time to douse what few embers remained of his lingering skepticism. A skepticism which I only had one response for: that being a confident nod and a sheepish smile. ¡°Yup, mana-less!¡± A sharp ¡®sigh¡¯ soon followed, as the armorer wiggled his hands in place for a few seconds, causing two back-to-back upticks in mana-radiation. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The lights in the room suddenly dimmed. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 230% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS And an object suddenly appeared in the armorer¡¯s formerly empty hands. An object which bore a remarkable similarity to a flashlight, if you were to replace the butt of it with a dull pulsating orb of light encased in a spinning disc of crystals. It looked like something you¡¯d find in an end-game dungeon, despite its sole purpose being identical to that of your common requisitions-office-grade flashlight. The purpose of this device, and the sudden dimming of the workshop¡¯s lights, was soon made clear to me as he pointed the light through the hole in the armor¡­ only for it to emerge on the other side seamlessly. ¡°Because you¡¯ve left me with not just one hole to worry about, but two. And as a result, left me with double the questions, double the perplexity, and double the mystery¡­ as to how a mana-less projectile was able to make it through enchanted armor, not just once, but twice.¡± Sorecar reinforced his sheer and utter disbelief by rapidly flicking the bottom of the magical flashlight with his fingers, causing the light to turn on and off in rapid succession. A very apt metaphor for how he was currently feeling at this point no doubt. ¡°The armor, despite being enchanted, is still just steel, correct?¡± I responded with a straightforward question. ¡°Mana-steel, yes, but I¡¯ll assume your point still stands.¡± The armorer responded curtly. ¡°And I¡¯m assuming there¡¯s no additional funny business involved? No enchantments that can repel projectiles, no shields that slows down incoming blows, or anything like that?¡± I continued further. ¡°Not this particular piece, no. It¡¯s a commission from the same person who commissioned the polearm. All he wanted, and all he was allowed, was a series of complex enchants designed to strengthen the mana-steel. Resilience, durability, and other such assorted enchantments.¡± The armorer listed off in rapid succession. With it being confirmed that all I was dealing with, was just a super-strengthened piece of metal, I was confident in leading into my final point. ¡°Well theoretically speaking then, even with enchantments, anything with enough mass, traveling with enough speed, could pierce an object, correct?¡± The armorer made a point to cock his head to the other side, and if he still had eyes, I bet they¡¯d be staring at me with all sorts of emotions right about now. ¡°The speeds an object would need to achieve to pierce a piece of enchanted armor, not once, but twice, would be impossible to accomplish without the aid of the direct manipulation of mana, or the construction of an artifice using mana.¡± The armorer stated plainly, with a hint of disbelief coloring his voice. ¡°No known mana-less mechanism would be able to accomplish a similar end. This is not to mention that the object in question would have to be shaped with the explicit purpose to pierce mana-steel, and would have to be forged out of a material with properties comparable to mana-steel, if not exceeding it.¡± The man paused after that spiel for a few seconds, his whole body going completely still as he began mumbling to himself. ¡°A smart smith would have to weigh the cost and benefit of the velocity versus the weight of the projectile, and the energy capable of being transferred at the point of impact, moreover, different shapes designed to pierce certain armors, and the properties of the metals involved would also come into play. Which, given the back and forth nature of arms and defense, all of this would imply-¡± His mumbles stopped as he rapidly cocked his head towards the hole yet again, then towards me. ¡°Just how far has your realm come, where your people have found it necessary to develop projectiles capable of piercing materials comparable to enchanted mana-steel, Emma Booker?¡± The armorer spoke with nothing but shock and disbelief in his voice. ¡°Far enough.¡± I spoke vaguely, as I knew I had to tread the line between discretion and answers like a thread through a needle. The armorer let out a sharp humph at my answer before continuing. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be surprised though. I should¡¯ve expected as much, given how that small weapon of yours was capable of containing a chain of consecutive explosions.¡± The armorer spoke in no uncertain terms, as I felt my heart practically skipping a beat. ¡°That¡¯s what it was, wasn¡¯t it? That dreadful sound? I¡¯ve dabbled in my fair share of explosive weaponry, I know the sound of a contained explosion when I hear one.¡± I paused, trying to wrap my head around an acceptable answer as I landed on a plausible, middling response. ¡°I¡¯m-¡± Only to be cut off by the armorer before I could go anywhere with that. ¡°Actually, don¡¯t answer that question.¡± He urged sharply, as he craned his head towards several aspects of the room, before landing on the entryway to the workshop. It was the same tone he¡¯d used when he¡¯d hurriedly approved my weapon and prematurely ended the weapons inspection right before Ilunor¡¯s prank. It was that same, almost hushed sort of self-conscious intonation that felt just a bit off from the endlessly-curious tone he usually spoke in. ¡°It would be rude of me to intrude and to blindly ask for something that might well be a trade-secret of another smithy or armory after all.¡± He quickly added, clearly attempting to justify that abrupt halt in his curious train of thought by giving me an answer that was just convincing enough, but still left me with a certain sense of unease. Another awkward silence soon descended on us. Something was clearly going through the Sorecar¡¯s head. Something that the man clearly didn¡¯t want to say or mention out loud. The way he stood there, just glancing back and forth between me and the hole-ridden suit of armor, made me think there was more to this sudden stop in the flow of the conversation, and more to the abrupt cutoff of his naturally curious tendencies. ¡°Don¡¯t interpret this the wrong way, Emma Booker.¡± He suddenly spoke up. ¡°I want nothing more than to dive deeper into the inner workings of such a fascinating weapon. However, I believe it¡¯s best if certain things were left unspoken. I wouldn¡¯t want to rescind my earlier approval of that weapon after all.¡± The man spoke with a ¡®wink¡¯, or, what could be interpreted as a wink as he tilted his helmet back and forth enough to generate that same effect. That one statement alone was evidence enough to prove to me that the armorer was actively trying to help. There were a thousand and one ways this could¡¯ve played out, and a hundred thousand more scenarios where he could¡¯ve just taken the pistol away. Yet this was one of those outcomes where that wasn¡¯t the case. Perhaps the hearts and minds aspect of this whole mission was already starting to pay off? ¡°Either way, I believe it¡¯s about time you took your leave, Emma Booker. I said it before, but I¡¯ll say it again: I¡¯ve taken enough of your time as is.¡± Sorecar spoke with a grandfatherly warmth. ¡°And unlike myself, I know there¡¯s a fleshy body inside of that armor that needs its sleep.¡± It didn¡¯t feel right to just leave it at that though. I felt like I had to clear the air somewhat, especially with how things had panned out, and especially after all of the acts of good will Sorecar had risked his own skin just to put forward. ¡°Listen, Sorecar. I¡¯m sorry about how things turned out tonight.¡± ¡°Oh? Whatever do you mean by that, Emma Booker?¡± The man spoke with his signature head-tilt. The way he spoke was completely devoid of any duplicity or sarcasm, but instead, a genuine sense of confusion. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ well¡­ first of all, I¡¯m sorry for this entire mess.¡± I gestured at the room. Though to be fair, the mess I was referring to was almost completely gone now as whatever magic was responsible for cleaning everything up had made short work of the disaster Ilunor had left behind. ¡°First off, none of this was your mess to begin with, Emma Booker.¡± The armorer replied with absolutely no hesitation. ¡°And second, it¡¯s a relatively trivial matter for a caster of my caliber to deal with. As you see-¡± He gestured towards the scant few objects that were slowly making their way back to their rightful places. ¡°-the workshop¡¯s practically as good as new now!¡± ¡°Well, I most certainly can¡¯t argue with that.¡± I responded with a sigh. ¡°But I still feel somewhat responsible for the damage.¡± I gestured towards the hole-ridden suit of armor in question. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t used my weapon on that fake-creature, then-¡± ¡°You can¡¯t feel mana-fields underneath all that mana-resistant metal, can you, Emma Booker?¡± The armorer interjected with a question. ¡°No, not really, at least not as I understand how most Nexians can-¡± ¡°Well then you¡¯re not at fault.¡± The armorer stated in no uncertain terms. ¡°The projection you saw was as accurate as could be, down to the finest physical details, and even took up physical space. However, it was its mana-field that gave it away. It wasn¡¯t that it was undetectable, but rather, it was a rough approximation that was simply incongruent with the creature it was purporting to be. Given what you¡¯ve told me, that you¡¯re from a realm without mana, belonging to a species without a mana-field? It would¡¯ve been all but impossible for you to have distinguished that beastly projection from its real counterpart. Come to think of it, even a peasant with the ability to detect mana wouldn¡¯t have been able to detect the finer details of its falsehood. As the field it projected was there, but just not right.¡± If that¡¯s the case¡­ then that might explain why the sensors were fooled. It wasn¡¯t that it was a hologram, it was an actual physical thing. Which again, brings up the uncomfortable question of just how Ilunor was able to capture the null¡¯s likeness down to a t. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°The ability to feel and see mana-fields sounds almost like an extra sense.¡± I pondered out loud. ¡°That it is, Emma Booker. Or rather, it¡¯s a sense that¡¯s found in all living things in the Nexus and the Adjacent Realms. I wouldn¡¯t want to sound presumptuous, but considering you are unable to sense it at all, you technically are the exception to the rule¡­ Apologies if that was in any way offensive.¡± The armorer responded sheepishly. ¡°No offense taken, Sorecar.¡± I promptly dismissed the man¡¯s concerns, and reassured him with a firm nod. There was a lot to unpack and uncover here. And a heck of a lot more things to learn. But for now, I needed to wrap things up. There would be time to delve deeper into the finer details of mana, into whatever Sorecar seemed to be paranoid of, and into Ilunor¡¯s conspiracy. Probably not in that order, but still. There would be a time and place for them. For now, the primary concern was to finally bring this questline to an end, before shifting my entire focus back on resuming the hunt for the crate. ¡°I¡¯m not too great at goodbyes so¡­ I guess this is it, at least until we inevitably bump into each other again. I do have a whole year to spend here after all.¡± I spoke under an exasperated breath. ¡°Indeed, and several more years following that to boot! So fret not young cadet, for we will soon cross paths yet again! I just know it!¡± Sorecar replied cheerfully. ¡°Oh, and before I forget.¡± The man outstretched a hand towards the general direction of the damaged suit of armor- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 270% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS -and telekinetically pulled out what seemed to be a collection of bits of metal deep from within the stone wall behind it. ¡°Here are your projectiles back.¡± He spoke giddily, as he clinked the bits and pieces of metal around in his gloved palms. "Such fascinating specimens¡­¡± Before reluctantly pouring all of them back onto my awaiting hands. ¡°Please send my regards to Dr. Alisson Cooper and Dr. Richard Li for the invention and or refinement of such novel constructs!¡± Another sharp shiver ran down my spine as the armorer spoke of the two long-dead engineers, clearly working off of the assumptions from my purposefully-vague explanation of the gun from earlier. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do about that, the pair are erm, normally quite preeoccupied!¡± ¡°Dr. Cooper, Dr. Li, please don¡¯t haunt my dreams for this¡­ I did what I had to.¡± I whispered internally to myself, and to the long-departed spirits of the two world-renowned engineers who were more than likely now waiting for me with rolled-up newspapers for when it was my turn to join them in the afterlife. ¡°And thank you for returning these.¡± I said as I pocketed the bullets, or what was left of them, back into one of my many pouches. It was at this point that Sorecar began ushering me towards the double-doors, but continued talking as he accompanied me out. ¡°You¡¯re more than welcome to return to the workshop at any point, Emma Booker. However, there are a few caveats you must be aware of. As you might have overheard from our confrontation with the Vunerian, the workshop is generally off-limits to students. This means that you would normally have to go through the faculty to request an audience with me. However I would request that you actively avoid the conventional channels should you wish to return. You can instead approach the workshop directly, though you must first inform one of my many golems that line the hallway first. They will inform me of your presence and we can proceed from there¡± The man paused, placing a hand on my shoulder just as we reached the double doors. ¡°Make sure that you address the golems, and not the gargoyles.¡± He quickly added. ¡°Will do, Sorecar.¡± I nodded cautiously, and soon after left the workshop in almost the same way I entered: without much fanfare, and with dread looming ahead of me. However, as I turned back towards the doors one final time, waving the man yet another goodbye, that sense of dread lifted somewhat. My time with Sorecar had exposed a revelation far more vital than the intel I¡¯d managed to gather on the offensive capabilities and the industrial potential of the Nexus. It¡¯d exposed something that should¡¯ve been obvious from the beginning, but that I now had more evidence for. It¡¯d demonstrated the fact that the Academy, and perhaps by extension the Nexus, wasn¡¯t just a monolithic faceless threat. Because as with any institution, it was composed of people, and people tended to vary wildly in possibly every possible metric. As evidenced by Sorecar himself. I¡¯d arrived at the workshop believing I was in for an uphill battle, believing that the armorer would be yet another Nexus-shill. Yet the man I encountered was anything but. As I was instead faced with a near-broken man, who perhaps suffered just as much as any under the system he served. My interactions with Sorecar were forcing me to rethink my current presumptions over the Academy. It gave me some hope that there was good here, underneath what would otherwise be a gilded world in name alone.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 0300 Hours. Emma Booker They say that you don¡¯t really notice how tired you are until you finally reach the finish line. Well, whoever they are, they¡¯re right. I wanted nothing more than to drop dead. I desired sleep, I craved rest, my body screamed at me to just lie where I stood as I entered through those double-doors and back into the sanctuary that was the dorm. Yet rest would not come for me that easy. Indeed, I knew that my night had only just begun, at least when it came to the long laundry list that came with the setup of the tent. Looking at the top-right hand corner of the HUD, I physically shuddered when I saw the looming horror that came second only to the null with the level of primal dread it instilled within me. It was a feeling that was well known within the ranks of anyone trained in expeditionary warfare, a sense of inevitability that would¡¯ve made even the most hardened of veterans quake in their boots. For this was an enemy that you couldn¡¯t just dispatch with, at least not with a bullet, a laser beam, or a bolt of plasma. It was an enemy that you could only deal with using a squad of auto-assembly drones, and a lot of troubleshooting. It was the dreaded checklist. In front of my eyes, superimposed in front of the dark and silent room like the specter of a freshly-minted sapper, was the monster of a checklist that grew larger and larger in size the longer my pupils remained fixated on it. ONGOING TASKS [TENT]: BASIC SETUP [72%] INTERMEDIATE SETUP [34%] ADVANCED SETUP [23%] SETUP OF INTERNAL FACILITIES [N/A] SETUP OF EXTERNAL PERIMETER EQUIPMENT [10%] Eventually, the text came to dominate the majority of my vision, not out of some quirk of the interface, but because it was necessary for what was to come. [MENU EXPANSION Y/N?] Because within those categories, was nestled a collapsible menu that held an endless stream of sub-categories. And within those, were the individual tasks arranged in order of priority, color-coded with its prerequisite equipment and materials, and further married with a series of a hundred different bits and pieces that were by themselves fine, but when put together looked like an info-logger had thrown up on my HUD. Because in expeditionary warfare, the only ones responsible for your bed, your shower, your facilities, is you. I began recalling some of my aunt¡¯s many warnings about heading voluntarily into expeditionary training and certification. That¡¯s why I joined TSEC, proper. All you need to worry about is your kit, your weapons, the insertion, and killing anything outlined in red. Everything else is not my problem. Join the LREF if you want to spend half of your time training how to prepare for a hypothetical alien war, on a hypothetical alien world, by not-hypothetically assembling bases from the ground up over and over again. Join the army if you want to roll the dice on whether or not you plan on doing the same thing the LREF does, just with less prestige, or end up being stuck on-base for the entirety of your service. If only she could see what I¡¯d gotten myself into now. I sighed, and began looking around for any signs of life. All I could see however was a room with only the crackling fireplace as its sole source of light. It was quiet, somewhat eerie, but very peaceful. I kinda liked that. Some peace after a day of nonstop action was nice. At least, that¡¯s what I thought, until I heard the tell-tale signs of life from within Thalmin and Ilunor¡¯s room. A series of loud thumps grew in rapid succession, as if someone was purposefully stomping on either the floors, or even the walls given how erratic things sounded from this side of the wall. I knew it wasn¡¯t my business to involve myself in other peoples¡¯ business¡­ But heck, I couldn¡¯t help myself. So I took a few tentative steps towards the room, which was more than enough for me to hear bits and pieces of the vitriolic arguments brewing within. ¡°-I¡¯m not going to ask again. Where the heck were you, lizard?!¡± I heard a very distinct voice growl out. Thalmin¡¯s voice no doubt, as the EVI began filtering the audio, amplifying it, and assigning names to the voices for good measure. ¡°Where I was is none of your concern, lupinor. I find your obsessive interests over my actions to be quite telling, mercenary prince. You don¡¯t seem to have much in the way of your own business to attend to now, do you? Perhaps you find it more engaging to live vicariously through another¡¯s eyes? Is that what it is?¡± The small thing was just as smarmy as ever¡­ ¡°You know damn well that¡¯s not what this is about. Now stop skirting my questions. You expect to arrive back here, enter our room, without even giving me the common courtesy of an explanation why you left in the first place? Is that how manners go in your Kingdom?¡± ¡°I will be having none of this! Not tonight, not- wait... Just a moment-¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 225% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Any and all sounds from within the room suddenly stopped after that burst of mana. I could only assume that the lizard had more than likely pulled up another privacy barrier. ¡°Good luck Thalmin, you¡¯re going to need it.¡± I whispered silently into my helmet as I left the wolf to his fate, and silently trudged back towards my room. I¡¯d done everything in my power to delay the inevitable. Now, it was time to face the music. Opening the door to the room, I was met with silence. Not the dull droning of the generators, nor the vacuum-like whirring of the MREDD, but just¡­ silence. Taking more tentative steps towards the tent, it soon became clear just why things were this silent. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 275% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Thacea had clearly accounted for the noise, and decided to preemptively deal with it before I even got back. My suspicions were confirmed as I looked up towards the second floor lofts, and noticed that one of the beds was already occupied. Thank you Thacea, you really are a lifesaver. I thought to myself with a smile, as I prodded my way over to what looked to be a massive food cart just randomly placed in a corner of the room. It was only when I got close did I realize what it was. And it was only then that a huge pang of hunger finally hit me. It was the to-go order I¡¯d requested earlier this morning at breakfast. I completely forgot about it with everything else that had happened over the course of the day. From the spy drone to the revelation of the null, to the library and the subsequent fight that ensued in the gardens, to the discussions of the gun to both Thacea and Thalmin, and then the whole night spent at the armorer¡¯s workshop¡­ the food cart had been all but been ejected from my mind. Looking at the massive cart, I noticed a small letter, written in handwriting that looked as if it¡¯d come straight off of a table of a master calligrapher. The EVI and the translation suites made quick work of the text, as I began reading it.
Emma, You will find that the food is still in the same condition as it was this morning, as the Academy utilizes a spell to ensure the freshness of the dishes. Please find the time to eat something. Your lack of appetite is starting to worry me. With Sincerest Regards, Thacea D.
I couldn¡¯t help but to feel a certain pang of something at the end of that letter. I couldn¡¯t quite place it, but it just felt¡­ nice. Though as I stared at the still-fresh food, I quickly realized that it could only help so much, given that I¡¯d forgotten to put it in the MREDD earlier in the day. And since the machine hadn¡¯t yet been tested, and needed several samples to calibrate, I knew I wouldn¡¯t be seeing any of these dishes inside the tent¡­ at least until sometime tomorrow. With that being said, I needed to put something in there now if I wanted to see results. So I took a few staple foods that were of similar densities, that being some bread and what looked to be pancakes, and tossed those into the MREDD¡¯s external-facing compartment. With that out of the way, I turned to the rest of the equipment still tucked away in the crates. I stared at them for a few solid minutes, my fingers gliding across my tablet as I finally landed on something that satisfied both the checklist, and my own selfish desires. It was going to be a longshot, but I knew I could do it. This would be something I would need if I was going to stand any chance at resuming my quest to retrieve the crate, starting with an unscheduled visit to a hopefully lucid apprentice. [START SETUP: HYGIENE MODULE Y/N?] I was going to take a warm shower tonight, if it was the last thing I do. Chapter 32: Bread Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Thacea and Emma¡¯s Bedroom. The Tent. Local Time: 0500 Hours. Emma Booker I fucked up. Big time. And I had no one else but myself to blame. You know that feeling when you dive head-first into a project that you had zero doubts would somehow work itself out in the end? The sudden surge of confidence that comes when you let the indomitable human spirit take the wheel? Well that was me at 0300 hours when my eyes landed upon the hygiene module, and pictured the inevitable outcome of a steaming hot shower after an entire day of nonstop grinding. I couldn¡¯t help myself but to fall into the same trap as every other would-be DIY-er. I couldn¡¯t stop the excitement, the sudden surge of energy, and the absolute hyperfixation that came with completing a project that promised nothing but endless positives, at the expense of some time and effort that would prove minimal in the grand scheme of things. And just like every would-be DIY-er, I was this close to completing the task at hand, before finally reaching a roadblock that inevitably brought everything to a screeching halt. FINAL STEP: REFER TO [UNDESIGNATED WATER SOURCE] FOR ATTACHMENT OF INTAKE PIPE [EIP23] TO EXTERNAL PUMPING MODULE [EPM-1]. That one, final instruction, decimated me. Especially as I got to that final step at just shy of 0500 hours, when I finally had the entire damn module set up, only to realize that I had missed out on a vital pre-procedure checklist that I¡¯d purposefully skipped because I¡¯d assumed it would be a non-issue. ENVIRONMENTAL PREREQUISITE: LOCATE, EVALUATE, AND SECURE A RELIABLE WATER SOURCE. And that¡¯s why I only had myself to blame for this fiasco. Because I¡¯d assumed that the availability of a water-source in the dorms would¡¯ve been an open and shut case. It only made sense for me to make that assumption though, as I saw that Thacea had clearly used the dorm¡¯s en-suite to shower just the night before. It was because of this that I didn¡¯t even bother checking the bathroom to begin with. I thought that whatever was in there could¡¯ve easily fit the hyper-modular fittings of the source-intake pipe. Things couldn¡¯t have been further from the truth however, as what I saw within that bathroom made me question the very fabric of my own reality. As within those four marble walls, was nothing. Nothing, but a series of dull flat marble surfaces, and some strange wall-fittings that looked like something out of a 21st century ¡®modern¡¯ art exhibit. There was nothing here that resembled a tap, or even hinted at the fact that there were even any pipes carrying running water behind those four bare walls. The only other thing of note here was an unseen light source keeping the bathroom lit. Aside from that, there was literally nothing else here. This meant I had only one option available to me. The most logical and straightforward option, of simply nudging the avinor princess awake just so I could ask where I could find a fucking tap. Whilst it was the most straightforward thing to do, I just couldn¡¯t get myself to do it. I¡¯d thought about going up those stairs to nudge the avian awake, to then apologize profusely for disturbing her sleep¡­ but given everything Thacea had done for me thus far, and considering the fact that I was responsible for almost all of the headaches we were currently experiencing, it just felt wrong for me to disturb here at that hour. So I was left with the inconvenient truth of my circumstances, and decided to just embrace the suck, toughing out the folly of my hubris¡­ At least, until morning came around. At that point, I could rest easy in actually asking the princess for pointers on the enigmatic machinations of the bathroom. Until then, I would sleep. And hopefully, my shortsighted adventure would bear some fruit when morning rears its ugly head around.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Thacea and Emma¡¯s Bedroom. Local Time: 1000 Hours. Emma Booker Good news: Half of my hard work actually paid off. Bad news: Only half of my hard work actually paid off. Upon waking up three hours later, forcing my carcass up and back into the suit, I¡¯d managed to flag down Thacea just as she was getting out of bed. The princess¡¯ reactions to my questions were nothing short of the politeness I¡¯d expected from her. Which managed to put me at ease as I was getting worried I was starting to get on her nerves with my constant flurry of questions. The bathroom turned out to be yet another demonstration of the Nexus¡¯ completely unhinged philosophies. As it relied entirely on a mana user¡¯s manipulation of the room to operate. Apparently, whoever designed this place took the whole concept of a modular, personalized room, and just ran with it. Making it so that every aspect of the room relied solely on the mana user to work, as they had to shape, form, and structure the otherwise blank slate before use. This was supposedly done so that the room could be made to fit the precise criterion of a person¡¯s liking. To me however, it just felt like another bizarre concept pulled straight out of the Nexus¡¯ seemingly endless idea-pool of zany, overkill, and mana-addled solutions to problems that sort of existed. Thankfully, the bathroom didn¡¯t require constant intervention from a mana-user to operate, as certain elements could be permanently turned on. This included the water mains, which I immediately hooked up the pipes to, as the mana-contaminated water was quickly siphoned into a series of filtration units, all with the express purpose of extracting and removing every ounce of mana present within the water. This process took about two hours to do. But by the end of it, I was rewarded for all my troubles by one of the best showers I¡¯ve ever had. All of the stress, even the constant ticking of the bomb which constantly gnawed at the back of my mind, seemed to fade away for a few short minutes as the warm water washed everything away. But that about wrapped up the good news. The bad news however, came in the form of the little MREDD experiment from the previous night. As I opened the triple-airlocked compartment on my side of the tent, I was met with what could only be described as ¡®food¡¯ in name and aesthetics alone. The soft, white, fluffy loaf of bread had literally become a baton. Whilst the pancakes were now more reminiscent of a mini-frisbee that cracked and crumbled the moment I laid my fingers on them. My immeasurable disappointment grew the longer I stood there next to the MREDD, and the longer I stared at the small stack of dust that was once a perfectly cooked stack of pancakes. Beyond this however, I could feel a bit of anxiety seeping in, as the results of the experiment did make me a bit anxious as to the long-term food security of this mission. Then again, I should¡¯ve expected this result. It was the first calibration test after all. ¡°I should¡¯ve expected this, shouldn¡¯t I?¡± I spoke to no one in particular, but quickly garnered the attention of the EVI who remained within the power armor that currently stood imposingly just a few feet away from me. ¡°That is correct, Cadet Booker. As you are already aware, the MREDD is designed with multiple calibration protocols in-effect, each which correspond to the type and densities of the foodstuffs to be desaturated. In addition to this, the systems are designed to test the maximal extraction threshold against the subjective palatability gradient with the food safety variable as an integral aspect of these tests. Thus, the first-round extraction procedures dictate that the MREDD will attempt maximal extraction settings, in order to both stress-test the components and systems, as well as to garner data on the mana-extraction process at the maximal setting.¡± I blinked rapidly upon hearing the EVI¡¯s explanation being blasted from my suit¡¯s speakers. It felt somewhat jarring turning around to face my armor talking to me. But then again, I should¡¯ve expected it, as I¡¯d yet to set up any other speaker systems within the tent for it to speak through. ¡°I know, EVI. They already ran everything by me during the briefings. Though I would be lying if I didn¡¯t say I sort of hoped that putting the food under full blast for 7 hours would¡¯ve somehow miraculously resulted in something edible.¡± I managed out with a sigh. ¡°Cadet Booker, it is logical to assume that since the extraction of mana from both food and water is indeed viable, that the only point of contention is now the palatability of the foodstuffs rendered through the MREDD.¡± ¡°Yeah, well¡­¡± I trailed off as I began tapping on the loaf of bread that sounded like styrofoam when I hit it against the armor. ¡°I think you and I have different definitions of palatable.¡± ¡°I am confident that the mana-extraction process can be optimized, Cadet Booker. It is at this point that I must ask that you assess the palatability of the designated foodstuff marked CONSUMABLE GROUP A, ITEM 1, for the purposes of data-gathering and analysis.¡± The AI spoke in a no-nonsense fashion, as I turned around, giving it a look of utter incredulity. ¡°You want me to try to eat this?¡± I shot back, tapping on the styrofoam bread for added effect. ¡°I require data on the palatability of foodstuff A-1 [BREAD] as it is a subjective dataset relying entirely on the input of the human subject.¡± The AI continued. I couldn¡¯t help but to shudder at that last line, especially with how it was delivered. Popular media back home was currently going through another AI-apocalypse phase, with a lot of movies, both immersive and traditional, diving deep into the uncomfortable topics of human-AI relations post AI-takeover. Being stuck in a bare, white tent, with a monotone, somewhat disgruntled-sounding VI talking to me through a suit of armor several heads taller than me all the while suddenly referring to me as subject really wasn¡¯t doing my movie-binging gremlin brain any favors. I hesitated for a few seconds, tentatively staring at the bread, then the armor, then back to the bread again, before finally just going for it... CRUNCH It did not end well. ¡°Cadet Booker, I did not require that you actively consume a foodstuff you consider inedible or are uncomfortable eating. I merely needed a dataset for the purposes of this experiment, even if that data-set is a refusal to consume the foodstuff in question.¡± I stared back at the VI with unamused eyes and a mouthful of hard-tack currently turning my mouth into the Sahara desert. ¡°Damnghit Aeevi.¡± I managed out with a mouth full of bland, stale bread, before reaching for the water dispenser which thankfully still had some mana-free water inside of it. ¡°Shall I log A-1 down as unpalatable then, Cadet?¡± The AI spoke with a hint of disappointment in its voice. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Though I was probably just imagining the actual tone of its voice. Projection was a heck of a thing after all. ¡°Yes. And make sure you clarify your intent next time.¡± I snapped back, as I finished up what limited bits of housekeeping I needed to for now. Which included punting the balled-up undersuit into the washer, getting the wash and dry cycle started, before grabbing a fresh undersuit from the cargo airlock and quickly putting it on. ¡°I guess the next test with the MREDD includes extracting mana at a slow, sustained rate?¡± I spoke as I began recalibrating the different electronic components within the undersuit. ¡°Correct, Cadet Booker. Provided of course, that the foodstuffs are of a similar type, and contain similar properties to GROUP A.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± I responded promptly, shuddering a bit as the haptic feedback finished its calibration cycles. ¡°Alright then, we got a lot of work ahead of us, so let¡¯s get going. System status, SRR?¡± I asked as per protocol, steadying my hand on the suit¡¯s ¡®backpack¡¯. ¡°Diagnostics running¡­ pending¡­ All systems nominal, Cadet Booker. Status: Ready for standard operations.¡± ¡°Operator acknowledges system status after pre-mission diagnostics.¡± I replied dryly, and with a few final breaths I pulled myself back into the armor. ¡°Current objectives? Preferably the ones I listed before dozing off last night?¡± I continued, as my eyes quickly readjusted to the constant assault on the senses that was the HUD. ¡°Priority Objective: Locate and Secure Container 10. Current time remaining until activation of the Denial of Sensitive Assets to Unauthorized Parties Protocols¡­ 36 hours, 34 minutes, and 47 seconds.¡± ¡°Alright then, let¡¯s pay a visit to our dear old friend¡­ hopefully she¡¯s alive and lucid enough to get us to the bottom of this little predicament.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Thacea and Emma¡¯s Bedroom. Local Time: 1020 Hours. Emma Booker Transitioning from the tent to the marble and cobblestone world of the Academy was always jarring. Opening those external protective flaps to reveal something that wasn¡¯t more bare white paneling and drab gray composalite would probably be something I¡¯d need to get used to. I got into the swing of things quick enough, as I was met with the likes of Thacea who was busy reading on one of the many ornate seats that formed the mini-living room within our loft. ¡°Was the water to your liking, Emma?¡± Thacea asked with a clack of her beak. ¡°I managed to squeeze in a couple minutes worth of a shower, so that¡¯s a win in my book!¡± I beamed out. ¡°But with a constant stream of filtered water filling up my reservoirs now, I should be able to get something more substantial later tonight.¡± The princess nodded slowly at that. ¡°The lengths to which you need to go, just to attain what we take for granted on a daily basis, is quite remarkable Emma.¡± ¡°It is what it is, Thacea.¡± I shrugged in response. ¡°The very air I breathe needs to be filtered. This whole world, or heck, even your worlds are actively hostile to human life. These measures are something that are cumbersome, and seriously draining to deal with, but it¡¯s necessary. Besides, it¡¯s not as if these measures are something new where I come from. My people have had a history of intrepid explorers, brave pioneers, and foolish thrillseekers who all surge forward into inhospitable domains just so they can crest the next wave, or see what¡¯s over the next hill.¡± I paused for a moment, as I was tempted to strike a pose, but quickly decided against it. ¡°I¡¯m just furthering a legacy that¡¯s already been established. Or at least, I hope I¡¯m doing that. Heck if I know if I¡¯m actually doing things right. Nine times out of ten, I feel like I¡¯m just making the best of my situation.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t say I can understand the appeal of this legacy of actively seeking hostile-domains.¡± Thacea responded with an equal mix of curiosity and genuine concern. ¡°And I do not know what manner of civilization would result from such a culture, though I do harbor a morbid curiosity to inquire further¡­ However, I can most certainly resonate with your latter statements, Emma. Half of the court politics I contend with simply amounts to making do with the hand you¡¯ve been dealt, of making best of one¡¯s situation, and doing whatever it is in your limited scope and power to maintain life, security, and perhaps some waning semblance of your own personal liberty. It¡¯s a great game, where doubt comes naturally as a result of being a player and not the host.¡± There was a small pause that followed Thacea¡¯s response as one point in particular caught my attention more than any other. It was unfortunate that it was so topical as well, given how if things had turned out any differently, this conversation would¡¯ve moved right on into an hours-long exchange of life and culture. Thacea mentioning the concept of a great game, immediately brought me back to the conversation with Ilunor the previous night. ¡°Thacea¡­ would you mind if I consulted you on something?¡± I began, as the gears in my head began turning now at the first major issue of the day. The princess seemed to catch on as she leaned forward in her seat intently, and nodded. ¡°By all means.¡± ¡°Something happened last night at the workshop, and it wasn¡¯t anything to do with the armorer¡­ though, we can talk about that later.¡± I took a deep breath as I shelved that topic for another time. ¡°Did you happen to pay any attention to Ilunor¡¯s whereabouts after I left for the workshop?¡± ¡°Not particularly, no. Lord Rul-, erm, Ilunor had seemingly remained in his room until Thalmin and I retired to our respective rooms. After that, I simply have no recollection of anything beyond my own domicile.¡± ¡°Well, Ilunor followed me to the workshop.¡± I stated plainly, pausing for a moment to gauge Thacea¡¯s reaction. Of which there really was none as she managed to keep that signature poker-face that was probably second nature to her by now. ¡°And I¡¯m assuming since you managed to uncover this, that his meddling had failed in some way shape or form?¡± Thacea shot back coolly. ¡°Correct. However, here¡¯s where things get complicated. I¡¯ll save the bulk of the events for later, but long story short, that discount kobold decided to use some sort of a projection spell to spook me just as I was in the middle of the weapons inspection with the armorer, and the projection used wasn¡¯t just something a random monster or anything¡­ he purposefully chose to bring out a carbon-copy version of the null.¡± Thacea¡¯s face shifted at this, which given how difficult it was to phase her, probably meant her mind was going through the full implications of this revelation. I pressed on as Thacea urged me to continue with a single nod. ¡°Well, I shot it. And, no, nobody was hurt. Fast forward a chase sequence later, and the armorer eventually managed to corner and capture Ilunor. However, when we pressed him for answers about why he was there to begin with? Well¡­ I think it¡¯ll be better for you to see for yourself.¡± It was with this that I brought out my data-pad, and began replaying the relevant scenes for Thacea to see. Starting from the brief spats between Ilunor and the armorer, all the way to my confrontation with the diminutive lizard, Thacea¡¯s gaze remained completely transfixed. She did flinch a bit when the footage finally went over my dealings with the lizard, and Ilunor¡¯s sudden shift in persona as I pulled out the library card and began talking his language. Yet despite being inundated with this sudden flood of information, with a completely unexpected tangent, she soon responded coolly and without much in the way of a delay. ¡°This complicates matters.¡± She began slowly. ¡°This entire situation calls for a complete reevaluation of the dynamics of this peer group, and how we need to approach Lord Rul-, Ilunor.¡± Thacea promptly corrected herself before continuing. ¡°There¡¯s a great number of layers to this unexpected development, each of which hints at a greater game being played here, and points at the fact that there are a great number of interested parties beyond just Ilunor.¡± The princess took a moment to let out an exasperated coo, her eyes finally moving away from the tablet and back to me. ¡°You must understand as well as I, that Ilunor¡¯s actions do not constitute a scheme of his own making, correct?¡± ¡°That I do.¡± I nodded simply. ¡°The fact that he¡¯s even bothering to do this in the first place is outside of his whole I¡¯m above you persona. I¡¯m not sure if the same rings true here, but where I come from, becoming a spook is not something that most people in high and mighty positions would ever stoop down to. Besides, I think we have a lead. I don¡¯t think a student would actively defer a bit of punishment from a lower level administrator, in order to fast-track it to the highest authorities if they weren¡¯t in cahoots with them.¡± ¡°This coincides with my observations of these developments as well, Emma.¡± Thacea responded with a resonant chirp. ¡°To add to this, his knowledge of the null is most certainly not circumstantial, and considering he was absent from our adventures the previous day, his knowledge of this creature would hint to either the feeding of information via a higher benefactor, or a direct observation of our activities from afar. Either way, this does not bode well.¡± ¡°This leads me to what I wanted to consult you on, Thacea. If Ilunor¡¯s out there waiting for us right now, would it be best if we confronted him outright in front of Thalmin or-¡± ¡°No.¡± Thacea interjected sharply, and with a certainty that was almost uncharacteristic of her. ¡°Confronting Ilunor out in the open, in front of others not privy to you and the Vunerian¡¯s current game, would be outright suicide to the dialogue you¡¯ve managed to broker with him the previous night. You¡¯ve managed to prove yourself as not just another pawn, but a player in the game, at least in Ilunor¡¯s eyes. It would be wise to maintain that momentum, Emma. By continuing this line of dialogue with him in private, there is a higher likelihood the Vunerian will divulge more information as he speaks to you frankly, beyond what his current facade will allow. This is now a matter between you and the Vunerian, as Thalmin and I are not privy to these political transactions.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to mimic the princess by gripping my forehead as well, letting out a sigh as the dread of complex court politics had begun seeping in faster than I expected. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be too hard to do. I¡¯ll just let that situation slide for now, making sure not to mention my dealings with Ilunor when he¡¯s around, and focus instead on our other problems. It¡¯s not like we have a shortage of other things to worry about after all.¡± I sighed sharply. ¡°That is an acceptable plan. ¡± Thacea responded promptly as she stood up and began straightening out her uniform. ¡°Right then, shall we proceed?¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 1025 Hours. Emma Booker As we exited the bedroom, we were once more met with a similar sight reminiscent of the previous day¡¯s. As there, on the couch, were the bickering pair that had seemed to have carried over their arguments from the previous night. Except this time, the context seemed to have thankfully shifted to something new. ¡°Every minute I waste in this room for the sake of that Earthrealmer is another minute that I grow increasingly more famished. It is unbecoming of a noble to sit in waiting for a commoner. In fact, it should be the other way around. Or perhaps this is yet another one of your Havenbrockian reforms that test the Nexus¡¯ patience, Prince Thalmin?¡± I could hear Ilunor snapping at Thalmin just as we made our way into the living room proper. Thalmin, amazingly, resisted responding in kind as he got up as soon as we made our way towards the pair. ¡°We were waiting for the both of you, but it should be fine. Should we miss the breakfast, there is always an a la carte menu we can-¡± ¡°I have met the criterion for your unlawful detainment, mercenary. Thus, I shall take my leave.¡± Ilunor promptly jumped off from the couch and began trotting his way over to the door, his little legs were clearly attempting to generate some sort of a forceful series of thumps as he did so, but only resulted in a light series of taps given his diminutive size. ¡°Hold on a minute there! That wasn¡¯t our agreement! You agreed to-¡± ¡°I agreed to wait for the Earthrealmer and the tainted one. I have no other reason to be here. Now, I must resume my extracurriculars. You lot can do whatever it is you get up to. I will be having none of it.¡± Ilunor turned to face the Lupinor one final time, before slamming the front door shut, and skittering off. This made things so much simpler as it meant we were in the clear for now. ¡°I¡¯m sorry princess.¡± Thalmin turned to face Thacea. ¡°I thought we might be able to squeeze something out of him yet, but the Vunerian continues to be as squirmy as a prairie rodent.¡± ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Thalmin.¡± Thacea began, as she turned towards me as if to confirm whether or not I wanted her to proceed on my behalf. To which I did. ¡°There are a few matters we must address regarding Ilunor, which I suggest we do over a short breakfast, as we have even more pressing matters following this.¡± After a reluctant pause, the lupinor prince nodded in agreement, leading to both of us sitting down- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 275% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS -and a privacy screen being brought down soon after. ¡°So, shall we talk about this over a brunch platter?¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to the Healing Wing. Local Time: 1050 Hours. Emma Booker Thalmin¡¯s reactions were nothing short of what I¡¯d expected. There was absolute outrage, followed by an unrepentant series of growls, capped off with barks of seething anger at the same clips I¡¯d played for Thacea earlier. The mercenary prince was perhaps even more uncomfortable than I was at my entry into this game, as it was clear Thalmin despite his noble heritage, wasn¡¯t really one to dabble in it at all. ¡°I¡¯m telling you Emma, this is a dangerous path forward. Are you certain you are making the wisest choice?¡± He spoke once again, continuing the conversation from earlier, underneath yet another privacy screen Thacea was maintaining as we approached the medical wing. ¡°I don¡¯t like it either, Thalmin. There¡¯s nothing more I hate than playing politics, but it¡¯s unfortunately a pill I have to swallow if we¡¯re going to get to the bottom of the issues surrounding Ilunor. I mean, I overheard you guys arguing late into the night. I really don¡¯t think confronting him normally is going to get us anywhere.¡± The lupinor let out a sigh of defeat at that, as he lowered his head in my general direction. ¡°I can¡¯t fault that logic, Emma. Perhaps¡­ speaking his language, as you put it, would bring us some resolution to this frankly irritating problem. However¡­¡± The Lupinor¡¯s voice lowered, just as we were about to reach the doors to the healing wing proper. ¡°I know how these games work, Emma. It¡¯s dangerous, so make sure you tread lightly, and just know that I, as part of your peer group, am here to support you should the need arise.¡± The prince reassured me with a smirk, as we pushed past the double doors and into the medical wing proper. Or at least, that¡¯s what I thought, as we entered what looked to be a massive circular room with multiple branching hallways connected to it like spokes on a wheel. In typical Academy-fashion however, the room really wasn¡¯t at all modest with its size. As it went up a solid twenty or so stories, with high pillars piercing straight up into a marble-lined rotunda with moving murals painted on it like some grand cathedral. Between these pillars were little outcroppings where several gargoyles were perched. Gargoyles which I could swear were looking straight at us. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 425% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS My gut was proven right again, as it only took a few seconds after our entry for these stony beasts to come to life, with multiple bursts of mana-radiation accompanying what could only be described as the sounds of cracking concrete. Soon enough, several large gargoyles made harsh, heavy landings right in front of us. The two closest to us held out their arms, before zapping two stony spears into existence, crossing them in a clear display to stop us from going any further. ¡°Halt!¡± A voice commanded from above, as a shadowy figure landed right in front of the two gargoyles blocking our path. The figure¡¯s face was hidden underneath an unnatural shadow casted by his hood, revealing just two trapezoidal lights where his eyes should be. ¡°The healing wing is currently off-limits to visitors. So state your ailment, or leave where you came from.¡± The voice boomed, echoing throughout the large open space, as all eyes within the room now landed squarely on us. Chapter 33: Skip Cutscene A staredown soon ensued. One that neither of us seemed to be willing to let up on. But as far as staredowns went, this one was pretty evenly matched as neither of us really had the ability to ¡®blink¡¯, or at least as far as an outside observer could see. My whole schtick was pretty obvious, the tinted lenses were more or less just doing the job for me, taking blinking out of the equation entirely and adding a solid plus ten to my intimidation base stats. The shadowy cloaked figure¡¯s approach was just downright bizarre though, as instead of eyes, there were just these two trapezoidal ¡®lights¡¯ that I assumed were supposed to be a placeholder for his actual eyes hidden somewhere underneath the shadowy void casted by his hood. A void which was downright pitch black, and completely impenetrable to the naked eye. The figure gave off a surreal vibe as his rogue-like attire, coupled with the hood and the impenetrable shadow it casted, looked like it¡¯d been ripped straight out of a Castles and Wyverns art book or a high-fantasy comic. The pitch-black void that obscured his face, and those two trapezoidal eyes that hovered and shifted with increasing scrutiny, just didn¡¯t look real. While most would leave it at that, I wasn¡¯t one to leave a mystery hanging, I was a human with an entire visual sensor suite to work with for crying out loud. So before I even knew it, I reflexively went to activate my night-vision cameras.Only to see that the shadowy effect covering up his face was still there. This led me to only one solid conclusion. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A quick localized environmental scan made it clear to me that this was yet another one of the Nexus¡¯ weird mana-fueled acts of tomfoolery. ¡°What say you, first years? Are you here for healing, or are you here for a visit? For as I have stated, the healing wing is not accepting visits at this point in time.¡± The hooded figure answered with this strange mix between a sing-song voice and an attempt at sounding gruff and gravely. ¡°We have an unfulfilled point of personal privilege that requires addressment.¡± Thacea stepped up to the plate, promptly placing herself by my side, then taking several steps forward. ¡°Along with an unresolved conflict which requires immediate resolution by the party with which the aforementioned point of personal privilege was evoked but was halted due to unforeseen circumstances.¡± The princess began flexing her courtly-talk with the hooded figure, which clearly seemed to have some effect as he reached up a single gloved hand up to where his chin should be, only to have his fingers disappear as soon as they entered the dark shadowy effect currently covering up his face. ¡°And with whom is this unresolved matter incurred?¡± The figure inquired plainly, though the way he spoke shifted to something a bit more accommodating, perhaps even a little bit more hospitable than the gruffer tone he¡¯d initially directed towards me. ¡°An apprentice, good sir. Apprentice Larial to be precise.¡± Thacea clarified politely, using what I could only describe as this flighty, chirpy, almost haughty tone of voice that was an exaggerated version of the cadence she used during our first interactions together. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± The hooded figure replied with a concerned grumble. ¡°I was going to waive this particular matter, allowing the fair lady-¡± He paused, before making a point to stare at both me and Thalmin. ¡°-and her two knights to pass on through, under the points of exceptional circumstances.¡± He continued in a less restrained, more flighty cadence. ¡°However, you must excuse my inability to do so, my lady. My hands are currently tied via the powers that be, and I simply cannot grant your request.¡± The man began weaving a string of apologetics, giving Thacea a genuine and polite bow in response. ¡°I must apologize for this discrepancy in expectant decorum.¡± This didn¡¯t make things any better for our circumstances though. And it was clear Thacea understood this as she continued pressing forward. ¡°May I have your name and title, my good sir?¡± Thacea chirped lightly. ¡°Appointed-Deputy Magistrate Sir Arlan Ostoy, Senior Apprentice of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. May I have the honor and the privilege of requesting your name, my fair lady?¡± ¡°Princess Thacea Dilani, of the Aetheronrealm, First Year and Scholastic Peer of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts.¡± Thacea replied with a full bow, and a half-curtsy of her own. ¡°A pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± The shadowy figure bowed yet again. ¡°The pleasure is all mine, Sir-Magistrate.¡± Followed by yet another bow by Thacea. There was some serious song and dance going on here, and one that I was observing with bated breath. ¡°Might I inquire further as to the particular reasoning behind this unfortunate and unseemly inability to respect the rights of expectant decorum?¡± Thacea quickly shot back. ¡°As I have alluded to, your highness, the powers that be prevent me from furthering the natural solution to your particular grievances. If this were any other instance in time, at any other location or place, I am sure this matter would have been resolved in an expedient and timely fashion. This situation, as you have alluded to yourself, results from a very particular set of unforeseen circumstances. Circumstances which currently dictate my actions in a manner which just so happens to be in conflict with your points of personal privilege, your highness.¡± The man¡¯s posture, the way he stood, even the way he talked seemed very particular when addressing Thacea. It was at that point that something changed. I didn¡¯t know what, and I wasn¡¯t sure why, but Thacea seemed to be shifting towards a tactical retreat, as she clacked her beak several times before addressing the both of us. ¡°This is absolutely preposterous, I will need a moment to clear my mind but when I do return¡­¡± Thacea turned towards the magistrate/guard/apprentice person yet again. ¡°There will be words exchanged.¡± At Thacea¡¯s prompting, we all left the room, but not before slamming the door behind us shut in a similar manner to Ilunor¡¯s drama-filled exits. We continued walking away from the medical wing at a steady pace, until another privacy screen was suddenly brought up. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 275% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°I have a plan.¡± Thacea began. ¡°And this is entirely relying on you two having the physical prowess to back up your military backgrounds.¡± She continued ominously. ¡°Oh princess, you sully the Havenbrock name if you believe my mercenary heritage is in any way, shape, or form a mere decorative mantlepiece.¡± Thalmin responded with a sarcastic, yet excitable tone. ¡°I assure you, Thacea, I think my training has almost every eventuality accounted for.¡± I added with an affirmative nod. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡± Thalmin barked out excitedly as we stopped right in the middle of this long, wide hallway connecting the main castle with the medical wing. Thacea was quick to answer this question by wordlessly gesturing to a lone door on the right side of the hallway. Windows lining either side of the hallway made it clear that this entire structure was just an elevated bridge connecting the main castle to an entirely separate compound. This made the presence of a door smack-dab in the middle of its length sort of bizarre. Upon entering it though, we were treated to an open-air rooftop terrace with a few seats and benches. The whole outcropping gave us an unparalleled view of the roaring waterfall beneath the Academy, and a direct line of sight to the medical wing and its five distinct towers. The princess continued walking silently as we reached the edge of the terrace¡¯s balcony, overlooking the sheer cliff face at a height that more or less put me in mind of your typical open-air rooftops on your typical Acela Corridor skyscraper. ¡°I¡¯ve observed that the medical wing seems to consist of a large tower-atrium, with several more towers connected to it via additional corridors. Similar to spokes on a wheel. As you can see from this vantage point, it seems as if most rooms have private balconies. If we cannot make our way to the apprentice via conventional channels, then I plan to reach her via more unconventional means.¡± Thacea turned towards me with a hardened look in her gaze. ¡°Emma, is your¡­ insect artifice ready for use?¡± My eyes widened at that, as I nodded affirmatively. ¡°Just for the record, we call it a drone.¡± I quickly corrected Thacea. ¡°But, yes, I can designate individuals and targets for it to track down or follow. However, I can¡¯t just have it poking around in every room since there¡¯s no guarantee that the drone will be able to get a lock on them. There¡¯s too many variables involved that would get in the way of the drone actually being able to zero in on a person¡¯s face. From the beds facing the right way, to bandages possibly covering up her face, to-¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want your artifice to observe every balcony and window, Emma. That will most certainly take too much time, and as you¡¯ve stated, there¡¯s no guarantee of actually identifying a face considering the multitudes of factors involved.¡± Thacea interjected. ¡°What I plan to do is to return to the Deputy-Magistrate, and to attempt to reach a compromise that he will abide by. I plan for him to take us, or rather, your drone straight to the apprentice.¡± ¡°And how will you accomplish this?¡± Thalmin whined,his head tilted in curiosity. ¡°I will draft a letter, addressed directly to the apprentice, and request that it be taken straight to her room. This way, the Deputy-Magistrate will in a sense be able to accomplish his obligations to the Expectant Decorum, and in doing so he will lead your insec-, drone, straight to the apprentice¡¯s room.¡± I stared at Thacea with wide eyes, as her back and forths with the deputy-magistrate began taking on a completely different meaning in this new light. ¡°That way, we can find out exactly which room the apprentice is in.¡± I replied bluntly. ¡°Correct. However, from there, I cannot say my plans are in any way foolproof.¡± Thacea replied with a sullen coo. ¡°Well go on, princess, it sounds pretty good so far!¡± Thalmin urged. ¡°Ascertaining the apprentice¡¯s room is only half of the stated objective. Actually getting there is another matter entirely. Because depending on where the apprentice is located¡­ my idea for the latter half of this quest involves you two scaling your way towards her room.¡± The princess spoke with an immense level of trepidation. ¡°On the exterior aspect of the castle, if that needed to be said.¡± My heart skipped a beat as the princess laid out her plans. I looked across the absurdly spindly hallway-bridge that this little terrace was somehow attached to, and towards the five towers that made up the medical wing. Thalmin did the same, although his face seemed to indicate that he was at the very least, considering the plan at least somewhat seriously. ¡°Alright.¡± I muttered out loud, instinctively trying to place a palm on my forehead, only for the glove to bonk straight off. ¡°I have several ideas. First, we might be able to do this remotely. I¡¯m thinking once we find out which room she¡¯s in, we fly in a larger drone, one carrying with it a deployable holographic projector or some other two-way communications device so that we can talk to her remotely.¡± As soon as I spoke that idea out loud however, things started to fall apart. ¡°But because of how thick the walls are, and considering the distance between the tower and our dorm, I might have to deploy repeaters in order to daisy-chain the connection all the way back to the dorms. I mean, we can¡¯t just set up shop out here in the open after all. At which point we¡¯d have a continuous chain of signal-repeater drones flying all across the Academy¡­ which wouldn¡¯t be ideal. No, scratch that, that won¡¯t work.¡± The pair stared at me with varying degrees of confusion, but seemed to have collectively decided to ignore the idea after I¡¯d scrapped it. ¡°I say we just climb it!¡± Thalmin yelped out, but not before another idea hit me. One that could work, but that required me consulting Thacea first. ¡°I mean, we could, but¡­¡± I turned to face Thacea. ¡°What¡¯s the Academy¡¯s policy on noise? Or rather, do you think we could get away with something really really loud, buzzing outside of the towers?¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Thacea once more stared at me with a look of just utter confusion, but shrugged it off and went with it anyways. ¡°I would highly recommend against generating too much noise for this particular quest, Emma. It would most certainly garner a lot of unwanted attention.¡± Thacea spoke plain and simple. I couldn¡¯t help but to groan internally in frustration at that. That makes flying over there a no-go¡­ it would¡¯ve made things so much easier though¡­ ¡°Alright, well, that more or less places us in a very awkward situation with not a lot of options available to us, huh?¡± I thought to myself out loud again, as I craned my head over to an excitable Thalmin. ¡°I guess I have to climb on over.¡± I stated in no uncertain terms. ¡°Wait, I?!¡± Thalmin responded with a shocked and incredulous bark. ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯m allowing you to climb over there yourself without assistance or-¡± ¡°Thalmin, there¡¯s no need for you to climb on over with me.¡± I interjected. ¡°This whole mission is hedged on me talking to the apprentice one-on-one. Remember the gardens? The apprentice wouldn¡¯t allow you anywhere near us when we started talking. It¡¯d be a waste of time, energy, and more importantly¡­ a huge risk to your safety. I don¡¯t want to risk your life needlessly, Thalmin. Not especially for a fight that isn¡¯t your own.¡± ¡°Well you¡¯re part of our peer group, so it¡¯s my fight as well.¡± Thalmin replied with a dejected growl, but eventually relented. ¡°But you¡¯re right, Emma. I hate to admit it, but you¡¯re right.¡± I nodded at Thalmin¡¯s slowly. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s an important job I need you to do.¡± I began scrounging through one of my pouches, and began palming for my spare in-ear earpieces. ¡°I need you on lookout, to keep me aware of anything fishy developing in case I need to pull out.¡± Thalmin looked over the side of the terrace, towards the raging waters beneath this side of the Academy as he let out a sigh. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be too hard. Hardly anyone will be passing by this terrace, and beyond that there¡¯s no way anyone can spot you from below, given there¡¯s nothing but the cascading rapids below us. There¡¯s no one that can spot you from here, save for perhaps the foxes in the library. We¡¯re most certainly on the right side of the Academy for this quest, that¡¯s for certain.¡± Thalmin pointed at the library in the far distance. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not too worried about anyone seeing me. I¡¯m more concerned about someone compromising my extraction point, i.e. this little terrace here.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°But, surely you must be worried about someone seeing you scaling the walls¡­¡± Thalmin scanned me up and down, as if wanting to comment about my size but- ¡°You¡¯re massive.¡± ¡°Okay, first off, rude.¡± I spoke sarcastically, and raised both hands up for added effect. ¡°But in all seriousness, I have another device that can mask my visual presence.¡± I pulled out a plastic-like poncho from one of my pouches, activating it, and revealing its active-camo properties as it projected whatever was behind it, albeit with some imperfections. ¡°It isn¡¯t perfect, but from afar it should actually work pretty well.¡± Both Thalmin and Thacea stared at each other in utter shock as they saw this. ¡°A mana-less-¡± ¡°I think¡­ this is a matter worth discussing another time, Princess.¡± Thalmin interjected with a polite exasperated breath. ¡°But I expect a good explanation for this one, Emma.¡± Thalmin pointed a finger right at me. ¡°In any case, I will be diverting the Deputy-Magistrate¡¯s attention by preoccupying him with needless and vapid chatter. This should take attention away from the apprentice and your intrusion, Emma.¡± Thacea quickly added, and promptly tied this whole impromptu operation up nicely. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get this show on the road then. We¡¯ll head back to the dorms and get that letter drafted so-¡± ¡°Already done.¡± Thacea interjected, bringing up a parchment that she promptly began sealing into an envelope. ¡°Wait, when did you-¡± ¡°Whilst we were talking, I used a dictation spell. The letter is written and signed.¡± Thacea spoke nonchalantly, as she held a neatly sealed envelope in one of her talons. ¡°Wait, what, when did you, how did you-?¡± ¡°I carry a quill and extra parchment in my bag of holding. This is to account for any eventuality where a statement in writing, a legal affidavit, or a notarized letter may be required.¡± Thacea responded a-matter-of-factly. ¡°Alright then.¡± I tapped the pouch with the INFIL-DRONE, the small little thing peeking its head out much to the visible disgust of the pair. ¡°So we¡¯re ready for phase one of the operation. Misdirection and information gathering. We¡¯ll go in, drop the letter, and have the drone do its thing. After that, we wait for the drone to return, and we¡¯ll take it from there on whether or not we can continue with Phase Two: penetrating the enemy lines.¡± ¡°What would be stopping us from continuing with phase two?¡± Thalmin quickly asked. ¡°Well, simple. If the apprentice is still conked out from her injuries, there wouldn¡¯t be any point in attempting to meet her. So hopefully, she¡¯s going to be in a good enough state to talk to. We¡¯ll know when we get the drone footage back.¡± ¡°Fair point.¡± Thalmin nodded. ¡°So, is everyone ready to begin?¡± Thacea asked. A series of affirmative nods later, we began our quick walk back over to the atrium.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Extraction Point Alpha (Open Air Terrace Overlooking the Medical Wing). Local Time: 1420 Hours. Emma Booker That took way more time than I¡¯d initially thought. In fact, it took so long that I was beginning to wonder how two people could have an unending conversation where nothing of value was spoken and nothing of value was gained. It was basically elevator small talk, but written by the same writers who wrote Bridgerwesson Lane, and adapted to a theatrical release with a trilogy that ended with a movie arbitrarily cut up into a two-parter. I honestly zoned out for a few moments during those hours, as I decided to use the spare time to review the grappling hook and mountaineering gear I¡¯d be using on this little quest. Eventually however, the Deputy-Magistrate relented, at which point I let loose the INFIL-DRONE to do its thing. It¡¯d been twenty minutes since we left and made our way back to this open-air terrace, and all of us were waiting with bated breath for the results the drone had in store. ¡°So, how fast can that drone of yours fly anyways Emma-¡± Thalmin was immediately cut off as the drone in question buzzed right by his ears, causing them to flick this way and that, before flattening out entirely. ¡°Speak of him and he will come.¡± I chuckled, as I outstretched a gloved hand over for the little drone to perch atop of. Once again, the pair stared at it with a look of mild disgust, and then panic as it crawled all the way back into its docking port, and began uploading the data we needed. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what we have here.¡± I spoke to no one in particular before shifting my attention to the EVI. ¡°EVI, isolate and replay relevant footage, and calculate the target¡¯s location.¡± ¡°Acknowledged, parsing¡­¡± ¡°Location Parsing. Footage isolated. Play Footage?¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± I immediately pulled out my data-tab for the gang to be able to watch as well, as the footage began just as the Deputy-Magistrate, and by extension the drone, arrived at the apprentice¡¯s room. The door, and all details posted in the front were all captured, and so too was the state of the apprentice revealed to us in short order as I braced myself for a mangled and bandaged-up mass of broken bones. What I instead saw, was¡­ still a heavily bandaged up figure. However, the most important thing was that they were awake. And what was remarkable, was the fact that they were able to move without assistance. As the apprentice reached over to receive the letter wordlessly, shifting a bit in bed as she did so. ¡°This is a letter addressed from a Princess Thacea Dilani of the Aetheronrealm. I have fulfilled my duties and obligations as per the Expectant Decorum. I will now take my leave, Apprentice Larial.¡± The deputy-magistrate spoke with the same air of overbearing properness, seriously making me consider whether or not this was how he was all the time. Whatever the case may be, the apprentice seemed to be healed enough to move her arms at the very least, as she grabbed the letter and spoke hoarsely back in response. ¡°Thank you Senior Apprentice.¡± There wasn¡¯t much to the footage beyond those interactions, but it was good enough for the purposes of this mission. ¡°Alright.¡± I spoke, as I pocketed the tablet. ¡°We have our answer. The apprentice seems healed up enough to speak to, so phase two of this operation is a-go.¡± The pair nodded in response, just in time for the EVI to be done with whatever calculations were needed to determine the apprentice¡¯s precise location. I turned to the tower, as the room and its balcony was highlighted. It was just about five stories above from where we were. Meaning it¡¯d be a hell of a climb. ¡°The room¡¯s about five floors up.¡± I announced with a sigh. ¡°Are you sure you can make that journey, Emma?¡± Thacea responded worryingly. ¡°I¡­ I will be honest, Emma, I am having some second doubts about this whole idea. The concept just came to me as flying between tall structures and towers is just second nature to us Aetheronrealmers. Considering the heights involved, and your inability to fly, I¡¯m wondering if this whole quest was a folly of my own shortsighted-¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, Thacea.¡± I cut the avinor off. ¡°I can do this, trust me.¡± I placed a single hand on the princess¡¯ shoulder, and squeezed it once for effect. Meanwhile, the EVI began doing what it did best: attempting to minimize the risk associated with my harebrained schemes, as it deployed the suit¡¯s primary lookout drone in order to start mapping out the best possible route forward. This spooked the pair yet again, as they both jolted backwards. Thankfully, the drone was deathly silent, so it shouldn¡¯t bring too much attention to it. It was at this point that I brought out a pair of earpieces I was scrounging my pouches for earlier, one for Thacea, and another for Thalmin. ¡°These will help you stay in contact with me throughout the climb.¡± I stated plainly, as I attempted to latch it onto my own ear for demonstrative purposes, only to realize that I could not, given the suit was in the way. I sighed, as I turned towards Thalmin. ¡°Do you mind if I put it on for you?¡± I asked sheepishly. ¡°Erm, what is it, Emma?¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± I paused, as I attempted to find the best way to describe this without taking up too much time. ¡°It¡¯s a communication artifice, Thalmin. It¡¯ll allow us to talk to each other remotely, relying on that drone there-¡± I pointed at the lookout drone still flying away from us. ¡°-to relay our voices to each other.¡± Thalmin, as expected, looked at me with an expression of partial dumbfoundedness whilst Thacea seemed completely transfixed by the earpieces I held in my hands. ¡°So it¡¯s like a hearing-sense?¡± Thalmin responded with a questioning bark. ¡°Look, I¡¯ll just demonstrate.¡± I managed out with a sigh as Thalmin reluctantly nodded and allowed me to begin hooking in the earpiece, looping it around his fluffy triangular ears. This inevitably resulted in my hand brushing over the lupinor¡¯s fluffy head a few times, which seemed to elicit some large tail-wags and a dulcet rumble. I tried to ignore that, as I pulled back and began demonstrating. ¡°I¡¯ve turned off my speakers, can you still hear me, Thalmin?¡± ¡°Yes, I can.¡± The lupinor spoke after clearing his throat. I turned my speakers back on immediately after. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll get into the specifics of how it works later, but as for now, just know that I can hear whatever you say.¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t think that artifice will be compatible with my¡­ anatomy, Emma.¡± Thacea spoke calmly, as she pointed at several aspects of the earpiece that required an actual ear canal to fit into, and an earlobe to loop around. ¡°This complicates things a bit, but it shouldn¡¯t be too difficult. How long do you think you can keep up the distracting conversation with the deputy-magistrate for, Thacea?¡± ¡°We just went through several hours discussing nothing in particular, I can most certainly continue that trend from dusk till dawn.¡± The avinor spoke confidently, and frankly, rather proudly. ¡°The issue lies not in how long I can manage to maintain the conversation, but in how long it will take you to accomplish this quest, Emma.¡± Thacea shot back. ¡°An hour.¡± I nodded confidently. ¡°Twenty minutes to scoot my way over there, twenty to talk to the apprentice, and twenty to get back.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll make that two hours then.¡± Thacea responded without a second thought. ¡°We need to account for potential complications, and an extra hour of senseless dialogue will most certainly not be an issue for me.¡± With an affirmative nod from me, and an approving glance from Thalmin, I now turned towards the exterior of the two hundred foot corridor leading to the concourse, and the extra five hundred feet it would take to get from the atrium to the tower in question. It was at that last minute that the EVI brought out another suggestion, one that was formulated with the aid of the new datasets provided by the FEBNPMS lookout drone that had been busy mapping out the best route forward. It was¡­ an inherently riskier approach, one that my aunt would definitely not approve of, but it definitely beat scaling a wall and wedging spikes into it. ¡°Actually¡­ I have a better idea than simply scaling the walls.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to Medical Wing Tower C, Room 705. Local Time: 1430 Hours. Emma Booker ¡°Grapple secure.¡± I will never forget the feeling of falling. The very wrong feeling that came with leaping off of solid ground into empty sky, of suddenly seeing and feeling the world whizzing by me. It was a visceral feeling, a gut-churning sensation, dominated by an overbearing sense of impending doom that takes over your terrestrial brain that wasn¡¯t designed to feel the ¡®freeing¡¯ sensation of being unbound to the ground beneath you. Leaping over from the edge of the terrace was the worst part of it. But after that tentative jump, things started to become just a little bit easier. The Academy¡¯s proclivity for over-aggrandized architectural design would finally serve a purpose beyond just decorative aesthetics. Because it was clear that the walls weren¡¯t really designed to ward off anyone daring to scale them. As there existed several, if not hundreds of these little greebles and outcroppings that served no purpose but to act as decorative pieces on the side of the castle. Some held stone flowers, whilst others had lamps or other light pieces of varying designs. No matter what they were, or what meaning they held, all were equal and valid targets in the eyes of my grappling hook. As I dangled there from the first outcropping, held in place by a single high-tensile cable, I looked up to see Thalmin looming over the edge ¡°EMMA?!¡± I heard him shout in a panic. It was clear that he was unable to see anything, as my light-refraction cloak was currently doing its job well. ¡°I¡¯m still here, Thalmin. You can¡¯t see me but I¡¯m dangling from this weird outcropping that looks like an overinflated vase.¡± ¡°NEXT TIME, BE SURE TO INFORM ME AS TO THE NATURE OF YOUR IMPOSSIBLE ARTIFICES BEFORE USE, UNDERSTOOD?!¡± ¡°Of course. You¡¯ll know if I¡¯ve fallen if you hear a long scream followed by a large splat.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not funny!¡± I chuckled nervously in response, before turning to face the grueling, gut-churning journey ahead of me. ¡°Humor¡¯s my way of dealing with stress, and trust me, I have a lot of stress to work through right about now.¡± Chapter 34: Grappling with the Problem Video games made using grapple guns look easy. Recreational climbing made me feel like it was impossible. Military training managed to temper my expectations, and combine the best and worst of both worlds into something actually doable. My aunt, however, had some very strong opinions on their use. ¡°Grappling Hooks? In the modern military? What do you take me for, a fucking goober?¡± I heard my aunt¡¯s voice echoing loud and clear as the day my 14 year-old mil-sim-lite obsessed self dared to ask her that dreaded question. ¡°But Aunty Ran, surely there were times where a grappling hook was useful in one of your deployments?¡± I¡¯d ask back, excitedly as well, given how a certain infamous Call to Valor title had more or less featured it throughout the game, and had single-handedly propelled the image of a grapple-launcher wielding TSEC trooper into public consciousness. ¡°The Jovian Uprisings was a stint that lasted barely a year, and was more or less limited to station combat. Where the hell would I have found time to use a grappler?¡± ¡°When the station broke in half and you had to grapple onto the other side in order to save your squad? Come on, Auntie, they said that that scene was based on a real life war story! Yours!¡± ¡°Okay fine. I was the goober who rocked up two uses of a grappler out of the five logged in the entire deployment. But just so you know, they exaggerated that scene in that silly game of yours since they had artistic license, Emma. Now, what do you want to know about grapplers?¡± ¡°I wanna know if the game did it justice or not.¡± ¡°Okay, what did the game teach you?¡± ¡°Well, you target where you want the grappling hook to go.¡± ¡°Uh-huh.¡± ¡°Then you shoot the grapple.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± ¡°Then, you fling yourself off the edge, while shooting the next grapple, then unlocking the original one, and you just repeat the steps like you¡¯re swinging across vines!¡± My aunt¡¯s deathly silence was challenged only by my puppy-dog-eyed perseverance, so she eventually did relent. ¡°I guess that¡¯s one way of using it, if you¡¯re a fricking goober. Any other questions?¡± ¡°Erm, how do you get good at using them?¡± ¡°Simple. You don¡¯t. You use it once, in your entire career, then forget it exists. Then you spend the next two decades of your life training for another use-case scenario that never comes, and you never really get over the vertigo either. The trick is to just not use it. And if you do, don¡¯t use it in rapid succession like it¡¯s some kind of a fucking superhero toy. It¡¯s not for swinging around like a monkey. It¡¯s for sticky situations where you need to hold onto something, or launch yourself between two spaces. But heck if I know how to get good at that silly game of yours, because real life is a heck of a lot different, even more different than training will ever have you believe.¡± And she was right, real life was definitely a heck of a lot different. Because when you were out here in the field, when you actually looked down to see neither an END-SIMULATION pop-up, a physical safety net, or an instructor waving you on, things became fundamentally different. Especially when what was straight down was nothing but a two-thousand foot drop into white-water rapids, courtesy of the Academy¡¯s insane decision to build its campus atop of a raging fucking waterfall. ¡°Anchor-point secure. Target 1 reached. Locking onto the next target.¡± The EVI¡¯s voice announced loud and clear, completely cutting through any and all anxiety-driven doubts I had, its overbearing assertiveness was remarkably useful in keeping me grounded and out of what my instructor liked to call the panic zone. ¡°Target locked.¡± My eyes were now drawn to the HUD¡¯s reticles, as it locked onto another one of the many large decorative outcroppings jutting out of the castle walls. This one looked like some sort of a large pot with exaggeratedly large flowers sticking out of it. ¡°Requesting operator status: Confirm readiness.¡± I started shuffling in place, adjusting my orientation in mid-air, as I began reorienting the suit¡¯s mounted grapple-launcher. ¡°Operator ready, fire left grapple.¡± ¡°Firing [L] Grapple in 3, 2, 1¡­¡± THUOOMP! The launch of the grapple was accompanied by a strangely satisfying sound that was disturbingly similar to the one made by old-fashioned grenade launchers. Though to be fair, more seasoned specialists claimed that you could actually hear the electrostatic discharge from the magnetic rails prior to the signature thuoomp. I couldn¡¯t make it out though. But that was probably because all I could hear between the right grapple launching, and the clanking of metal against solid stone were the constant thump thump thumps of my heartbeat resonating deep within my eardrums. ¡°Unlocking Anchor-point on Target 1 in 3¡­ 2¡­ 1, Forward-motion commencing.¡± The world flew by me as I felt that gut-churning lurching of my whole body weight being flung on a single anchor point. Vertigo threatened to kick in hard, as training and discipline were the only two things keeping it from outright sending me into a panicked frenzy. The swinging was mitigated though once my whole body had successfully transitioned forward by a whopping 20 feet, and up another 5 feet, as the stabilizers were doing their best to prevent the forward momentum from going too wild. ¡°Anchor-point secure. Target 2 reached. Locking onto the next target.¡± The next target the HUD¡¯s reticles had locked onto was an outcropping in the shape of a large lantern. ¡°Target locked.¡± ¡°Requesting operator status: Confirm readiness.¡± I once again shuffled in place, now battling against the residual momentum that still swung me back and forth. A likelihood-of-success indicator next to the targeting reticles flew back and forth between the green and the red, as if to reinforce the fact that death was just a single error away. ¡°Operator ready, fire right grapple.¡± ¡°Firing [R] Grapple in 3, 2, 1¡­¡± THUOOMP!
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Medical Wing Tower C, 5 Feet Right of Room 705¡¯s Balcony. Local Time: 1505 Hours. Emma Booker I¡¯d made it. I felt like jello, I could feel bile rising up to my throat, and my breath struggled to remain just short of the panic zone, but I made it all the same. It took over 50 grapples, and each one was just slightly different enough that it never got much better. I totally understand now why my Aunt called this an exercise in goober-tactics. Whatever the case was, now was the time to shift from goober operator mode, and back into diplomacy mode. Which was definitely going to be awkward, and a heck a lot more difficult to do compared to the garden episode, considering the fact that this would be covert diplomacy Romeo and Juliet style straight onto a balcony. There were a lot of ways I could approach this. However, a part of me just wanted to start swinging, generating enough momentum to then slam right through the balcony doors and into the room. A star-studded entrance befitting of an operator. Alas, the mission parameters didn¡¯t allow for it. If this were anything but a semi-covert operation, I would¡¯ve entertained that idea with a lot more seriousness. With the way things were developing however, I knew I had to get clever about this. I could just land sneakily onto the balcony and start tapping on the window. I could also try getting the apprentice¡¯s attention by shining a light or a laser through or something. The list of ideas that I hadn¡¯t considered until I got up to the last leg of the journey was growing exponentially with each passing second. However, as fate would have it, I wouldn¡¯t get to use any of those ideas. The doors to the balcony suddenly clicked, unlocking themselves as the apprentice hobbled her way over to one of the ornate chairs on the balcony. ¡°I was informed that there might be someone outside wishing to speak to me, in private?¡± The apprentice started looking around. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 545% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS And just as quickly began casting a few spells in an attempt to scope out my presence. The active-camo really was doing wonders. ¡°Yes, erm, it¡¯s me, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± I managed out awkwardly, as I decided against actually landing on the balcony, or even taking off my cloak¡¯s active camo for that matter. ¡°I¡¯m wondering if it¡¯ll be alright if we talked like this? You know with-¡± ¡°Do not speak.¡± The apprentice interjected sharply, as another mana radiation warning probably signaled the creation of a privacy screen. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 275% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°Keeping yourself out of sight would be a prudent way to go forward with this illicit meeting, yes.¡± The Apprentice managed out with a frustrated sigh. ¡°Just let it be known, that under almost all other circumstances, I would find this manner of discourse entirely unacceptable. However¡­ given how things have developed, I believe it would be safe to say that this particular instance would fall under one of the few exceptional circumstances in which I will tolerate this unconventional meeting.¡± The apprentice paused, taking a moment to struggle into the reclined chair as she weakly raised a hand to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Yeah, I know this is a bit unconventional, but as I said before, the issue I need to bring up with you is something that is deathly serious. You don¡¯t think I¡¯d risk my life climbing over here just to finish¡­ whatever the heck this whole point of personal privilege is now would you?¡± The apprentice paused, as if she was actually taking that rhetorical question into serious consideration, which gave me genuine concern as to how far these Nexian social conventions actually went. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t rule it out, some of the nobility hedge their entire identities on the basis of honor, bound to the expectant decorum and the rules that bind.¡± The apprentice managed out coolly, before shifting the small talk into an entirely new direction I wasn¡¯t at all expecting. ¡°But I digress. I owe a debt to you, Emma Booker, one that transcends my duties and responsibilities as an apprentice of the Academy, and the scholarly ties that bind.¡± ¡°A debt?¡± I parrotteed back, my mind going blank on what the elf could mean for a solid second, before it finally hit me. ¡°You mean what happened in the gardens? Listen, apprentice, I just did what I had to do, and what was right at the time. There¡¯s no need for this whole debt business alright? Anyone half decent would¡¯ve done the same. Plus, it was more or less just self defense at that point.¡± The apprentice shook her head vehemently at that. ¡°It is one thing to defend oneself against an active threat, and in doing so, saving others around them by virtue of the necessity to save themselves. It is another matter entirely to act out of the goodness of one¡¯s heart, to go beyond self-preservation, but to act with empathy and compassion to the lives around oneself. Through accounts from the Gardener to the Master-Healer, to my own limited recollection of the events from the garden, I have come to understand that you belong to the latter categorization. I have also been led to believe that it was likewise your prompt actions that led directly to my chances of survival being far greater than what they would have been had you not been there in what the Master-Healer calls the life-saving seconds. And because of all of this, I Larial Essen, now owe a life debt to you, Emma Booker.¡± I didn¡¯t know what to say to that, as my whole focus had now entirely shifted away from the weird sensation of my whole body swaying gently in the breeze held on by a single tether, to this whole medieval-era life debt business that I had no cultural context for. It felt oddly surreal to have someone be pouring their heart out like this, to have someone be actively crediting me for saving their life when I felt like I honestly hadn¡¯t done much at all. ¡°I¡­ erm, thank you, Apprentice, for the kind words.¡± I managed out in a half-confused, half-dazed manner as I tried to recover from that radical shift in the conversation I hadn¡¯t at all expected. ¡°Words are not a requisite for gratitude, Emma Booker. Most certainly not in this instance. You should be less humble about your heroics, as the humble can only go so far in this world.¡± The apprentice paused ominously as it was clear she was considering her next few words carefully. ¡°It is unbecoming for a being of your capabilities to be so restrained.¡± It genuinely felt as if the Apprentice wanted to carry that conversation forward, opening her mouth only to close it shut soon after. It was only after a solid half a minute of silence did she finally raise the issue she wanted to address. ¡°The manner in which you dispatched the null is as unconventional as the means by which you have assailed the heights of these castle walls; which in and of itself is a feat impossible to most mages or anyone with conventional biology. I wish to address these matters in greater detail. I wish to understand just what those three successive cracks of lightningless thunder were, and how they were capable of neutralizing the threat of the null¡­ but that would be unbecoming of me. This is your conversation after all, Emma Booker, and I need not take up more of your time by diving into a series of interrogatives which I have no right to ask.¡± The apprentice¡¯s whole shift in tone was radical, at least by the Nexus¡¯ standards where it felt like every single person in authority was more or less an immovable force of nature, with the sole exception of Sorecar of course. So this willingness to actually hear me out, despite it necessitating me saving a person¡¯s life, was progress that I honestly wouldn¡¯t question. At least not until I got the crate situation sorted. ¡°Thank you for taking this whole situation seriously, Apprentice.¡± I started out politely, seeing that there was no need to ram the issue in her face as this whole exchange more or less proved to me that the elf was finally willing to listen. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much you remember of the events before the¡­ incident, so I¡¯ll just be blunt in my recap. I know for a fact that Professor Mal¡¯tory not only knows about the whereabouts of my missing crate, but has taken possession of it. While that¡¯s a whole issue and a genuine offense in its own right, I didn¡¯t climb all the way here just to start a fuss about theft.¡± I paused, waiting for the apprentice to interrupt me like she did in the gardens. I even gave her ample time to raise her voice in vehement denial about my blatant accusations. But nothing came. This prompted me to continue. ¡°This is about a threat which is lying in wait within the box, Apprentice.¡± I spoke in no uncertain terms. ¡°Because inside that box is a fail-safe: a mechanism designed to protect the contents within from tampering and misappropriation. The mechanism¡¯s sole purpose is to destroy, and its destructive potential is contained only by the six metal panels which make up its walls. It is a destructive device, and under typical conditions, it is a safe device. It was not designed to kill, but given the right parameters, it can and will.¡± I half expected the apprentice to raise her nose up at that, to enter the denial Olympics yet again, but she didn¡¯t. Instead, she reacted in the exact opposite way I¡¯d expected her to, as the color from her face began to drain, and her pupils began dilating, leaving only one thing present in her eyes: fear. Without any interruptions, I pressed forward, trying my best to bridge the apprentice¡¯s fundamental systemic incongruence as I had done before with Thacea. ¡°The protection afforded by the box¡¯s metal panels have their limits, and more worryingly these limits can be overcome. The device is designed to activate when it senses that these limits are being purposefully tampered. The device is also designed to activate after a certain amount of time has elapsed. These two factors will determine if and when the destructive potential is unleashed, and there is no means of preventing its activation if the former or the latter conditions are fulfilled. The only means of preventing the possibility of this destructive potential being unleashed is by returning the crate to me, as only I have the ability to prevent its activation.¡± I paused for effect, before hammering home my message with a simple, resonant warning. ¡°There is nothing else in the Nexus that can prevent this, and I do not wish for humanity''s diplomatic legacy to begin with a preventable tragedy incurred by flagrant acts of pettiness.¡± The apprentice¡¯s face shriveled inwards, her whole body slid deeper and deeper into the reclined chair. Her eyes looked almost hollow now, as without someone to really focus her attention to, she instead zoned out towards the town in the far distance. ¡°A mechanism¡­¡± The apprentice finally spoke up, breaking up that nerve-wracking bout of silence with a similarly shaky voice. ¡°... similar to the one you utilized in order to defeat the null?¡± ¡°Different.¡± I replied plainly. ¡°But suffice it to say, we have had time and experience with the tempering and taming of many a destructive force, most of which we harness for benign purposes¡­ though some of which we¡¯ve commandeered just for destruction alone.¡± ¡°But what need would a newrealm have to create such novel artifices-¡± ¡°What need would the Nexus have of creating the null?¡± I shot back almost immediately, with a hint of a sneer in my voice. ¡°What need would the Nexus have of creating a bathroom that molds itself to a user? Or a spear which can kill fifty people at once? Same logic applies to us. We have our own unique problems to solve, and our own issues to address. We have an inherent drive to innovate, with or without, mana.¡± The apprentice once again grew silent, her shaky breaths becoming steadier and steadier still. She sat like that for a full minute, refusing to respond until she regained some semblance of her own composure. ¡°If we were having this conversation in any other context or setting, I would have had you penalized for not only openly declaring such threats, but also daring to undermine the fundamental truths we hold as self-evident.¡± The apprentice began, her voice on the verge of cracking, as I wasn¡¯t sure if it was fatigue or FSI that was getting to her first. ¡°However, considering recent developments, I must at least consider this threat as a real and present danger that requires addressment.¡± The apprentice paused, as she craned her head towards my general direction. ¡°I assume the responsibility of preventing this tragedy falls squarely on my shoulders? As I am to act as a liaison between yourself and Professor Mal¡¯tory?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what this whole meeting¡¯s about, Apprentice.¡± I responded plainly. ¡°There¡¯s nothing more to it.¡± The apprentice took a moment to turn back towards the town, taking several deep, steady breaths before continuing with a renewed look of determination. ¡°Then I will do what needs to be done, and I will say what needs to be said. This is going to be much more complicated than the delivery of a simple memorandum, Emma Booker, I hope you understand that.¡± I shrugged. ¡°The past few days have taught me that my very existence tends to make everything more complicated than it should, so that¡¯s nothing new. Though, you have my thanks for deciding to tackle this situation with the seriousness it deserves.¡± ¡°Gratitude is not necessary, Emma Booker. This is only a small price to repay for the life debt I now owe. Do not take my willingness to entertain the possibility of this danger, as my admission to a reality-altering narrative that you purport as truth.¡± The apprentice spoke solemnly, before shifting the direction of the conversation towards an unexpected tangent. ¡°For the record, Emma, this entire situation wasn¡¯t born out of a flagrant act of pettiness as you put it.¡± The apprentice quickly added. ¡°What? Listen, I¡¯m sorry if that was a bit rude of me to say, but I really don¡¯t know any other way to put it. Professor Mal¡¯tory stole what was mine. I could¡¯ve used a euphemism, something like an act of misappropriation of property or something, but I just wanted to call it what it is, Apprentice.¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s not the intent of my point of clarification, Emma.¡± The apprentice responded promptly, visibly wincing as she moved to face my general direction, probably figuring out where I was based on where my voice was coming from. ¡°This wasn¡¯t an act of pettiness, nor was it an act of theft.¡± She stated, before shifting her gaze away for a brief moment, as if she was considering her next words very carefully. ¡°Professor Mal¡¯tory wished to reclaim what is rightfully the property of the Academy, and by extension, the property of the Crown.¡± This sudden ¡®revelation¡¯ threw me off, as I narrowed my eyes at the apprentice despite her inability to see me or my face under the helmet. ¡°What do you mean by that, Apprentice?¡± I shot back. ¡°We noted a discrepancy in that specific box, a sign which indicates that there exists a mana-based artifice within it. Now, that on its own is not grounds for the withholding of one¡¯s property. It is instead the specifics and the peculiarities of what was inside, that prompted the seizure, as we detected a Minor Shard of Impart within it. This is the very same artifact we gift annually to all realms in order to maintain the uninterrupted web of status-communicatia, including your own, Emma. What¡¯s more, we noted several discrepancies with its properties, discrepancies which suggest your kind have changed it, in ways completely unforeseen.¡± Confusion hit me first, followed by a sudden chill that ran up my spine as I realized exactly what the apprentice could be talking about. I turned off my speakers for a moment, as I quickly addressed the EVI. ¡°EVI, we¡¯re going to have some words after this.¡± ¡°Acknowledged, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Now I want you to bring up the schematics of the Exoreality Communications Suite, and narrow down what exactly the apprentice could be talking about. Can you do that for me?¡± ¡°Acknowledged, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°The engineers in the ex-com department can¡¯t have fucking done what I think they¡¯ve fucking done.¡± I whispered under my own breath, before addressing the EVI proper. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about this when we¡¯re back on solid ground. It¡¯s time to wrap this whole thing up.¡± With those terse few words out of the way, I turned my speakers back on to address the apprentice. ¡°Whatever the case may be, the danger we face still stands.¡± ¡°Of course¡­¡± The apprentice nodded, as she shifted the conversation back on track. ¡°I require one more point of clarification to ask of you, before I am able to fulfill my responsibilities in this task, Emma.¡± ¡°Alright, shoot.¡± ¡°You mentioned two particular parameters which when fulfilled, will activate this artifice¡¯s destructive potential, one of them being time. Exactly how much time do we have left, Emma?¡± ¡°Exactly 31 hours, 29 minutes, and 27 seconds, Apprentice.¡± I quickly read off of the countdown timer permanently affixed to the upper right hand corner of my HUD. The apprentice visibly flinched at that answer, as her gaze now sat squarely on the town, as if she was trying to focus on something else to rid herself of the stress that had just been added onto her plate of worries. ¡°I will request for an early discharge sometime tonight.¡± The apprentice announced with the first hints of anxiety finally creeping into her voice. ¡°Though the Master-Healer doesn¡¯t like granting such requests.¡± She reached her hand to clasp her forehead. ¡°Nevertheless, I will attempt to gain an audience with Professor Mal¡¯tory as soon as I possibly can.¡± ¡°And how will you notify me about where and when I can meet-¡± ¡°I will call for a gargoyle, or a messenger elf, or some other form of letter conveyance to deliver a letter of appointment to you. If you cannot be found, then the letter shall be delivered to your quarters.¡± The apprentice promptly interjected, answering my question before I could even finish asking it. It was clear she was now on edge, as the time limit seemed to have incentivized her to hit the ground running with this newfound quest. ¡°Thank you.¡± I responded simply, prompting the apprentice to begin shuffling back to her feet. ¡°If that is all, then I suggest you leave post-haste, Emma. This entire illicit meeting has gone on for long enough as is. Provided of course, you have nothing else to ask of me?¡± ¡°No, that¡¯ll be it, thank you Apprentice.¡± I answered, before adding sheepishly. ¡°I hope you get well soon.¡± The apprentice merely nodded once in reply, as I took that as my cue to leave. With another deep breath, I turned to face the outcropping immediately underneath me, as it was time to rappel downwards. ¡°Target locked. Requesting operator status: Confirm Readiness.¡± ¡°Operator ready, fire right grapple.¡± ¡°Firing [R] Grapple in 3, 2, 1¡­¡± THUOOMP! Chapter 35: We Do What We Must, Because We Can THUD! ¡°Extraction point reached. Equipment Status Report (ESR): High-Performance Maneuverability Gear (HPMG) - Nominal, Active Camouflage - Nominal. Requesting operator status.¡± I let out a series of heavy, breathy pants, fighting my stomach¡¯s desire to appease the vertigo gods by chucking up my less than impressive breakfast consisting of a single bite of crispy bread and a tube of nutripaste. My whole body had all but given out, and I would have crumpled into a sorry heap of sweaty human if it wasn¡¯t for the EVI activating the suit¡¯s in-armor positional reorientation mode, keeping the armor nice and rigid whilst I squirmed inside. To the outside observer, and most notably to Thalmin, I would¡¯ve arrived with the flair of your typical videogame protagonist. Having gracefully, and rather epically might I add, landed on both armored feet whilst simultaneously decloaking and retracting both the grappler and its tether. I even did the thing they taught you in training where you followed-through when the grappler was fully retracted, meaning I¡¯d pulled both of my arms back just as the grappler housing unit clanked shut; resulting in me inadvertently striking a pose just to cement my triumphant return. Tween and teen Emma would¡¯ve loved seeing this, and would¡¯ve given anything and everything to be present-Emma. Present-Emma, however, wanted nothing more than to die right now. ¡°Elevated Heart Rate, Blood Pressure, and Respiratory Rate detected. Cadet Booker, do you require medical assistance?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m fine.¡± I managed out through a stifled hiccup. ¡°Affirmative.¡± The EVI replied mechanically. Then as if nothing happened, it repeated the query from before in the exact same tone and cadence. ¡°Requesting operator status.¡± I groaned out in annoyance at that. But what was I expecting from a military VI? Some fake commercial-grade faux-compassion protocols? ¡°Operator status: nothing to report, just some mild nausea and vertigo.¡± ¡°Affirmative. Do you wish for me to administer anti-nausea medication, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°Affirmative. Terminating Battlefield Networking and Combat Maneuverability Assistance Runtimes, standby.¡± Just like that, I found half of my HUD suddenly freed up. The various programs and subroutines that were practically carrying me through that whole sidequest were suddenly terminated, their processing power being reallocated to the EVI as the virtual intelligence took back all of its real-estate with a ravenous hunger. ¡°Emma.¡± I heard the voice of a certain wolf prince breaking through my reverie. ¡°That was¡­ just¡­¡± I could hear him leading up to a compliment, a gushing one at that if that wagging tail was any indicator, but he stopped halfway. Instead, he decided to step forward, only to punch one of my shoulderguards with his fist. ¡°Ya didn¡¯t need to show off you know!¡± He spoke through a toothy grin. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to prove and no one to prove it to, so calm down with the theatrics there, my would-be rogue!¡± He continued, giving out a series of hefty, hearty chuckles as he did so. ¡°You¡¯re performing to an audience of one!¡± I snickered outwardly, before responding with a healthy shrug and an unseen smirk. ¡°Where I come from, flashiness and practicality aren¡¯t mutually exclusive. But thanks for the considerate words, I¡¯m glad to know I have a future as an entertainer or a rogue if things between the UN and the Nexus turn sour, or should my stint at the UN not pan out.¡± The lupinor let out a single dry chuckle at that, baring his fangs as he did so. ¡°It¡¯s good to have an exit strategy, should things indeed take a turn. Which reminds me, how did things go with the Apprentice?¡± The lupinor¡¯s tone took a shift at this, as he transitioned from that playful banter into a more serious tone of voice. ¡°Did our gambit work out?¡± ¡°I would probably be fulfilling my surname¡¯s namesake and be booking it out of here if things had gone south, Thalmin.¡± I began with a bout of sly humor. Thalmin¡¯s expressions however, didn¡¯t seem to reciprocate my attempt at a joke. I took this prompting to correct my course, as I purposefully cleared my throat before continuing. ¡°In all seriousness, Thalmin, things went surprisingly well. The apprentice didn¡¯t freak out. In fact, she seemed quite receptive. More receptive than I honestly expected, but I think a lot of it has to do with what she calls a life-debt? I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s a literal thing here in the Nexus, but given how serious she seems to be taking it, I bet it had a pretty significant impact on how she took my request; especially when you consider the unconventional way I went about getting to her in the first place.¡± ¡°A life-debt?¡± Thalmin parroted back with a severe look on his face, his snout actually wrinkling as he said that. ¡°Did she actually use those words, Emma?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°The apprentice¡­¡± The lupinor paused, trailing off as he seemed to be trying to find the right words. ¡°...Is proving to be more honorable of a soul than I initially gave her credit for. Life-debts aren¡¯t something to be trifled with, Emma. They are as socially binding as they are honor-binding. So this is rather significant progress. Please, continue.¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing much more than that to our conversation to be honest. We talked about the crate, I emphasized how big of a threat it posed, and she agreed to help. She said she¡¯ll be talking to Mal¡¯tory ASAP, probably sometime tonight.¡± I shrugged, before I realized a pretty sizable revelation that I¡¯d all but left out. ¡°There was a pretty non-insignificant development that I wasn¡¯t really expecting from the whole exchange though.¡± I muttered out under a half breath, eliciting quite a few visible twitches from the lupinor¡¯s triangular ears. I took this as my cue to keep on going. ¡°You remember how it was pretty obvious that they were singling out that crate specifically, right? From the videologs we reviewed a few days ago?¡± ¡°Yeah, I do. I¡¯m assuming she told you more about what it was that triggered that response?¡± ¡°Correct, and it wasn¡¯t what I was expecting, like, at all. The apprentice claims, and I quote: that Professor Mal¡¯tory wished to reclaim what is rightfully the property of the Academy, and by extension, the property of the Crown.¡± Thalmin¡¯s features began shifting yet again at that revelation, a dour severity took over, as the lupinor¡¯s eyes began to dilate with a look of genuine unease. ¡°Emma¡­¡± He began with a throaty breath. ¡°What exactly did your people put inside of that box?¡± ¡°Well, the apprentice called it a Minor Shard of Impart. She said-¡± ¡°Stop. Did you just say a Minor Shard of Impart?!¡± Thalmin interjected with a solid, guttural bark. ¡°Yeah I did. So after that she said-¡± ¡°WHY DID YOUR PEOPLE FEEL THE NEED TO PUT A PLANAR-LEVEL GIFTED ARTIFACT INTO YOUR PERSONAL BELONGINGS?!¡± The lupinor prince shot back with a series of loud, ear-shattering barks, each one louder than the next, which for a split second managed to surprise and overwhelm the EVI¡¯s automatic volume adjustments. ¡°I have an answer for that.¡± I managed out with a sheepish tone. ¡°I really do, but you gotta give me a sec.¡± ¡°DON¡¯T THINK YOU CAN JUST GRAPPLE AWAY FROM YOUR PROBLEMS EMMA-¡± ¡°No, no. I¡¯m not going anywhere. I just need to check something real quick, alright?¡± With a look of utter confusion from Thalmin, I switched off my external mic, turning to the EVI as I addressed it with little room for patience. ¡°So, schematics of the ECS? What did¡¯ya find there, EVI?¡± ¡°The Minor Shard of Impart corresponds to a component designated as the AM-d-002b Low-Bandwidth Exoreality Unidirectional Narrowband Pulsator [AM-d-002 L-BEUNP], colloquially known within the exo-com department as the Trans-Dimensional Tranceiver.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound really Nexian to me-¡± ¡°AM-d-002b being short for Anomalous Material-derived object, Cadet Booker.¡± The EVI quickly interjected, providing me with a neat little correction that could¡¯ve just been stated outright. ¡°Wait, 02? I¡¯m assuming this was the second crystal of its kind to be sent to the IAS? The one they kept talking about in D-Wing?¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°I thought they said the thing¡¯s power-source went kapoot ages ago? How did they-¡± Warning: 10 successive attempts at physical confrontation detected. ¡°Emma?¡± Thalmin¡¯s voice over-rid the conversation happening inside of the suit, his hands were currently placed on either side of my shoulders as he was shaking me, or at least attempting to, for good measure. ¡°Emma are you alright?¡± ¡°Yeah! Yeah. I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°You completely froze for a solid minute there. I was getting worried.¡± Thalmin paused, his expressions shifting from concern to a patiently questioning one. ¡°So, you¡¯re sure you¡¯re alright?¡± ¡°Yeah! I just needed some time to find an answer.¡± ¡°Alright, good. So, you¡¯ve found an answer then?¡± ¡°Yup!¡± ¡°Alright then¡­ WHY?!¡± I let out a nervous sigh, uncertain of what it was the big brained whitecoats at home had gotten me into. ¡°Erm, because some of our scientists and engineers were trying to construct a device that allows for communication between different realities. Now, I wasn¡¯t exactly briefed on the specifics since I had a lot of other things to worry about during training. But long story short, we¡­ kind of just retrofitted the magic crystal to send what we want it to send, instead of what it was intended to send.¡± Thalmin¡¯s eyes looked like they were about to pop right out of his head, as I could practically feel him fuming through all the layers of metal, composites, and nanoweave. ¡°You¡­ you actively, knowingly, and willingly repurposed a Nexian Gift?!¡± ¡°I mean, the apprentice said she also detected that it had been modified in a sense, so would that fit the bill for repurposing or-¡± ¡°YOU ACTUALLY DESECRATED A NEXIAN GIFT?!¡± ¡°Hold on just one sec.¡± I said sheepishly yet again, as I went through the motions of pinging the EVI for more details. ¡°EVI, anything to say about the whole modification and desecration thing?¡± ¡°The component in question was designated as an Anomalous Material-derived object, Cadet Booker. The designation of 002 categorizes this as the second of the Nexian objects sent through the portal to the IAS. The sub-designation of b categorizes this object as having been deconstructed into two discrete components, namely: AM-d-002a, and, AM-d-002b.¡± ¡°So that¡¯s what they were talking about when they said they had an easy-solution to the issue of entanglement, they literally just decided to break the damn thing in half. That¡¯s¡­ I can¡¯t even be fucking mad to be honest with you.¡± I began laughing, half because of the stress, and half because of the ridiculousness of it all. ¡°That¡¯s fucking brilliant.¡± I finally turned back to Thalmin, who seemed to still be a bit wary at my sudden introspective escapades, but was willing to go along with it. ¡°We erm¡­¡± I instinctively reached my arm behind my back, in an attempt to scratch the back of my neck, but was once again met with the unyielding presence of the armor being in the way. ¡°I mean, if your definition of desecration involves stuff like breaking the crystal in half then I guess we might have done it?¡± Thalmin¡¯s mouth hung agape at that answer, as not a single sound escaped his gaping maw. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I know it sounds insane, but it was necessary in order to-¡± ¡°Emma¡­¡± Thalmin stopped me in my tracks by what could only be described as a cross between a dulcet growl and a concerned whimper. ¡°Do your people have a death wish?!¡± ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a gift, and they even said it as such. We even reiterated it. It was a gift that had a practical and utilitarian purpose: to act as a tool to facilitate communication between realities. Besides, they¡¯re designed to go kapoot after a while right? So what¡¯s the harm of just repurposing one that¡¯s already dead?¡± ¡°It¡¯s because you weren¡¯t supposed to. Its purpose is to serve as a tool for communication, yes, but after its utility has gone, what instead remains is its symbolic significance . I¡­ I think Thacea will be better at coming up with a concise explanation of this. What I do know is that these gifts are meant to be cherished, as a sign of mutual respect. What gave your people the impression that this was even a good idea to begin with?¡± ¡°The portal people, as we knew them at the time, emphasized that they wanted us to keep exploring all avenues to reach them. They were also incredibly vague about what they expected from us. Now, we didn¡¯t really have a lot of options, so I think our guys kind of assumed that the crystals might have been part of that whole process to reach the other side. So, we just went at it.¡± I shrugged. ¡°The natural evolution of this is the repurposing of that project for our home-grown exo-com project.¡± ¡°The¡­ they¡­ the¡­ the portal people¡­¡± Thalmin began breathing in and out rapidly, before he started to cackle, his whole chest heaving up and down in a series of uncontrolled laughs. ¡°The portal people, upon first lines of discourse, encourage new realms to further expand on their mana-based practices. When they said you were supposed to explore every possibility to reach them, they meant everything but the desecration of a planar-level artifact intended as a gift.¡± The lupinor paused, taking a moment to regain his footing as he leaned against one of the terrace¡¯s many ornate statues. ¡°I don¡¯t know whether to be terrified for your people for having committed this brazen act of defiance, or completely ECSTATIC by this flagrant disregard for adjacent realm stately decorum.¡± His eyes pierced straight through those two lenses and right into my soul. ¡°Can you just answer me one thing, Emma?¡± ¡°Go for it.¡± ¡°Why did your realm assume that it would be a good idea to try using a Minor Shard of Impart for your own machinations?¡± I tried to come up with an answer, I really did, but only one thing came to mind. An answer that was sort of a non-answer, but was a good one all the same. ¡°It¡¯s because we¡¯ve had a long history of tricking much smaller rocks into thinking. I think our scientists just assumed that tricking a much bigger, fancier, magic rock into talking for us wouldn¡¯t be that big a leap from that time-honored tradition.¡± My answer seemed to have hit harder than expected, as the lupinor mercenary prince¡¯s face looked as if he¡¯d just logged out of this conversation. I was left there with a completely broken prince, on a completely empty terrace with the winds starting to pick right up. Looking up, I saw rainclouds starting to form, as it was clear any open-air spaces were probably going to be soaked pretty soon. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s head on inside. Thacea¡¯s about due to come back right?¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Hallway Connecting the Castle to the Medical Wing. Local Time: 1725 Hours. Emma Booker It had been three full hours since Thacea had entered the medical wing to conduct her misdirection mission. Three full hours of what I could only imagine was an endless onslaught of vapid conversation points that would¡¯ve all but fried my brain into a goopy mess of oobleck. I¡¯d expected our bird princess to return with a dead look in her eyes, or worse, as a completely reprogrammed zombie having been subsumed back into the Nexian ways. Reality however, couldn¡¯t be further from the truth. As Thacea arrived with the same determined gaze she¡¯d given us when she left. In fact, there wasn¡¯t even an ounce of fatigue behind those sharp copper eyes. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 275% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS She even managed to pull up the privacy screen without breaking a sweat. Though to be fair, I wasn¡¯t really sure how difficult those were to get set up. ¡°This is most certainly a welcome surprise.¡± Thacea began, slowly but surely shedding that haughty ¡®proper¡¯ cadence, and entering into that earnest tone of voice that honestly felt more at home with the person she was. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see both of you are well.¡± The avinor took a moment to pause as she noted Thalmin¡¯s expressions. This seemed to be enough for Thacea to gather that something else had recently developed. ¡°Emma, could you please tell me what exactly happened with the apprentice?¡± The princess spoke with a preemptively timed exasperated sigh.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 1755 Hours. Emma Booker It was probably a good thing that Thalmin was the first person I talked to about the true nature of the ECS, because it was clear that Thacea had a lot more to say, but was keeping her side of things deathly silent until we finally returned to the dorm. It was clear she was using the commute time for all it was worth, as those eyes never once let up in their intensity throughout the entirety of our walk back. It was only after the doors to the dorm had closed did she finally relent, letting out a sigh as she turned towards me, then Thalmin, before gesturing for the both of us to take our respective seats on the living room couch. ¡°And that¡¯s all you¡¯ve told her about the significance of the Shard of Impart?¡± Thacea kicked things off by directly addressing Thalmin. ¡°Yes. I mean, you must forgive me princess, I wasn¡¯t one to regularly frequent the Havenbrockian Ministry of Adjacency. It was more my sister¡¯s prerogative, as I was training for the ranks of the military, before finally being singled out for the Academy.¡± The lupinor prince shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s quite alright.¡± Thacea managed out politely. ¡°I¡¯ll take things from here.¡± The princess now turned towards me, as those avian eyes once more pierced straight through my opaque lenses. ¡°Emma, what your realm has done is something that few would ever think to do, much less dare to act upon. Stately Decorum deems gifts as less of a transference of ownership, but rather, a transference of ownership with caveats. Namely, that the item in question be undefiled, and is to be in the same condition it was received. It is a matter of courtesy, and a test of due diligence. The modification of a gift not only violates Stately Decorum, but it also is a taboo that hearkens back to The Great War. Beyond this, the very nature of it being one of the scant few magical artifacts capable of planar-level magic, is yet another strike against your favor in the eyes of the Nexus.¡± Thacea laid it all out for me, as it was clear she wasn¡¯t done with just that topical explanation. I honestly expected nothing less from her. ¡°The Minor Shard of Impart is one of the fundamental cornerstones which underpins the Status Communicatia, the forum of inter-realm diplomacy that ties all realms to the Nexus. During the war, these shards were purposefully shattered, as a sign of rebellion against the Nexus. Legends say that its shattered remains were repurposed into a new system of Status Communicatia, one that doesn¡¯t rely on the Nexus as its focal point. Though many question whether or not this venture was successful, the act of destroying a Minor Shard of Impart has become synonymous with open discontent, or outright rebellion. Now, since Earthrealm is still considered a newrealm, I¡¯m certain this offense will not be considered in the same light. I believe what Professor Mal¡¯tory is truly concerned about is what you claim to be¡­ a means of repurposing the Shard of Impart for your own purposes.¡± The princess paused, as the wave of just¡­ everything was already starting to hit me hard. Everything made so much more sense now that she put things into perspective, and provided me with that crucial historical precedence that changed everything. ¡°Emma, you do realize that if your artifice works, it would be analogous to the legendary counter to the Status Communicatia. It would be proving a principle that has all but been shrouded by the sands of time. I believe this is why Professor Mal¡¯tory has taken possession of your artifice, Emma. It¡¯s not just for the purposes of saving face from the embarrassment you inflicted on him during orientation. It¡¯s also not simply because it¡¯s an offense against the Stately Decorum. I believe that one of the major instigating factors is in fact the destruction, modification, and repurposing of your realm¡¯s Minor Shard of Impart.¡± Thacea stated concisely, causing both Thalmin and myself to turn towards each other with a look of outright disbelief. ¡°I¡­ fuck this is becoming way more intense than I thought.¡± I paused, before leaning in closer. ¡°How do you know so much about this whole thing, anyways Thacea?¡± ¡°Knowledge has always been one of the few weapons in my arsenal to ward off against the others within my court that would prefer I was no longer a nuisance and a blight on the realm. Rather than pursuing potential mates, sharpening my talons or my blade, or honing in my web of connections, I instead focus also on the accumulation of every scrap of knowledge I can muster. You will be surprised how certain esoteric bits of knowledge can be used to one¡¯s advantage against many a royal and noble.¡± Thacea spoke in coldly, and in no uncertain terms, before turning to face Thalmin. ¡°No offense was made to your endeavors of sharpening your claw and blade of course, Thalmin. I was merely providing my side of the story.¡± ¡°No offense taken princess, you know how things are in Havenbrockrealm. It¡¯s far less¡­ intense, and far more casual than the court life in Aetheronrealm.¡± I took a few moments just to breathe after that entire spiel, as Thacea and Thalmin¡¯s gazes now landed on me. ¡°So, I do have a few questions about this Minor Shard of Impart business.¡± ¡°Go on, Emma?¡± Thacea chirped affirmatively. ¡°Why can¡¯t your realms just make their own?¡± I asked bluntly, as a part of my memory quickly harkened back to that conversation with Sorecar. Maybe this was the result of the same issue? ¡°Two primary reasons. One: lack of expertise. Two: a lack of significant enough levels of mana to allow for the propagation of the crystals used to make the minor shard of impart. You must understand, Emma, the minor shard of impart is a truly planar-level artifact. Not just an artifice, but an artifact. It isn¡¯t so much created as it is birthed from the earth itself. This is the result of a combination of geology and mana that can only be found here in the Nexus. This is why the Nexus gifts these shards annually, as the ambient environmental mana of adjacent realms are incapable of sustaining its use. The less mana a realm has, the more shards are sent to resupply that adjacent realm, as the internal mana stores of these Shards of Impart deplete quicker the less ambient mana a realm has. Which begs the question¡­ how are your people so certain that this artifice will even work? By what means are you assuming you can simply break a Minor Shard of Impart in half in order to communicate back to your realm?¡± ¡°Yeah, didn¡¯t you say Earthrealm was a mana-less realm, Emma?¡± Thalmin quickly added. It was at this point that I turned to the EVI, who had already conveniently pulled up a diagram of the ECS, particularly of it in-action. I went to work reading the simplified diagram, before I finally got it. My eyes grew wide as I saw just what the white coats at home had concocted, and to say that I was beyond ecstatic at what the science boys had come up with, would be nothing short of an understatement. ¡°Simple, princess.¡± I started, as I grinned wildly underneath my helmet. ¡°We¡¯re just using the same rules you just outlined.¡± Thacea¡¯s face went completely blank for a moment, as something very quickly clicked in her head, leading to two eyes which shot back a look of complete and utter disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re not implying that-¡± ¡°Oh yes I am.¡± I interjected with a snicker growing ever more prominent. ¡°We¡¯re in the Nexus are we not? The MREDD has already proven a simple principle, that our artifices are capable of shoving mana from one area to another, hence why my tent is mana-free. It¡¯s not that hard to consider the possibility of pushing mana from the ambient air already rich in it, back into a small enclosed space. And you said it yourself: the crystals are only capable of growing naturally here in the Nexus due to the sheer concentration of mana here. The Exoreality Communications Suite has a dedicated series of mana extraction chambers designed expressly for the concentration of mana back into the chamber with the crystal. I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s enough to make it work, right?¡± Thalmin¡¯s face was all but glowing with complete and utter excitement, as he turned to Thacea as if to gauge her reactions to my small little explanation. The avinor¡­ was expectedly, completely floored. ¡°As simple as that is¡­ This actually might work.¡± She admitted with a breathless sigh. ¡°There¡¯s something about you Earthrealmers that just keeps putting a smile on my face, Emma.¡± Thalmin panted back with an excitable grin, punching the side of my armor with a furred fist as I could only look back with a look of genuine giddiness. ¡°How about we take tonight to leave for a small feast in the grand dining hall? The apprentice will be talking to Professor Mal¡¯tory tonight won¡¯t she? I¡¯m certain the professor will summon you sometime in the morning. So how about we spend tonight feasting away, in preparation for what¡¯s to come tomorrow?¡± I turned my head reluctantly towards Thacea, as if waiting for her go-ahead. ¡°This is a prudent course of action.¡± Thacea nodded once. ¡°It is important to keep appearances, public social gatherings are but an aspect of this.¡± It was with this majority vote that I reluctantly agreed with a heavy sigh. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll be able to eat anything, but, sure. It¡¯ll get my mind off of things until tomorrow morning I guess.¡±
5 Hours Later Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 2355 Hours. Emma Booker The dinner was just about what I¡¯d expected from Nexus fare: fancy, overplanned, and seemingly endless. When I thought they¡¯d just about ended dinner service, another platter came out as if to taunt me and my inability to consume those tasty morsels. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever spent more than an hour at a dinner before, let alone five. By the end of it, I felt like I¡¯d been put through a gauntlet. Though having five hours of downtime just to talk with both Thacea and Thalmin was honestly kind of nice. It was certainly something I didn¡¯t know I needed, but I was happy enough to have gone along with. Sort of like when your friends invite you to do something you didn¡¯t want, but it ended up being better than you thought. Though I would be lying if I didn¡¯t say I was more than glad to be out of there, as we now turned the corner towards our dorm. Except instead of an empty hallway, I was met with a lone gargoyle, standing patiently in front of the door. My heart suddenly sank right into my gut as I realized what this was all about. ¡°Emma Booker. Professor Mal¡¯tory has approved your request. The Professor sees fit that you meet him immediately. Please, follow me.¡± The gargoyle spoke with a guttural, bassy voice, as if the stones inside its form were vibrating in order to generate that facsimile of a voice. I turned back to face Thacea and Thalmin, who looked on at me with genuine concern. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright.¡± I managed back with a forced smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be back before you know it. Promise you won¡¯t blow anything up while I¡¯m gone alright?¡± I made one last attempt at defusing the tense scene with a small infusion of humor. Thalmin responded with a nervous smile. Thacea took it a step further by gripping my hand tight and maintaining a steady gaze of determination, as both of our eyes locked for what felt like longer than just a few seconds. ¡°Remember what I told you over dinner: calm is the ally of the victor, panic is the flatterer of the defeated.¡± I responded with a small squeeze through my gloved hands feeling the avian¡¯s gaze of determination flowing through me, before carefully untangling my hand from her own. ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°I will count that as a promise, Emma. Know that knights do not break their word.¡± It was with those few parting words that I finally stepped away from the group, trailing behind the gargoyle as my course was now set to see this whole thing through. Chapter 36: Strained Diplomacy I found myself in a part of the castle that just physically could not exist. The EVI, and every sensor it had, was completely at odds with the reality that the gargoyle had led us into. Because despite the countless hours of walking I¡¯d done, and despite the meticulous mapping the EVI had carried out during all those hours, the space we had just stepped into just did not align with the geometries of what should exist in this section of the castle. At least not what standard euclidean geometries would allow. Physics, geometry, and my frazzled EVI aside, the hallways I was being led through were distinctly different from the ones I¡¯d navigated thus far. The marble here was somehow brighter, same with the walls that looked as if they¡¯d been carved out of a single piece of solid rock. The whole place gave me 3D printed, or factory-molded vibes, but without the minor imperfections that would¡¯ve come with it. As we made our way further and further still, stark white was becoming a constant theme, as each successive hall I was led to became increasingly brighter. Shadows began disappearing first, followed by what little textures remained, before leaving only the distinct outlines of the shapes that made up the walls. Eventually, nothing but the rough outlines remained, making me feel like I was walking through an unfinished art piece with just inked linework, or an unprocessed 3D render. It felt like I was in a psychedelic music video at points. Eventually, we made it out of the stark white, and back into something that more resembled the Academy I knew. In fact, it looked a bit older than the castle I had started to get used to. The walls here were a mix of solid obsidian and a patterned marble, the floors were of a certain rock that felt hollow to walk on. More and more, the abstract art of the castle began to shift into sculptures of actual people. The paintings on the wall likewise started coming to life, as many moved about on their own, seemingly oblivious to the world that stood right in front of them. It took a solid thirty minutes of walking, but eventually, we arrived at an absurdly large set of doors, in the middle of a part of a castle that no longer resembled the one I knew. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker, your newrealmer status prompts me to inform you of the Expectant Academic Decorum. You are to use these door knockers to knock on the door three successive times, in intervals of exactly three seconds. Do you understand these terms?¡± The gargoyle finally broke the silence that had only been interrupted during the half an hour walk by the clacking of metal boots on marble and stone floors. His gravely, artificial voice breaking through the unnerving silence that dominated this space. ¡°Affirmative.¡± Was my go-to answer, as I steadied myself in front of those doors, reaching for the two large glowing metal rings on either side of it. ¡°Here goes nothing¡­¡± I mumbled to myself behind my speakers as I went ahead with the motions, generating a gong-like noise that reverberated throughout the halls. Seconds passed. Then an entire minute. Time in this lifeless place just passed slower, especially when you had a constant timer ticking away, reminding you of each and every second that passed. It took a whopping five minutes before the doors finally creaked open, revealing an office that both looked exactly what I expected, yet was as fittingly bizarre as this whole non-euclidean wing of the castle. The furnishings, decor, wallpaper, and color scheme all looked strikingly Victorian. Browns and greens dominated the space, as did reds and blacks, with plush seats and endless bookshelves dotting the massive space. In between those were sculptures and busts of predominantly elves, interrupted occasionally by what looked to be aquatic-like mamallians, and even the odd cat-person here and there. Yet it was the expansiveness of the place that really threw me off, the sheer scale of it, as it was clear that half of this office was built for one very eccentric purpose; a purpose which loomed overhead ominously, unwaveringly, and worst of all¡­ animatedly. Soaring in frozen place above the office with its wings outstretched was a dragon, or more specifically, a dragon that had been looked like it had at one point been alive, but that now currently resembled one of those anatomy diagrams given form. Starting with its tail, flowing into its midsection, before finally ending off at its head which remained untouched and intact with black and blue scales that still pulsated with life. In fact, its entire head was still animated, as its features were locked in a permanent expression of what I could only describe as shock. Its two copper eyes were fixed forward with the determined gaze of a warrior engaged in combat, and only once for what felt like a split second did it actually register my presence. Though this was short lived. I couldn¡¯t tell if this was a twisted war trophy, or whether this was just another one of the self-proclaimed light mage¡¯s projections. Whatever the truth was, I just really hoped it wasn¡¯t alive, and if it was¡­ I hoped it wasn¡¯t in pain. The dragon itself took up the space of a commercial shuttle, which forced me to walk a good seven hundred or so feet before I was even close to making out Mal¡¯tory standing idly by his desk. His back was faced towards me, whilst his front remained transfixed on a view outside the window. A view which seemed to imply that we were still somewhere within one of the upper rungs of the castle¡¯s many towers, as I could just about see the cluster of lights that made up the town which sat at the foot of the lake formed by the waterfall underneath the castle. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Mal¡¯tory spoke with a disinterested tone of voice, yet still managed to emphasize, enunciate, and punctuate each and every syllable in my name with a sardonic beat and rhythm. ¡°Scarcely enough time has elapsed for the ink of your signature to dry, and yet your name finds itself quickly becoming engraved within the tapestry of discourse.¡± The man paused, letting out a barely audible sigh as he maintained his course, refusing to face me eye to eye. ¡°Are we so eager now, to become part of the Academy¡¯s lore? Have we a fire and a passion so strong that we eschew harmony for discord? Is this the norm for what might be expected from Earthrealm? Or is the candidate of Earthrealm so brazen in her personal desires for notoriety that she loses sight of the candidacy she represents?¡± I remained silent, refusing to respond. This seemed to finally prompt the man to shift his course, as he turned around slowly, revealing a crystal ball cradled between both his hands. ¡°Your tongue, Cadet Emma Booker. Shall I remind you that you have one to speak with?¡± The man continued, neither his ash-gray complexion nor his yellow eyes once betraying even a sliver of emotion, despite his choice of words so evidently hinting at his open disdain. ¡°Professor Mal¡¯tory.¡± I parrotted the man¡¯s acknowledgement of my presence, but without any of the disinterested dismissiveness that he himself had used, choosing to go instead with UN bureau-speak; a tone of voice synonymous with the ¡®de-facto¡¯ way most government employees and politicians spoke back home. It was a weird mix that landed somewhere between professional and polite with a dash of civil-service-rep-agent courteousness sprinkled in. ¡°Thank you for granting my request for this meeting. Considering the promptness and the timing, I have to give credit where credit¡¯s due, for giving this issue the attention and urgency it deserves.¡± I finally began, opening up the line of diplomatic dialogue without responding to any of the jabs he¡¯d laid out as bait. ¡°We have a lot to discuss, and not a lot of time to do so.¡± I continued, as I started laying out each and every one of my cards. ¡°I understand there has been a certain level of misunderstanding between both of our parties, and I would like to state for the record that it was not my intent nor my wish to cause any unnecessary trouble. It is my aim tonight to reach a suitable compromise that satisfies both of our parties, and is in the best interests of all other parties inextricably involved.¡± I spoke as plainly but as politely as I could, following the SIOP¡¯s diplomatic dialogue to a T. Polite introduction. Establish realistic aims and goals. Emphasize mutual interests and a desire for cooperative dialogue. Maintain non-confrontational and non-accusatory language. Wait for reciprocation and proceed as appropriate. ¡°And pray tell, what other parties are inextricably involved in our little parley?¡± The man shot back without ever once addressing any of my other talking points; subverting the whole point of a UN-style dialogue. Though part of me was hoping for this outcome, because it allowed me to fast-track this conversation toward a trajectory I wanted it to head to. ¡°The innocent parties that are blissfully unaware of the nature of the danger which lies in wait, Professor.¡± I began slowly, sternly, making sure not to leave any room for misinterpretation. ¡°The parties that may or may not be involved with this whole affair in the first place. The students, staff, faculty, or any would-be bystander whose only crime would be their physical proximity to the crate when the inevitable arrives.¡± I took another breath, making sure the stakes were laid out before I established the threat, making it as clear as could be for the mage. ¡°The inevitable outcome which I have described to the apprentice in length: a destructive force triggered by a mechanism designed explicitly with the intent to destroy. A rapid and uncontrolled release of energy. An explosion, Professor Mal¡¯tory. One that will activate either when a certain amount of time has elapsed, or if enough tampering is detected.¡± ¡°Is that an open threat, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± Mal¡¯tory spoke carefully, slowly, once more choosing to enunciate every word and dragging each syllable out before ending the question off with a weighty click. ¡°It is a statement of fact, Professor Mal¡¯tory.¡± I shot back plainly. ¡°Because the decisions we make here tonight will determine the outcome of the tragedy that will befall tomorrow. I speak in no uncertain terms when I say this, professor: the threat is real, but it is within your control to prevent.¡± ¡°I find your concern over the safety and well being of others to be misguided, Cadet Emma Booker. You speak and act under the guise of a good samaritan. You coat your aims, decorate your demands, and embellish your words to avoid sounding like a savage who believes violence to be the panacea to all ailments. Yet no matter how well you wrap a dagger in parchment and glamor, its shape remains obvious to those willing to pay your argument even a second of thought.¡± The dark elf continued glaring straight into my lenses, not once shifting, not once displaying even a crack in his composure. ¡°You are not the first to offer up violence in negotiations in an attempt to demand results, and you shall most certainly not be the last.¡± I had to take a moment to process all of that, as it felt like I¡¯d just been hit with the full force of not just one, or two, but an entire shuttle¡¯s worth of mental gymnasts headed to the denial and misdirection olympics. ¡°At what point have I demonstrated anything other than a complete adherence to the diplomatic process, Professor? From the onset of this whole situation, to my attempts to resolve it, I have been nothing but patient, nothing but tolerant, and nothing but reasonable.¡± My breath hitched up, as I just about caught myself from letting out a frustrated hiss. All pretenses of maintaining UN bureau-speak were faltering, as it was clear that direction was doing nothing to unstuck the crotchety elf from his high-horse. ¡°The reason why I emphasize the dangers involved is because I cannot stand by idly as a literal ticking time bomb counts down towards a disaster. A disaster which will hurt your people, Professor. And as much as we¡¯ve had our disagreements, as much as we might not see eye to eye, I would rather not see anyone hurt.¡± I laid everything out to bare, as I once more threw the ball to Mal¡¯tory¡¯s court. Or what I was beginning to feel was less of a court and more of a solid brick wall. Yet what I got back in response¡­ wasn¡¯t anything what I expected. ¡°Apprentice Larial was correct in her observations. You do sound strange, Emma Booker.¡± The man spoke suddenly, taking almost by complete surprise. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°Whilst an admittedly small sample size, I¡¯ve now heard you at your best attempts at professionalism, and at your most emphatic of emotional responses. You speak with words that are ours, yet your tongue is marred by the language of another. Your choice of words is that of a seasoned orator, yet the context they convey is akin to that of a common town cryer. I applaud the efforts you have taken to study High Nexian in preparation for your peoples¡¯ candidacy, yet I cannot help but to be offended by the message you force them to convey. It is as if I am being served a dish made from the finest of Nexian ingredients, yet cooked in a manner entirely foreign and unfamiliar. I must wonder, do the concepts of a higher and a lower tongue not exist in your realm? Are you purposefully speaking to me in the context of that lower tongue to which your heritage belongs?¡± ¡°I¡¯m bilingual.¡± I responded a-matter-of-factly. ¡°The language I use most often, English, doesn¡¯t have such a distinction. But the other language I speak, Thai, does. Though I''m not well versed in it.¡± ¡°Ah, multiple local tongues. Tell me, Cadet Emma Booker, considering the varying range of tongues, from which Kingdom within your realm do you hail from? Your strongest? Your wisest? Your most cunning?¡± ¡°I¡¯m here on behalf of the United Nations, not any one state or territory within its jurisdiction, Professor.¡± Mal¡¯tory paused at that, one of his brows raising ever so slightly as he began drumming his fingers against the wooden desk. ¡°A collection of states under a single monarch?¡± His voice perked up with genuine interest. ¡°No. A single, cohesive union, under an elected head of government and an appointed head of state.¡± I clarified without a hint of hesitation. ¡°Elected¡­ As in an electorate of nobles and landowners?¡± Mal¡¯tory shot back questioningly. ¡°No, a constituency consisting of all citizens.¡± I corrected just as quickly. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°A head of state appointed by the Church or Crown?¡± ¡°An appointment made by the Civil Advisory.¡± ¡°Is that an extension of the state religion or an arm of the crown?¡± ¡°It¡¯s an organization made up of leading civil servants and prominent academics.¡± ¡°And your civil servants alongside your scholars are involved in the appointment of a Head of State?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I replied bluntly. ¡°And pray tell who is the monarch in charge of this mad house, hmm? What King or Queen, Emperor or Empress, Lord or Lady, has allowed this¡­ experimental state of affairs to come to pass under their purview?¡± It took a few moments for me to consider the man¡¯s questions, as I cocked my head to the side in confusion. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t follow.¡± ¡°Your elections held by the masses, your appointments conducted by your state¡¯s servants and scholars, pray tell¡­ what Monarch and what Body of Nobility would allow for their powers to be gambled on a whim? To be dictated by the common masses?¡± Those series of questions were enough for me to give me pause, as my understanding of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s worldview suddenly clicked. He was assuming that the elections for the First Speaker, and the appointments for the First Secretary, were pulling from a candidate pool of nobles. ¡°The First Speaker, and the First Secretary respectively, are positions that can be held by anyone, Professor. In fact, there hasn¡¯t been a recorded instance in history where either offices have been filled by a noble. The UN as a nation doesn¡¯t have nobility. Some of our states do, like some of the old states within the European Federation, but even in those instances their roles are entirely ceremonial.¡± It was at that point that something began happening behind the dark elf¡¯s eyes. His haughtier, unbothered look of disinterest that had already evolved into a mild look of curiosity, had now transcended into a face full of shock and disdain. Moreover, the man refused to respond. It was clear that something was going through his head. Something that he didn¡¯t want to say out loud, as he finally gestured for me to take a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk. As soon as I did so, he did the same, his piercing look of shock having since returned to the same forced look of disinterest. Though it was clearer to me now than ever, that this was just a facade. A thick facade, sure, but a facade all the same. ¡°This makes a great deal of sense.¡± The dark elf managed out with just the barest hint of facetiousness. ¡°It is no wonder you keep mentioning your concern for the well being of parties uninvolved with our talk. It is also no wonder you cast such a wide and ambiguous net when entertaining this whole discourse, and why you started this conversation with the mention of compromise despite our discussions clearly being a zero sum game. You owe your eccentricities to the environment fostered by your home realm. For such a maddening state of affairs to function, there can be no decisions made. Only compromises upon compromises, the blind following the blind. The light of enlightenment, smothered by a billion voices.¡± The man paused, taking a moment to let out a sigh as he locked both his hands in front of him. ¡°So then, Cadet Emma Booker. How do you suggest we proceed?¡± He suddenly, and unexpectedly, threw the ball back into my court. ¡°Let us see what a child of a realm of anarchy has to say.¡± My whole body tensed at that, as I went to immediately correct what could easily be a dangerous political precedent to set. ¡°I need to state for the record that my realm is not in a state of anarchy. It never has, and never will be. We¡¯ve fought hard to maintain our democratic traditions and our institutions which protect the rights of all humans: past, present, and future. Generations have sacrificed life and limb to build the future which I now call the present. As a candidate sent by my people, it¡¯s my responsibility to make that very clear, Professor. I would refrain from using precedent-setting words such as anarchy, for my presence here is the result of the collective efforts of an entire government, legitimate and recognized by the entirety of my species. A government of the people, legitimized by the people, for the people.¡± I paused, taking a few minutes to gauge the man¡¯s reactions before moving on. ¡°Now, with that being said, I believe it¡¯s time we address the actual issue at hand. My missing luggage, the crate which I am certain Apprentice Larial has already informed you of.¡± Mal¡¯tory¡¯s expressions shifted somewhat as I attempted to shift the conversation back to the point of this whole encounter. ¡°But this isn¡¯t about the crate, is it, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± I could swear I could hear him grinning despite his facial expressions remaining completely still. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Your claims, your antics, all of it is indicative of a desire to disrupt the status quo for your own aims. This entire situation was in effect precipitated by a choice willingly made by your own people.¡± ¡°You cannot be serious-¡± ¡°Why else would you have violated Stately Decorum by defiling the Minor Shard of Impart?¡± Mal¡¯tory interjected with a coldness dripping in self-assured certainty. I could only let out a single, frustrated, exasperated sigh, as the frustrations at the wishy washy nature of the Nexus¡¯ antics finally came to a head in the form of that one simple question. ¡°You guys said it was a gift!¡± I finally let it out. But that was just the beginning. To say I had words to finally say on behalf of the entirety of the IAS, would¡¯ve been a massive understatement. ¡°Never once has the Nexus informed us of Stately Decorum, Professor. Nor any other decorum for that matter. You¡¯ve never given us a list of your expectations, a cultural exchange package which we could¡¯ve used to help ease diplomatic exchanges, or anything else like that. You didn¡¯t even give us the means by which we ultimately punched a hole through dimensions. You gave us vague instructions, you gave us vague pointers, you gave us nothing but what can¡¯t even be considered crumbs leading to your world. Yet we pulled through. Using every ounce of determination and grit, and every crazy idea thrown to the wall by the most eccentric of scientists, we pulled through. You gave us nothing, and yet I stand here, Professor. If any Decorum was violated in the process then I apologize.¡± I paused, before shifting my gaze despite the man being unable to see it. ¡°But I, and by extension humanity, cannot be held accountable for the violation of rules which we had no context to or knowledge of in the first place.¡± The Professor paused at this for a moment, as if to ponder on my answer, his eyes taking a few moments to consider the orb in front of us; an orb which now looked of absolutely nothing and displayed nothing. ¡°Then consider your candidacy¡¯s first test, an abject failure, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The man spoke with an inkling of haughtiness, wrapped in dismissiveness, still bathed in the same dulcet neutrality he kept up. ¡°What?¡± ¡°The lack of any context as you call it, was intentional. It was a means of gauging an as-of-yet unknown civilization¡¯s true nature. We believe the moment a civilization demonstrates their abilities to breach the void between realms to be a pivotal moment in the development of civilization. It is this moment that His Eternal Majesty deems a civilization to be worthy of acknowledgement, where diplomatic relations may be considered. The Nexus is nothing if not wise, Emma Booker, and we are nothing if not fair in our approach. We gave you these prompts, provided you with these gifts, in order to see how you would react to them. We wanted to see whether or not a reciprocation of decorum was a part of your nature. We wanted to see if you were cultured enough to understand the principles of expectant decorum. We wanted to see if it was in your nature to be civilized, and if your culture held civilized values as self-evident through your actions.¡± The man paused, before manifesting what looked to be the crate, along with its immediate surroundings, within the crystal ball in front of us. ¡°However, you¡¯ve shown us that you are incapable of even doing that.¡± With another wave, the image within the crystal ball disappeared. ¡°In the same way you determine if a newly-sapient beast is capable of empathy by giving them a doll of a crying child to see what they do with it, we gift newrealms with artifacts with the hopes of seeing what these civilizations eventually do with them. Now tell me, Emma Booker. If you saw a newly-sapient beast tearing a doll of a crying child limb from limb, would you see them as anything but failures?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a logical fallacy, Professor.¡± I stated outright. ¡°You can¡¯t start throwing false equivalencies and claim-¡± ¡°I asked you a question, Emma Booker. As your Professor, I demand an answer.¡± The man interrupted me in a rare display of some emotion, even if it was a dose of passion wrapped in dismissiveness. ¡°I refuse to participate in a bad faith discussion.¡± I stated plainly, standing my ground as the glint in the man¡¯s eyes shifted. ¡°Yet another demonstration of Earthrealm¡¯s failure in civil discussion.¡± The man muttered out under his breath. ¡°Allow me to elaborate, Emma Booker.¡± The man attempted to bridge the conversation forward, despite my insistence against it. ¡°These artifacts, these most esteemed of gifts, these instructions¡­ they are all a way of gauging both a civilization¡¯s capabilities as well as their societal development. A great civilization has a balance of both. A good civilization has only the latter. A worthless civilization has neither. Whilst a delinquent civilization, has the former without the latter. For the problem with the development of a civilization¡¯s capabilities without proper societal development, is that you end up with savages with wands.¡± The man paused for emphasis, his eyes landing on my pistol knowingly. ¡°You end up with a civilization that has progressed its capacity to do without its capacity to think. You end up with a civilization in capability alone, with little regard for its actions. Earthrealm, by virtue of recent developments, is quickly falling into this category.¡± Enough was enough. ¡°And where does the Nexus fall into this grand game of categorization?¡± I shot back. ¡°At its zenith, beyond great, good, and most certainly beyond worthless and delinquents. For we have achieved an example all adjacent realms strive towards: utopia.¡± I let that statement hang in the air for a good bit, before finally responding in kind. ¡°Professor, with all due respect, that is the most reductive, arrogant, one-sided, uninformed, prejudiced, ignorant, and downright asinine thing I¡¯ve ever heard.¡± I began, deciding to not hold back on the punches. ¡°You talk of big game, position yourself as the greatest that ever was or will be, but what happens when someone becomes greater?¡± ¡°Emma Booker, you are out of line-¡± ¡°Your system relies on one single conceit: that you maintain overwhelming primacy above all others no matter what. That¡¯s the reason you took my crate.¡± I paused, staring daggers into the man¡¯s eyes. ¡°You¡¯re afraid, Professor Mal¡¯tory. You¡¯re afraid of what could be when evidence shows that there exists a road less taken.¡± ¡°Is this the part where we see the newrealmer claim utopian status?¡± Mal¡¯tory shot back with a dismissive slight. ¡°No. Because we don¡¯t claim to be perfect. We don¡¯t claim to be a utopia. And you will never hear any of our representatives or leaders claim as such, all because of one, very simple reason: we are creatures of progress, and not stagnation. To claim that there is a fixed end to civilization, like some sort of a happily-ever-after in a children¡¯s book, is to invite the demons of stagnation to start gnawing away at a culture until all there is left is complacency; history has proven that nothing good ever comes out of complacency. The only way we¡¯ve achieved what we have, is by dispelling that culture of complacency by recognizing that utopia as an end-goal doesn¡¯t have to exist. Rather, the best state for civilization to be in, is a constant state of self-improvement. That¡¯s what we stand for, and that¡¯s what our civilization is built around.¡± I heard words echoed throughout the room, as Mal¡¯tory¡¯s facade began chipping away bit by bit, before finally¡­ he snapped. In that his neutral look of disinterest contorted into a dismissive frown. ¡°I¡¯ve heard similar words spoken before.¡± He announced, before standing up from his desk and back towards the window. ¡°I know how this ends.¡± I tried standing up, but not before I felt the wood of the chair growing around my limbs. ¡°In time, perhaps not in your lifetime, your people will understand.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 590% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°I¡¯m afraid this will be it, Emma Booker. I will see to it that your luggage situation is tended to. Fear not, for it will no longer be an issue either of us will have to worry about for much longer.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 775% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS It was at that point that I saw the window melting into what I could only describe as a portal, an aperture into another room. The same room that I¡¯d seen the crate sitting in through that crystal ball. ¡°Worry not, the chair will release you in due course. I wish for you to sit and ruminate on your choice of words and actions thus far, Emma Booker.¡± The man turned around one final time, before putting one foot through the portal. ¡­ There comes a point where you¡¯re faced with a decision, a situation where you have neither the time to think or ponder the consequences, but only on whether or not you decide to take the plunge. In that moment, in those scant few seconds, you have a rare chance to see who you really are. Whatever obligations, social or otherwise you might have, are unable to register in the time it takes for you to decide¡­ Do. Or don¡¯t. And it was clear by my gut instinct to move before I could even consider my actions, that I was the type to do. CRACK SNAP I felt those flimsy restraints snapping like the twigs they were, and the chair all but crumbling, as the full force of the suit¡¯s exoskeleton shifting into high gear caused its legs to snap. Whatever the consequences were, whatever happened next, would all result from my decision. I felt myself leaping from that chair, just grazing the back of the dark elf¡¯s cloak, before I fell into absolute nothingness. Chapter 37: Hello Emma, I am Darkness Jumping through a mystery portal without a second¡¯s hesitation, with no idea where it was headed nor any idea how it even worked, was definitely not on the list of things I was expecting to do today when I woke up this morning. However, I wasn¡¯t the type to have second thoughts when I committed to something. Thinking on my feet and improvising things as I went along was just something that I did. In fact it was one of the few positive things I had to say about myself. Though my latest gamble was giving me serious doubts on whether or not I should keep praising that one brain cell responsible for my impulsiveness. [ALERT: GENERALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 2195% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS] Especially when that was the first thing to pop up when I made it past the portal¡¯s threshold. That, and the fact I¡¯d found myself in a place that was anything but my main objective. I wasn¡¯t in the room with the crate with Mal¡¯tory¡¯s throat between my hands. Instead, I found myself falling listlessly inside an abyssal void of darkness with no end in sight. [ALERT: CRITICAL FAILURE DETECTED IN TELEMETRY SYSTEMS. STANDBY, STANDBY.] A void that clearly began taking a toll on my suit and its systems, along with my sanity. ¡­ You know that feeling when you miss a step on a flight of stairs? That feeling where you suddenly feel like the world¡¯s been pulled right out from under you? Where that one misplaced foot causes the mundane rhythm of walking to turn into a sudden and unexpected adrenaline-fueled, stomach-twisting, palpitation-inducing panic? Well, that¡¯s what I felt the moment my foot left solid ground, and I went all in into that portal. [ALERT: MULTIPLE SYSTEM FAILURES DETECTED¡­ THE FOLLOWING PROCESSES CANNOT BE EXECUTED: VISUAL DATA, AUDIO DATA, RADAR DATA, LIDAR DATA¡­] [INITIATING TROUBLESHOOTING RUNTIMES¡­ STANDBY] [REBOOTING 3(s)¡­ 2(s)¡­ 1(s)¡­] [RECALIBRATING 3(s)¡­ 2(s)¡­ 1(s)¡­] [REINITIALIZATION PROCESS FAILED. ATTEMPTING TROUBLESHOOTING RUNTIMES¡­ STANDBY.] Except unlike missing a step on a flight of stairs, where the whole thing lasts about a handful of seconds at most, my experience lasted for minutes. [ALERT: ERRONEOUS SENSOR READINGS; INVALID VALUE.] Entire minutes of constant disorientation and a gut-twisting feeling of constant acceleration, as I fell further and further into an impossibly empty void that even the suit¡¯s sensors found impossible to quantify. There was nothing around me but blackness. It was worse than the vacuum of space, because even then there was some light in the form of stars in the far distance. There was nothing like that here. Not a single twinkle of starlight, not a pinprick of light of any kind that the suit could discern. There was nothing for the suit to pick up, no information for it to relay to me. Except for the constant surges in mana radiation. [ALERT: UNSTABLE SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED: 2593% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS¡­ WARNING: ANOMALY DETECTED¡­ RECALIBRATING¡­ RECALIBRATING¡­ ERROR! DETECTING 29 + 1 DISTINCT TYPES OF MANA-RADIATION.] That was, until I heard something. A constant stream of otherworldly sounds that could only be described as a resonant chime. It came and went with every other second, pulsating in intensity from just a barely audible pin drop to as loud as a half-hearted whisper. It tickled my ears, sending wave after wave of shivers down my spine. Each wave stronger than the next, each whisper relentless in its assault. My whole body began to shudder, as I tried to keep it together, twisting this way and that in the lightless vacuum of the void, before I finally yelled out in frustration. ¡°TURN IT OFF! EVI! SHUT OFF THE EXTERNAL AUDIO SENSORS!¡± ¡°Unable to comply, Cadet Booker. All sensor suites are currently offline.¡± ¡°T-then shut off whatever static you¡¯re playing! Turn all internal speakers off!¡± ¡°Unable to comply, Cadet Booker: All internal speakers are currently inactive and have been inactive for the past 10 Minutes and 47 Seconds up until my response to your present query.¡± My whole world came to a screeching halt at that revelation. My palpitating heart came to a complete stop, just to sink into my gut as my fear and anxieties grew exponentially. If the sensors weren¡¯t even detecting anything. If everything was already offline¡­ then how the heck was I hearing that noise?! I thankfully didn¡¯t have much time to ponder that though, because as quickly as that thought hit me, so too did I finally feel the firm tug of gravity pulling at my form. The world quickly shifted from that void-filled nothingness, and snapped back into reality. With that, came the unfortunate realities of an uncontrolled descent. [ALERT: SENSORS BACK ONLINE.] [ALERT: TELEMETRY RESTORED.] [ALERT: UNCONTROLLED DESCENT DETECTED, 39 FEET ABOVE GROUND-HEIGHT. ACTIVATING EMERGENCY BRACE PROTOCOLS] CRACK I hit something. CRASH And I hit it hard. I felt the tell-tale signs of the suit¡¯s controls being taken away from me for those few decisive seconds. My body became nothing more than a passenger riding in the backseat as autopilot took the wheel, overriding my inputs to ensure that A. I didn¡¯t die and B. I didn¡¯t accidentally break something on my fall. The EVI was right to do this though, as I was literally unable to make out anything on my way down to solid ground. The best I could make out was a blurry mass of green whizzing by me, before it all came to a head in the span of a handful of seconds. THUD That hard landing knocked the wind right out of me, but to its credit, the armor did its best to compensate for the sudden force of impact. A force of impact that would have otherwise resulted in a broken mass of Emma if it wasn¡¯t for it being built to handle this very sort of thing. The suit began running its emergency diagnostics, as I took those tentative few seconds to just lie there for a bit. My eyes continued to be assaulted by a barrage of notifications as system after system reliant on the telemetry readings were quickly restored. Speaking of which¡­ ¡°EVI, quick-status report.¡± I managed out under an exasperated breath just as I felt slack building up all along the suit; the tell-tale signs of control being handed back to me. ¡°Parsing QSR Request, standby¡­¡± The AI spoke calmly, choosing to activate my night-vision sensors on my behalf, clueing me into my surroundings almost immediately. There was nothing in my immediate field of view but trees. ¡°Where the heck are we-¡± ¡°Suit Integrity: Nominal, No Suit Breach Detected. Environmental Control Systems: Nominal. Mechanical Functions: Nominal. Suit Systems: Nominal. No Damage Registered. No Field-Maintenance Required. Continuing QSR Query: Current Location. Current location in relation to the established area of operations is unknown¡­ Conclusion: Current Location Unknown.¡± The AI paused, as I saw the litany of sensor systems from proximity radar through to active lidar being activated in rapid succession in the form of picture-in-picture screens dotting my field of view. ¡°Logging current location as: [Undefined Forest Biome 01]. Unknown distance in relation to established area of operations. Continuing QSR¡­ Scanning for potential environmental threats and active hostiles, standby.¡± I took my time scanning the area around me, not once moving my head as my field of view was artificially enhanced by the picture-in-picture screens. This, along with the FOV enhancer courtesy of the suit¡¯s situational-awareness programs, was designed explicitly to improve the density of visual information being relayed to my eyeballs. I couldn¡¯t see anything so far, but I wasn¡¯t taking any chances as my hand preemptively moved towards my holster. ¡°Alright EVI, after you¡¯re done with the Quick Status Report, I want you to tell me what the hell we just experienced. First, explain to me just how I was able to hear anything through the suit without both external sensors and internal speakers active. And second, just what the heck was up with that 29+1 crap? Was there a bug in the sensor system or something? Or is there something that the lab boys didn¡¯t account for?¡± I managed out under an exasperated breath, before sighing emphatically as I reached one hand to pinch the bridge of my nose, only to have my hand bonk off the glass and composites. ¡°Actually, I change my mind, just put that under secondary priority. Whether it was a sensor error or an actual unknown type of mana, the fact of the matter is I¡¯m still alive to talk about it. Which means that even if it was the latter, the suit was able to deal with it, so it¡¯s not an immediate threat.¡± I began going through the paces of sorting out my current priorities, doing everything I could to not get overwhelmed. The worst thing to do right now would be to panic and to start spamming unnecessary orders to the EVI, which would bog down its internal processes for no real actual benefits in the here-and-now. ¡°Are your current concerns going to kill you?¡± ¡°No, but-¡± ¡°Then they¡¯re not your priority. Prioritize current threats first, everything else can come second. Worrying about your paint job when you¡¯ve lost your brakes going 390 down the interstate doesn¡¯t make much sense now does it?¡± My aunt¡¯s voice rang loudly in my head, her words still ringing true an entire reality away, as I quickly began shifting gears towards more relevant concerns. The tools afforded to the modern military, from the rank and file to the upper brass, was both a boon and a detriment. There was always the tendency to panic-spam unnecessary orders when shit hit the fan, inundating a system that technically could handle it, but would inevitably result in the clogging of the whole logistics of information-dissemination; which was never a good thing in acutely dangerous situations where every second counted. A good soldier and a good commander knew what to order and when to order it. Because despite having all the tools in the world, the one thing you can¡¯t create or conjure up is time. ¡°Okay EVI, once you get those QSR scans done, I want you to deploy the battle-net drones to better get a sense of where we are. As soon as they¡¯re up, I want you to establish FEBNPMS, and put the alert threshold on high sensitivity. The suit¡¯s sensors can only do so much, especially in dense foliage. There¡¯s too many blindspots to count, and I don¡¯t was us getting blindsided before-¡± ¡°PROXIMITY ALERT!¡± I heard the AI blare out with a series of sharp beeps. The alerts preceded the rustling of foliage, only to be followed up by a blood-curdling, chest-pounding ¡°ROOOAAAAAAAARRR!¡± The live feed from my rear helmet-cam was suddenly prioritized on the HUD, highlighting and outlining a figure leaping down from the dense foliage above and rapidly gaining speed; falling towards me with large claws outstretched. It was at that moment that I had a split second to decide how best to proceed, and a split second more to act on that decision. I had to once again let that one brain cell I¡¯d allocated to improvisation shine. My whole body started turning on its own, with the EVI and the suit¡¯s reflex-assist systems making that reaction time almost inhuman. My first instinct was to aim the gun straight between the creature¡¯s eyes, as I felt time slowing down to a complete crawl. [BURST-FIRE MODE SELECTED] Everything was lined up, but at that last second when the adrenaline was at its peak and I finally got a better look at the creature with my own two eyes, I hesitated. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. It didn¡¯t look like an animal from up-close. So I made the call to correct my course. Instead of shooting, I pulled my arm back, and using just about half of the suit¡¯s full strength-assist, I upper-cutted the beast right in the jaw. The first thing I felt was that impact, as the momentum of my punch was slowed down by the target that was the beast¡¯s face. Next, was that feeling of something solid, something hard, giving way as bones shattered, allowing for the force of the impact to resonate through whatever musculoskeletal system the beast possessed. Accompanying this was a loud unforgiving crack, most likely the aforementioned bones cracking and shattering. The whole engagement was over before it could even properly start. Barely a handful of seconds in, and I¡¯d sucker-punched the beast, redirecting its trajectory into the ground in front of me. Any pretenses of fear and terror it might¡¯ve instilled were all but instantly cut short, as the hulking mass of fur and muscle now lay crumpled at my feet. I took a solid second to assess the damage, the adrenaline high still keeping me on my toes, as I began looking over exactly what this thing was. Aside from the mangled face, which I could only take half-credit for, its overall form reminded me of a certain someone that I felt guilty drawing comparisons to. But I had to. To say that it didn¡¯t remind me of a discount-Thalmin would be a bold-faced lie¡­ because it really did strike me as literally just that. A werewolf, although very much not a wolf. I couldn¡¯t really put my finger on it, but it looked like someone had just cycled through the prefix of were, and went full on RNG on the suffix, spinning the wheel of probability, only for it to land squarely between the spaces rather than on any specific category of animal. The werebeast possessed a face only a mother could love, combining features of feline, canine, ursine, and literally every other furred mammal you could think of, just slapped atop of a wolf¡¯s facial features. Its body was much the same, lacking the put-together stature and grace of Thalmin¡¯s bipedal form. The thing looked way more at home on all fours. Despite that, there was something about it that made me think it wasn¡¯t just a beast. Call it a hunch, or maybe my own foolishness, but that¡¯s just what I felt. I still couldn¡¯t deny that it was still a threat however. So I still had to dispatch that threat appropriately. I began palming through a few of my pouches, before settling on a high-tensile cable made up of the same stuff those grappling tethers were made of. It was intended for multipurpose use, mainly for keeping equipment together¡­ but I guess it could be repurposed as a bind. So without much fanfare, I picked the largest, sturdiest looking tree I could find, and began tying it up to it. With that out of the way, I now turned to the EVI, and the drones currently marked as [READY] on my HUD. ¡°Alright, do the thing, EVI. Deploy the drones.¡± A series of sharp buzzing noises soon followed, as three drones were deployed in rapid succession, leaving the confines of my suit¡¯s ¡®backpack¡¯ with a series of dull thumps. Part of me was worried they¡¯d be caught up in the dense foliage of the forest¡¯s canopy, but that concern soon subsided as the battlefield management system booted up. Live readings started trickling in after about a minute of the drone¡¯s departure and rapid ascent. Soon enough, I was treated to a bird¡¯s-eye view of the patch of forest I was currently stuck in. My eyes remained transfixed on both that, and the threat monitoring system that started logging creature after creature that dotted the forest. COUGH! I was pulled out of my hyperfixated state as I heard the tell-tale noises of life emerging from the bruised and battered body of the werebeast. The thing¡¯s face had¡­ actually healed in the ten minutes between that fight and my current info-gathering efforts. It still wasn¡¯t pretty, the bruises were still apparent, but the misshapen jawline and facial structure was distinctly more aligned than when I last left it. Its eyes locked onto me, staring at me with the feral gaze of a wild animal. It tried to let out another loud bellow, but only managed to yield a small bout of pathetic coughs and whimpers. A few seconds passed with it thrashing in its place, before finally, all of its motions abruptly ceased. But with a burst of mana radiation¡­ ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Its eyes began glowing a bright, sickly, fluorescent yellow. ¡°Untie this one. Release this one from its binds.¡± It began without once moving its own lips. It was as if some ethereal force was speaking through it in an airy, otherworldly voice. ¡°I was about to release you from this mortal coil, so you should count yourself lucky, punk.¡± I responded with an annoyed grunt as I tried my best to ignore it and focus on the data being fed to me via the drones. ¡°If you release this one, you will be granted egress from this forest.¡± The disembodied voice spoke calmly. To which I only had silence to respond to it with. ¡°You¡¯re lost, aren¡¯t you? You won¡¯t be able to leave this forest without aid, at least not without your wits or your original form intact.¡± Again, I ignored it, as the drones above me flew higher, collecting more and more readings on the local geography with each passing second. ¡°But it will not be easy. This quest will require many a day, perhaps even weeks of dangerous trekking through these woods, and other connected woods to accomplish. It will take you from lakeside to lakeside, hopping from forest to forest, seeking that which cannot be sought by normal means. This will be a difficult quest, traveler. However, considering you were able to subdue this one, perhaps you will be one of the few chosen by the forest to do our bidding after all. For only when you have accomplished all of these quests, will you be allowed to leave the iron grip of these woods-¡± ¡°Huh.¡± I interrupted the werebeast¡¯s otherworldly voice in the middle of its long tirade, as a map of the local area was finally compiled for me on my HUD. We were smack dab in the middle of the forest I saw earlier from the dining hall¡¯s large windows. In fact, the drones could make out both the Academy and the town from here given the excellent visibility. ¡°Alert. Distance in relation to area of operations established. Current distance from AO: 22.3 Miles.¡± The EVI reported, confirming my suspicions as a path out of the forest was quickly calculated and plotted out. ¡°Alrighty then.¡± I spoke out loud, finally turning to face the werebeast. ¡°I found my own way out soooo¡­ I¡¯m gonna have to skip all that sidequesting if that¡¯s alright with you.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Do not be absurd. No mortal can break free of the confines of this forest without our permission!¡± It exclaimed, the werebeast suddenly snagging violently against the polyalloy binds, which prompted me to sigh as I pointed directly upwards. ¡°You guys have golems and stuff don¡¯t you? Magic too? Surely someone could just¡­ shoot up a magical spy camera or something.¡± I shot back. ¡°The forest¡¯s canopies are protected under a thick layer of magic, no typical artifice can simply pierce the layer of preventative measures that is-¡± ¡°Right. More mana-fueled shenanigans.¡± I interjected with a heavy sigh. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯ve managed to do so pretty easily, so I¡¯ll have to decline the sidequests. I have a bigger quest of my own to deal with.¡± I muttered out under my breath just as another surge of mana radiation hit, prompting me to raise my pistol up again for good measure. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 775% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Turning around, I was faced with¡­ well, a lot which wasn¡¯t there before. Namely: an entire carriage, along with what could only be described as a series of wagons tied behind it. The carriage put me in mind of one of those horse-drawn buggies from the turn of the industrial revolution, but of course in typical Nexian fashion it was decked out in a dazzling display of colors that left my eyes watering and the minimalist in me crying. Unlike a horse-drawn buggy though, this thing actually lacked a horse, what¡¯s more the cab was elongated, almost like someone took one of those buggies and decided to make a stretch-limo out of it. Though the height was probably the most ridiculous aspect of it, as it looked to be a double-decker, complete with windows at both the top and bottom levels. Soon enough I heard a sharp click, as one of the carriage¡¯s doors opened up revealing two figures flanked by guards armed with the same sorts of spears Sorecar had shown me earlier in his workshop. ¡°And what¡¯s all this then?¡± The primary figure, a tall, well-dressed, middle-aged elf spoke in an authoritative voice I¡¯d come to associate with elves at this point. ¡°Erm¡­¡± I turned around, towards the werebeast who seemed to have suddenly lost consciousness the moment that carriage arrived, then towards the elf and what looked to be his aide standing by him. ¡°Would you believe me if I said I¡¯m honestly as confused as you are right now?¡± A small stare off soon commenced before finally, it was broken up by the younger elf standing just behind the man, as she beckoned the taller elf to lean in to her whispers. The man¡¯s eyes grew wide at whatever the smaller elf said, as his attention was soon taken up by the werebeast, before shooting straight back towards me. ¡°Oh heavens, don¡¯t tell me, are you out here on your lonesome with the intent of dispatching these loathsome creatures?¡± He pointed a cane towards the werebeast. ¡°I-¡± ¡°Because in that case, I must apologize for my presumptive hostilities, adventurer!¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not an adventurer.¡± I quickly corrected the man, waving both of my hands in front of me for good measure. ¡°Oh?¡± He spoke, as he began looking me up and down as if to reassert his point. ¡°But you are in a suit of armor, befitting an adventurer of your class. What else would you be if not an adventurer?¡± ¡°I¡­ well¡­¡± I paused, as a part of me wanted to come up with a cover story¡­ but then realized I lacked the cultural, social, and any degree of context needed for it. Heck, I didn¡¯t even know why I would need a cover story for this anyways. ¡°I¡¯m a student of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts.¡± I stated outright. ¡°There was a¡­ mishap with a portal. Long story short I fell into one unintentionally and well, here I am.¡± I shrugged. This seemed to give the elf pause for concern, as he eyed his aide, before turning towards me again¡­ then¡­ he broke out in a wide smile. ¡°Figures.¡± ¡°Excuse me-?¡± ¡°You students always end up in the most bizarre of circumstances. Would you believe I¡¯ve encountered my fair share of you lot out here in this very spot, amongst several others in the forest? It¡¯s usually the same story too. Students fooling about with portal magic, getting themselves caught up in the currents of the transportium, then being spat out unceremoniously at points of high-traffic convergences.¡± I blanked out for a moment there as a lot was being regurgitated at me all at once. ¡°You must be a second year, correct?¡± ¡°First.¡± ¡°Ah, in that case this is all the more understandable. You are quite the daring one I must say, not many first-years have the gall to toy with portals. It is easy for the inexperienced to lose control, to lose focus of your intended destination. In such an eventuality, this places you at the whims of the ebbs and currents of the transportium. This tends to lead to the ejection of oneself at certain hotspot areas without much in the way of input or choice, namely areas of high traffic such as this.¡± I nodded along, as the man continued offering me that warm smile that he hadn¡¯t started out with to begin with. His features had clearly evolved from downright antagonistic, to appreciative, to now warm and accepting at the revelation of my identity and ¡®position¡¯. ¡°Right then! It¡¯s quite late, and we¡¯re likewise going to run late with your courier service if we don¡¯t get a move on. So, Lady-¡± ¡°Emma Booker. Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The man paused, narrowing his eyes somewhat before nodding once more. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker, why don¡¯t I offer you a place on this carriage? It is much faster than going on foot, and our destination should be the same.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to the Academy?¡± ¡°Ah, not quite. We¡¯re headed to the town at the foot of Lake Telliad. From there, we can get a direct line of communication with the Academy so that they may come to reclaim you.¡± I paused, considering my options and the inherent stranger danger that came with getting into a random elf¡¯s brightly decorated carriage. ¡°I should also warn you that Elaseer being a Crownlands-herald town, there exists a blanket no-visitors policy. Should you arrive at the gates, it might take till morning to request an audience with an Academy member to verify your identity. However, I can circumvent that given I am due for an urgent courier mission within Elaseer.¡± The man explained. I looked at the top right hand corner of my HUD, at the timer that continued marching towards the inevitable, and decided to just take the plunge. ¡°Alright.¡± I agreed, before gesturing to the werebeast still bound to the tree. ¡°Erm, what about that guy?¡± ¡°Ah, the beast. I will inform the adventurer¡¯s guild to dispatch with it in the morning. This particular beast is known to us, and has been actively harassing many travelers over the past few months. The adventurer¡¯s guild has found that beast particularly difficult to deal with, so they will be happy to learn of your valiant actions.¡± The man reassured me as I nodded once and quickly entered the carriage alongside his aide. The inside of the carriage was¡­ quite a bit more spacious than the outside. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 870% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS It was again, some mana-fueled shenanigans, however it clearly wasn¡¯t as impressive as the impossible geometries of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office. The carriage was quick to pick up speed, and much to my surprise it raced through the forest at a relatively reasonable pace, as the trees that should have blocked its path instead ended up bending at their bases for the carriage to pass through. ¡°Even the trees bend to the will of the Crown.¡± The elf spoke cryptically, prompting me to ask what he meant by that, but not before a notification came through via the battlenet system stopped that thought right in its tracks. [PRIORITY ALERT! SIGNAL RESTORED WITH CRATE NO. 7. REPEAT! SIGNAL RESTORED WITH CRATE NO.7!] [ERROR! ERROR! CHRONOMETER SYNC FAILURE! ATTEMPTING TO CORRECT FOR TIME AND DATE DISCREPANCY.] [ERROR CORRECTED! TIME AND DATE CORRECTED TO PRESENT TIME. TIME REMAINING UNTIL ACTIVATION OF DSAUP PROTOCOLS: 1 HOUR(S) 02 MINUTES AND 22 SECONDS.] ¡°EVI, what the heck is going on?¡± ¡°Signal has been reestablished with Crate No. 7. Internal chronometer reads as 70 hours 57 minutes and 38 seconds having elapsed since point-of-entry into the Nexus.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not possible. We still had a whole day left when we were talking to Mal¡¯tory, what gives? There has to be an error on the crate¡¯s chronometer-¡± I paused, as another idea hit me¡­ and it hit me hard. ¡°Erm, excuse me, Mr.-¡± ¡°Ah, I am Lord Lartia, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Lord Lartia¡­ I have to ask¡­ the portal, I erm¡­ I could¡¯ve sworn I¡¯d entered it a little bit after midnight. I know this is going to sound insane but is it possible for-¡± ¡°For you to have arrived a small while after you entered?¡± I felt my gut twisting within me. ¡°To answer that question reductively: yes. When you lose control over your ability to dictate your destination, you likewise relinquish your control over the time it takes to reach said destination. Portal travel is near instantaneous, however, it is possible to be lost in the space between spaces. This can cause delays, ranging from anywhere from a few hours, to weeks. Why? Is there an important assignment you must tend to?¡± I stared blankly at the countdown timer, at the signal quickly being triangulated by the drones, and at the place where all of this was set to end¡­ ¡°Yeah¡­ something like that.¡± I spoke with a nervous chuckle, as I continued watching with bated breath as the signal was narrowed down further and further, eventually landing somewhere within the town itself. Chapter 38: A Call to Distant Lands Ten minutes had passed since the start of this journey, and the forest was already starting to thin out into something that more resembled quiet, peaceful, rural farmlands. Although this whole ride was anything but peaceful. My mind had been preoccupied with my unexpected displacement in time, but more concerningly, the impact it had on the whole crate predicament and the timer that ticked closer and closer towards an inevitable oblivion. Though thankfully, I still had options open to me, which meant I could do more than just sit around worrying. I was doing everything I could to make up for lost time, to make sure I would have all the intel necessary to carry out the final leg of this operation the instant I stepped foot into town. My drones were helping me in that venture; all three of them. My eyes were glued to each and every one of their flight-patterns as they zipped across open skies, through a disconcertingly empty airspace. It was wild to see just how empty everything was here. Whereas every square inch of Earth¡¯s airspace across every imaginable altitude was sectioned off into hundreds of thousands of partitions¡­ nothing like that existed here. It was just empty skies, save for the occasional flock of birds or strange magical artifice that whizzed by every minute or so. This made making a mad-dash towards the town relatively simple, as the flight of drones kept at their full speed, destined to triangulate the signal to a precise location and tasked with mapping out the local area as best as they could. This would give me a local map and rudimentary directions when I reached the town, expediting my rush towards wherever the heck the crate currently was. But why¡¯d it have to be in the fucking town of all places? I thought to myself, quietly hoping that it wasn¡¯t in any central or residential location. Because if it did go off¡­ in the middle of night at that¡­ I didn¡¯t even want to imagine the collateral or the fallout that would result from that disaster. I was practically glued to my HUD before a series of successive dings coming from my cabin door completely derailed my train of thought. This was followed abruptly by a soft, skittish voice belonging to that of Lord Lartia¡¯s aide. ¡°Excuse the intrusion, Cadet Emma Booker, but Lord Lartia requests your presence in the main parlor.¡± It still boggled my mind how this whole¡­ traincar was arranged. Because it literally was just that, a train car, complete with individual cabins, and a large parlor where the main entrance was located. I took a moment to compose myself with an inward sigh, before getting up and out of my seat, and towards that folding door. There was nothing else I could do with the drones anyways. They were more or less on their own now, and any attempt at trying to play Reconnaissance Drone Operator would inevitably lead to a worse result than what the smart adaptive systems (SAS) were capable of when left to their own devices. Besides, the battlefield management system would ping me if any urgent orders were needed, and it wasn¡¯t like I needed an excuse to shut myself off from the world to address those issues if it came to it. Opening that folding door, I was met with the sight of the short, hooded elf; who stood about a head shorter than my out of suit height. She looked at me pleasantly enough, not showing any signs of being bothered by the hulking mass of metal nor the two unwavering lenses that stared down at her. ¡°Are the accommodations to your liking, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The young woman spoke in what could only be described as a more genuine version of your typical customer service tone of voice. ¡°Yeah, thank you. I don¡¯t really see the need for it considering this whole ride is supposed to take a half hour, but I appreciate the gesture, and the privacy.¡± I acknowledged with a single nod. ¡°It¡¯s our pleasure, my lady. We pride ourselves in a strict adherence to social decorum. Now, if you¡¯ll follow me.¡± She began ¡®leading the way¡¯ towards the parlor¡­ which was again, excessive and completely unnecessary given it was just 20 feet away from the narrow corridors flanked on both sides by rooms and cabins. Entering the parlor, I still felt the same strange offness I felt the moment I entered the carriage. And it wasn¡¯t the fact that the interior space was giving the EVI another non-euclidean error-ridden panic attack. Nor was it because of the small gaggle of bards in the corner of the traincar-sized space that serenaded us with music befitting a Castles and Wyverns session. It wasn¡¯t even because of the impossible smoothness of the ride that stood in stark contrast to the bumpy ups and downs clearly seen through the windows. It was because- ¡°Ah! Where are my manners! Would you care for some tea, Cadet Emma Booker? Perhaps some twilight tonic? I must apologize for the limited offerings I have on stock. The royal warrant for this venture came as an unexpected and abrupt urgent request; we scarcely had enough time to reorganize our stores for this impromptu journey!¡± It was because everyone, from the aide to the Lord himself, was playing nice. ¡°No, no, I¡¯m fine, thanks. I can¡¯t really drink, let alone eat in this thing, so I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m going to have to pass on all of that, thanks.¡± I managed out as best I could given the weight of the world bearing down on me. ¡°Ah, I see! Apologies if I have transgressed in any way, Cadet Emma Booker! I did not realize you were under a vow of seclusion, or an oath of knightly resolve.¡± ¡°Excuse me, a what-now?¡± ¡°A vow of seclusion or an oath of knightly resolve.¡± He reiterated with a smile. ¡°I assume the reason why you refuse the hostly courtesies of expectant decorum to be due to your commitments to higher values overruling the appropriate responses of a guest.¡± The elf continued before suddenly, and abruptly, shifting his course in the conversation once more. ¡°However if both of my assumptions are incorrect, I must apologize for any infractions incurred to your personal honor, Cadet Emma Booker. It would seem as if my transgressions know no bounds on this fair night! Your culture is completely unknown to me, so I wish to be as accommodating as possible in order to best represent the courtesy of a host. Even if my extension of courtesy is indeed bound to just this small jaunt from the forest to the village, it is still in my honor and within the bounds of expectant decorum to be civil in such exchanges.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± I stuttered out, before halting halfway. Part of me was just too thrown off by the complete tonal whiplash to really continue. Another part of me was just too tired to come up with any witty banter given the newfound pressures of the shortened countdown timer taking up the majority of my headspace. ¡°Have I spoken something to warrant a vow of silence, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The man continued, as I still struggled to find words to appropriately respond with. He was supposed to be a noble¡­ right? ¡°Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The man¡¯s aide interjected, snapping me out of my reverie and back into reality once more. ¡°Oh, erm, sorry. I apologize. It¡¯s just¡­ it¡¯s been quite a long day.¡± ¡°I imagine it must have been, the dispatching of a beast of unknown origin, and one which eludes even the town¡¯s adventurers, must have been quite draining!¡± ¡°Yeah, it was, which reminds me¡­ do you mind if I ask you a few things about it?¡± ¡°Of course! By all means!¡± ¡°Right, well, just before you arrived, the thing was actually talking to me. Though, talking is probably not the best word for this. Its eyes glowed this sort of yellow color, and it sounded like something was speaking through it. I was wondering if you knew what that was all about?¡± ¡°Ah. The forest. I must beg your pardon on behalf of the Nexus, Cadet Emma Booker. It is not often that it chooses to directly interact with an outsider. But when it does, it usually does so through an intermediary. It would seem as if that beast just so happened to be one of its intermediaries.¡± The man explained simply, but also in a manner that made it clear he didn¡¯t want to touch on the topic any further. ¡°But let¡¯s let bygones be bygones, are you sure you are not at all injured by that beast, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Eh, the beast wasn¡¯t really the thing that shook me up. It¡¯s the whole portal situation to be quite honest¡± paused, before snickering. ¡°It¡¯s not everyday I fall headfirst into a portal that spits me out the other side a full day in the future.¡± ¡°Ah, that¡¯s quite understandable Cadet Emma Booker. Once more, I must apologize if my insistence on maintaining polite conversation is at all at odds with your current physical disposition.¡± The man responded with a polite smile, before leaning back into the thick plush seats that reminded me of those overly ornate leather lounge chairs from the Victorian era. ¡°Spatial dislocation and chronological displacement are both elements of the magical arts that can disorient even the most seasoned of apprentices. The fact that you remain so well put together, literally and figuratively, to the point where you managed to dispatch with that beast speaks volumes to the tenacity of your spirit and the constitution of your kind.¡± He continued on, speaking with what I could only describe as a genuine tone of approval and appreciation. ¡°Both are qualities which I can most confidently say are self-evident by the dedication in the craftsmanship of your newrealmer attire.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± I managed out, taking a moment to crane my head around the carriage, just to buy me some time to come up with something to say. ¡°You¡¯re right by the way.¡± I began, causing the elf in front of me to perk a brow up in response. ¡°You could say I¡¯m under something of a vow, to not remove the armor I mean. It¡¯s¡­ a very complicated affair that I can¡¯t get into right now. But suffice it to say, you have my thanks for being understanding about it and for not digging into it further.¡± ¡°Oh but of course! It would be in poor taste for people of our standing to be at each other¡¯s throats instead of extending as much courtesy to one another as possible.¡± The man spoke as if he was referring to some unspoken comradery that existed between us, which just threw me off even further. ¡°Our standing, Lord Lartia?¡± I shot back almost immediately. ¡°Indeed. If you will entertain my presumptuous tenacity, I take it that you are a member of something analogous to what we refer to as the Entrusted Nobility.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not quite sure what that actually implies.¡± A slight pause soon followed, as the man took a moment to look me up and down, his warm eyes complementing his polite complexion. Yet I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of something being off about him. ¡°I¡¯m going to tread into dangerous waters by making this assumption, Emma Booker, but I assume that your experience at the Academy thus far has been¡­ less than stellar?¡± ¡°You could say that there¡¯s a certain level of inconsistency in how certain individuals interpret their noble decorum around me, yes.¡± I replied diplomatically. ¡°Hmm. Typical.¡± The man responded in an uncharacteristically snappy tone of voice. Something I hadn¡¯t at all expected given his verboseness so far. ¡°This is very much typical, to no fault of your own, of course.¡± He took a moment to reach for a piping hot liquid held up by a precarious looking glass stem, taking a slow calculating sip, before continuing. ¡°You must forgive the rest of these¡­ otherrealmer scum, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The intensity in his voice hitched up without warning, the tonal whiplash he was giving off was honestly reaching peak levels. ¡°They merely mime and mimic what they see, and boast and bluster beyond their capacity. They resent those not of landed standing, such as you or I, Cadet Emma Booker. Which is why your presence here, if my presumptions are correct, is utterly fascinating. For you see it is quite unusual for an adjacent realm, and a newrealm at that, to send over a candidate not of some landed status. The fact your realm sent you of all people speaks volumes to the type of civilization we might expect from you, candidate.¡± The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. A small silence interrupted his speech, as he took that time to take yet another sip from that glass, as if he was expecting a response to validate his claims. I took a few moments to fully consider everything he was saying so far, a lot of it which had serious repercussions on the political landscape of the Nexus. The existence of more than one type of noble, and what seemed to be clearly defined sociocultural lines between said types of nobles, was huge in and of itself. But it was the terminology being used that really pointed at what these differences could be, and what the guy could be assuming about me. Landed versus Entrusted. I looked around me, at the interior of the carriage, at the man¡¯s aide, even at the gaggle of bards in the far corner of the room¡­ before it hit me. ¡°You said you were under a royal warrant.¡± I spoke out loud. ¡°Correct, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°And that you¡¯re heading to the town because of a courier mission.¡± ¡°Correct, again.¡± The elf spoke affirmatively, nodding with a warm smile. ¡°I¡¯m going to assume that your definition of Entrusted Nobility, has something to do with members of the nobility, whose noble status aren¡¯t bound to land like the Landed Nobility, but are instead bound to some Royal commission or an appointed role, status, or something like that?¡± This caused the elf to perk a brow up in excitement. ¡°Close enough, Cadet Emma Booker. The Entrusted Nobility are those of noble birth whose families have no claim to lands significant enough to constitute the establishment of landed holdings such as Duchies, Kingdoms, and so on and so forth. Instead, our titles are granted to us by our Entrusted holdings, holdings which range from anything from manufactoriums, through to unique family-held services.¡± This added a layer of complexity to the Nexus that I didn¡¯t need right now, but that I knew the EVI was hurriedly storing away for our intelligence reports. That still doesn¡¯t address the elephant in the room though¡­ ¡°And you¡¯re under the assumption that I hold that equivalent title back home?¡± ¡°Well yes.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°It is obvious is it not?¡± The man shot back with a hint of incredulity, coupled with a slight chuckle. It was only when I refused to elaborate further that he finally gave me a solid, reasonable answer. ¡°It is everything about you, Cadet Emma Booker, starting from your armor.¡± He raised both hands in front of me, gesturing to every possible angle of my armor. ¡°No commoner would be able to afford such fineries, and no landed noble would be caught dead wearing it lest it is a punishment enforced upon them. Secondly, it is the manner by which you carry yourself, more specifically your title. No commoner would dare use titles preceding their name in interactions with a high-born, and no landed noble would be caught using merited titles, let alone in a first interaction. Thirdly, is your propensity to put merit first. You did not boast, nor did you point to the dispatched beast as a justification of your character. You merely let such things speak for themselves. Finally, and perhaps most telling of all, is your oath of knightly resolve. Such acts of humility are impossible to find within the ranks of the landed nobility, but are gestures of great fortitude befitting of the Entrusted Nobility.¡± The man ended off his whole tirade with an overly confident grin on his face. ¡°So tell me, how accurate were my assertions, Lady Emma Booker?¡± I felt as if my very soul had been grappled and ripped from my core as the elf chose to attach that honorific to my name. It just felt wrong on so, so many levels. Especially with the baggage that title carried here in the Nexus. I had to take a moment to steady myself before responding. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ actually not a noble, Lord Lartia.¡± I responded plainly, but as politely as I could. To say that his facial features completely changed the moment those words left my mouth would¡¯ve been an understatement, as that formerly chipper and polite demeanor was completely thrown out. There was still politeness there, sure, but the genuine kindness that had colored his light brown cheeks had departed so quickly that he looked as if he¡¯d become a completely different person altogether. ¡°Ah.¡± Was his first response, and even with just that, I could tell the man¡¯s mood had completely changed. ¡°Well, my apologies then, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± He started correcting his course, even taking the time to clear his throat as the tint of kindness in his eyes started following the same trend as the rest of his face. A guard quickly approached from behind him, coming out from one of the many doors recessed into the walls, on a direct trajectory towards me. Before he could do anything though, Lartia raised a single hand, lazily, and without much effort. The life seemingly gone from even his physical gestures. ¡°No, that won¡¯t be necessary.¡± He spoke with a tired sigh. ¡°But my lord, the commoner is sitting on upholstery intended for highborns-¡± ¡°I said, that won¡¯t be necessary, Fabian.¡± Lartia reiterated now with a soft hiss. ¡°Yes my lord.¡± The guard quickly left without a fuss, leaving just me and the elf alone yet again. ¡°It is no fault of your own that you sit there, in a space designated for highborns, Cadet Emma Booker. It is also of no fault of your own that you have been given highborn accommodations. It would be unbecoming of me to punish you for my own lack of foresight, and my own foolishness. I should¡¯ve inquired first with regards to your heritage. However, considering you are a student of the Transgracian Academy, I nominally assumed you were of some noble heritage.¡± The man shrugged, speaking to me in what could only be described as a dismissive, almost disappointed tone of voice. ¡°With that being said, I believe it is best that we cut our conversation short. I have nothing further to discuss with you, and I permit you to retire to the quarters set aside for you. You will not be relegated to the commoner¡¯s section, do not worry. I am a man of my word, and a man standing steadfast by my decisions, even if this particular decision has led me to a horrible social faux pas. I apologize if I treated you as an equal, Cadet Emma Booker. I did not wish to infer such violations of Noble Decorum.¡± He began pinching the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to openly sigh, before turning towards me once more. ¡°Do you have something else to discuss, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°¡­no, I think we¡¯re done here.¡± Was all I said as I got up and left for my cabin. I knew there was something to the whole act, and my gut finally got something right this time around. There was just under ten minutes left before we arrived, and I figured now was as good a time as any to check up on the drones. Just before I could settle back into my cabin however, I was once again interrupted by a series of soft taps on the door. Not the same dings as before, but quiet, almost imperceptible taps. I stared at the door, my eyes narrowing as I saw the lock unlatching, before I saw the shy, nervous eyes of the aide staring up at me. I sighed outwardly, and loudly, making an effort to actually emote through the layers of composites and nanoweave. ¡°What is it now? Has my great host decided to change his mind on that offer? Does he want me to walk the rest of the way to town, or-¡± ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m actually here against the Lord¡¯s wishes, my lady.¡± The elf interjected meekly. ¡°You don¡¯t have to call me that you know.¡± I quickly corrected the aide. ¡°It¡¯s not like there¡¯s any need any more now that the cat¡¯s out of the bag.¡± This seemed to prompt the elf to begin bowing in apologetics, her eyes quickly averting from my two lenses as she did so. ¡°If it pleases my lady for me to stop, then it shall be done. Is there a title you would have me use in its place?¡± ¡°Forget titles, I don¡¯t even know your name.¡± I responded, cocking my head to the side. ¡°Maybe we should start with that?¡± I tried tempering my voice down somewhat, giving the young elf a chance, even if her boss had more or less thrown polite dialogue out the window just a few moments ago. ¡°My name?¡± The elf parotted back with a twinge of disbelief. ¡°Of course. I am Trade-Apprentice Lartia-siv, serving under the masterful tutelage of my Lord Lartia.¡± ¡°You¡¯re Lord Lartia¡¯s daughter?¡± I responded with yet another head cock. ¡°Ah, sorry! I had assumed you knew of our customs, but I had forgotten that you are a newrealmer. My humblest of apologies.¡± The elf once more bowed apologetically. ¡°I am not Lord Lartia¡¯s daughter, Cadet Emma Booker. I am but a common apprentice. I understand my name might cause some confusion, but it is expected practice for Trade-Apprentices to relinquish their own name for the duration of their apprenticeship, instead taking on the name of our masters, and adding a suffix to denote our rank within the apprenticeship.¡± The young elf explained succinctly. However, despite speaking with a clear tone of certainty, I could still hear some reluctance and disdain in her voice. As if she had something else to say, but just didn¡¯t want to say it. ¡°So, what about your name before all of this?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°Your name, prior to this whole apprenticeship thing. What did you call yourself then?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think the master would approve of-¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care what he would approve or disapprove of. Your name is your own, now it¡¯s your choice if you want to reveal it to me or not. I¡¯m just asking after all.¡± ¡°Erm¡­ my name was Rila.¡± ¡°Okay, so, what would you rather me call you then?¡± The elf took the time to actually pause and think about this, her eyes showing signs of internal turmoil, as seconds, then an entire minute passed before she responded with a quiet whisper. ¡°Rila. I¡­ I want you to call me Rila, if that¡¯s alright with you, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± I took a deep breath and nodded. ¡°Rila it is then. So, Rila, what did you want to talk to me about?¡± That question seemed to send the elf into a bit of a nervous frenzy, as she looked all around her before entering the small cabin, and closing the door shut behind her. ¡°I¡­ I just wanted to ask, as a commoner¡­ from one commoner to another¡­ how¡­ how are you able to be so confident in the presence of a noble? I¡­ I understand that you may be in some manner of armed force, given your rank and your armor, but even the most seasoned of warriors buckle under the pressure of a one on one audience with a noble. I cannot for the life of me comprehend just how you were able to hold your own without once relinquishing a single inch of your own pride and honor. I have been in Lord Lartia¡¯s service for just under 15 years now, and even after nearly two decades, I still find it difficult to maintain eye contact with a highborn for longer than I am permitted to. How do you do it, Cadet Emma Booker? How do you act as if you are equals? How-¡± ¡°Simple. It¡¯s because we are equals, Rila.¡± I stopped the elf before she could even continue, as I spoke without a hint of hesitation, as if it was something that needed to be said before anything else. ¡°Everything else just stems from that.¡± ¡°But¡­ you¡¯re not equals. You¡¯re a commoner, like me-¡± ¡°Where I come from, the distinctions you get are all earned. If you¡¯re military? That¡¯s rank. If you¡¯re an academic? That¡¯s also rank. If you¡¯re a civil servant? Rank again. And all ranks are earned. Even then, outside of your profession and or command structure, everyone¡¯s equal. Respect between people is something that¡¯s earned, it¡¯s not something you¡¯re born with. That¡¯s just how I was raised, and those are the values I hold.¡± The hooded elf remained standing in place for a few solid seconds after that, her eyes shifting from disbelief, then as she listened on, mellowing out into a curious intrigue, before she finally landed on a look I wasn¡¯t expecting. A look of pining for something better than the world she knew. ¡°That¡­ sounds like an impossible place.¡± She admitted. ¡°But it sounds like a really nice place as well.¡± I could sense that the elf was still skeptical, not fully grasping the nature of my world as truth like just about every other inhabitant of the Nexus. But unlike my other encounters, something was different about this one, as her gaze seemed to drift into a daydreaming state of reverie; letting out a longing sigh that ended with a soft laugh. ¡°I would like to visit such a world some day.¡± She spoke with gratitude in her voice as she held up the sides of her hood, draping it over her face a moment after. ¡°Thank you, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Rila spoke confidently, following it up with a respectful bow. ¡°Thank you for letting me know the existence of such a fantastical place.¡± It was at that point that I knew I had to do something, and so with a few minutes left on the clock before we reached the town, I got up from my seat to place both of my hands on her shoulders. ¡°It¡¯s only fantastical because this place makes it seem that way.¡± I managed out with a smile. ¡°And hey, who knows, maybe one day right? We¡¯ll see how things go.¡± The elf looked up at me with an expectant gaze, before suddenly, the cart came to a halt, as the both of us looked out the cabin window to see the town¡¯s guard houses looming over us. ¡°I guess this is my stop. But, hey, this doesn¡¯t mean this is our last talk, right?¡± The elf looked up quizzically, before nodding with enthusiasm. ¡°The master comes through the town at least once a month. So perhaps this can be the first of many conversations. I would love to hear more of this world of yours Cadet Emma Booker, even if it is more of a fantastical tale than an actual place. I am eager to mayhaps learn the ways of your resolve through these parables.¡± The elf managed out, still flip flopping from belief to disbelief. She¡¯d need more time to process this, and time was something I was quickly running out of. ¡°I¡¯ll be looking forward to it.¡± I spoke, but before I was able to leave the cabin, I felt the elf grabbing my hand tightly. ¡°Wait, before you go, take this.¡± She reached to grab what looked to be a small pearl affixed to a leather bracelet, before placing it in my hands. ¡°It¡¯ll let you know when I¡¯m in town, or in close proximity.¡± ¡°Are you sure you want to give me something like this? This looks expensive and I wouldn''t want to-¡± ¡°I have plenty to spare. It¡¯s relatively inexpensive, all things considered. I mean, not really, but it¡¯s something that I¡¯m willing to part with for another sure-fire chance of meeting you, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± With one final exchange of smiles, my own hidden beneath a thick layer of metal, I promptly left the cabin. Walking through the now-empty parlor, Lord Lartia nowhere in sight, I landed with no fanfare on the streets of the town. ¡°EVI, time?¡± ¡°25 Minutes and 47 Seconds remaining, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Alright then.¡± I spoke with a fiery determination, quickly pocketing the leather bracelet into one of my pouches. ¡°Let¡¯s finish this.¡± Chapter 39: The Final Countdown Main Gate. Crownlands Herald-Town of Elaseer, Transgracia. 25 Minutes and 47 Seconds remaining Emma Booker I knew that things would pick up in intensity the moment I entered the town. I understood that there was no time for caution, and no opportunity for pause. I even had the EVI running at full blast, directing the three drones above the town to make sure I had as much situational awareness as possible as I exited the microcosm of gentrification that was the carriage, and stepped into the real world for the very first time. Yet no amount of preparation or focus was enough to prepare me for what I was immediately thrust into. Because everything assaulted me all at once. From the brilliant display of lights that gave the main street this almost picturesque look befitting of a fantasy-themed hallmark card, to the hundreds upon hundreds of conversations happening all at once across the entire breadth of the street, through to the gates, and all the way down each and every sidestreet and alleyway¡­ this place both looked and felt alive. I felt a brief pang of homesickness even, as part of me felt almost at home with the crowds going every which way. Each person living their own lives, going about their own days, each with their own story to tell. Yet that sense of familiarity was tempered by the obviously fantastical elements of the place. From the constant and distinct clanging of metal on metal from what I assumed was the blacksmiths that dotted the street, to the faces of each and every passerby that was most certainly not human, there was no doubt about where I was. It was at that point that it finally hit me, a realization that had been left hanging in the midst of the overstimulation of both sights and sounds from the town, and the assault of battlenet notifications from the EVI. I was actually outside for the very first time. This was the first time I was actually seeing the Nexus for what it actually was, beyond the political machinations of the elite, beyond the busy bodying of the ruling powers¡­ This was what life was actually like. This was the true face of the Nexus. And this was what was actually at stake. We were no longer talking about the destruction of some cushy office somewhere within the maze that was the castle, or some souped up lab with priceless artifacts belonging to the Crown or the nobility, but a place where honest to god regular people spent their day to day. People who were completely oblivious and removed from whatever their so-called ¡®betters¡¯ were doing up behind the Academy¡¯s walls, hundreds of feet above their heads. This only served to fuel my determination It only added another layer of gut-churning anxiety to beat the clock before it was too late. [Alert: Target location confirmed. Alert: Local area map scanned and digitized to 72.92% completion, suitable for navigation. Alert: Fastest route to target location plotted¡­] [Alert: Begin nav-assisted pathfinding Y/N?] ¡°Yes, and try to make sure we use less congested routes, because we¡¯re going to be using exoskel-speed-assist.¡± ¡°Affirmative Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s fucking go.¡±
¡°Can I talk to you about something else, Auntie Ran?¡± ¡°If this is another question about that Medal of Sol game they based loosely around my exploits, then I promise you I¡¯ll be tripling the number of chilies in tonight¡¯s curry-¡± ¡°No, no. I mean, kinda? There¡¯s a level in the Jovian campaign that I¡¯ve been really struggling with. It¡¯s the part where instead of just jumping, shooting, and grappling-¡± I remember my aunt visibly shuddering at any mention of that word. ¡°-you¡¯re instead actually tasked with doing other stuff, like uhh reactor defusal while also shooting enemies at the same time still. There was a timer for this map, and that¡¯s what I felt was really unfair cuz the timer doesn¡¯t change even if you switch difficulties. It just changes the number of enemies, and it¡¯s just really hard. I was wondering if that was actually what it was like and if you think that it was like, accurate and stuff?¡± It was rare for me to see my aunt actually pausing anything she was doing. When she was committed to a job, she was impossible to stop, even if it meant leaving the door unanswered for entire minutes, or the phone ringing for hours on end. I remembered that this was one of the only moments she took the time to actually stop cooking, to put both the wok and the spatula down, even if it was only for a few short minutes to carefully consider my question. She didn¡¯t even outright dismiss it or call it out for what it was: a dumb question by what was at the time, a dumb kid. Which I remember made me extremely anxious, and that much more surprised and taken aback when she finally did respond with something completely unexpected. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s accurate. Because if there¡¯s one thing you can take from that map, Emma, it¡¯s that while you could argue real life does have an easy, medium, and hard mode, that there¡¯s one thing that¡¯s the same across every mode¡­ and that¡¯s time. You can¡¯t control time, and no matter who you are or where you are, whether you¡¯re the First Commander, or a freshly minted ensign, you can¡¯t stop time. You can only do your best to make sure you finish whatever that needs to be done within whatever time limit¡¯s been imposed on you. Do you understand me, Emma?¡± It was in those rare few moments that I both understood, but didn¡¯t at the same time. I thought I knew what she meant, but it was one of those lessons that only became more and more relevant with age and experience. ¡°Yes Auntie Ran, I understand.¡± It was definitely more relevant now, than ever before. ¡°Oh, and Emma?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Did they just have you shooting bad guys and defusing the reactor in that level?¡± ¡°Yeah, and solving minigame puzzles, why?¡± ¡°There was no escort mission? No evacuating civvies? No crisis management or collateral mitigation?¡± ¡°No?¡± ¡°Heh. So much for their commitment to realism, because that¡¯s half of the real life campaign thrown right out the window. Because in real life, you¡¯re not just sitting there worried about you and your friends getting blown up¡­ it¡¯s everyone else as well you have to be worried about. And it¡¯s them that you have to protect, that¡¯s the whole point of the job after all. Think about that for a bit before you sign up. Oh, and pass me the chilies. Gotta get back to cooking, else the food burns.¡± ¡°You mean the chili-jam?¡± ¡°Where the hell did you get that? Get that out of my face before you disgrace this whole family with that nonsense.¡±
Warehouse District (?). Crownlands Herald-Town of Elaseer, Transgracia. 10 Minutes and 47 Seconds remaining Emma Booker My aunt¡¯s words couldn¡¯t have held more weight if she¡¯d tried, because here even an entire reality away, they still rang clear and true. FWOOOOOM! ¡°Watch it!¡± ¡°Fish still fresh! Come and- WOAH!¡± ¡°EEK! My dress!¡± ¡°HEY! This district prohibits speed enhancements!¡± ¡°My cabbages!¡± My seemingly endless sprint across the entire length of the town, coming at the cost of several speed-code violations and a cabbage peddler''s cart, had finally brought me to the source of the signal. Which, thankfully, wasn¡¯t anywhere near the rows upon rows of tightly packed houses or lively streets and alleyways that I¡¯d encountered on my way here. In fact, this entire part of town seemed to be a bit disconnected from the rest, separated by one of the many streams that flowed from the massive lake, criss-crossing and cutting through the town, creating little neighborhoods, districts, and boroughs. This specific ¡®district¡¯ gave me warehouse district vibes, because that seems to be exactly what it was. An entire section of town with rows upon rows of almost identical warehouses. To be honest, it didn¡¯t quite fit the ye olde time aesthetic I¡¯d envisioned from the rest of town. In fact, it gave me a bit of a Victorian chic industrial vibe, what with the bare metal frames and thick layered bricks that made up its walls. There was little, if any architectural flare here, only what seemed to be a series of artificed devices that adorned key points like the doors, windows, and what looked like ventilation ducts that ducked and weaved across the whole roof. Aesthetics aside, the drones above quickly narrowed down the particular warehouse in question, which led me across several smaller canals until I was met with one of the few warehouses with any signs of life within it. It was the only one in a one block radius with the lights on, after all. This theory was proven as the battlenet systems quickly compiled a veritable list of unknown contacts all across the perimeter of the warehouse. My first thought was armed guards, perhaps even more of the Academy¡¯s gargoyles or something. I couldn''t be further from the truth however as instead of a laundry list of combatants, I was met with snapshot after snapshot of what looked to be unarmed civilians. Many were dressed in overalls, whilst many more wore a simple tunic and what seemed to pass as pants around here. There were civilians in the AO. This complicated matters even further. ¡°EVI, I want a total headcount of everyone within and around the warehouse. I want infil-bots in the warehouse stat. Give me a live-feed of everything inside of that warehouse. Get everything inside and out active-monitor¡¯d asap. Full throttle, use everything we have.¡± ¡°Acknowledged Cadet Booker, deploying all available primary surveillance units.¡± [INFIL-DRONE01¡­ DEPLOYED] [INFIL-DRONE02¡­ DEPLOYED] [INFIL-DRONE03¡­ DEPLOYED] [INFIL-DRONE04¡­ DEPLOYED] [INFIL-DRONE05¡­ UNABLE TO DEPLOY. CAUSE: ASSET SAFEGUARD MEASURES. QUERY: OPERATOR EMERGENCY OVERRIDE Y/N?] ¡°No.¡± I responded quickly. ¡°Brass is right, deploying everything all at once is a hasty move. We need to keep some in reserve just in case. Just work with what we have.¡± ¡°Acknowledged Cadet Booker.¡± I could practically feel the fatigue oozing from the EVI¡¯s tone of voice, or at least, that¡¯s what I would¡¯ve expected if the EVI was a full-on AI. Because right now, I was pushing it to its absolute limits. With Battlenet running at full throttle, and each of the drones tasked with wildly different operations, I was giving the EVI¡¯s limited hardware the stress test of its life. Data had begun piling onto the HUD just seconds after I¡¯d given my order. Civvie after civvie contact was assigned an alphanumeric tag, an active blip on the mini-map, and lastly¡­ a face. That last part felt like a gut punch as I saw snapshot after unflattering snapshot of elves, cat people, bear people, and every other imaginable race possible all cataloged and documented. Each of them were going about their own lives, lives which could be cut short at a moment¡¯s notice. Seconds later, a live feed of the warehouse was soon relayed to me. Given my close proximity, the infil-drones were more than capable of broadcasting the signal without any issue. It was here that I had front row seats to a narrowing down of the crate¡¯s precise location, and the individuals present immediately around it. And out of the three people I saw, only one gave me a genuine pause for concern as my whole body clenched up in a fit of pure and unadulterated tension. Rila. Shock and panic soon gave way to a more focused frame of mind as I began pouring over the live footage. Given everything was running by-the-second, each play-by-play not being at all filtered by the EVI, it took a while before everything was in frame, and the other players around the crate became increasingly more visible. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Zooming out, Mal¡¯tory was quickly identified. The IFF logging him as ¡®friendly¡¯ again, which I immediately overrid to ¡®hostile¡¯ without a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°And keep it that way.¡± I hissed back to the EVI as the camera continued to pan around the room. The black-robed professor was standing idly by the crate, which looked visibly dented and blackened, with Rila standing between him and what was clearly the crownlands-hired Lartia. His little magical carriage soon entered the frame too, as did one of the carts it was pulling. The back of the cart opened to reveal an impossibly large storage unit several orders of magnitude larger than the space it was in. It all became clear to me now, what all of this was about. What Mal¡¯tory¡¯s aims were, and why Lartia was even here in the first place. Audio data filtering through, quickly confirmed my suspicions. Lartia¡¯s voice came through first, as boisterous and stuck-up as I¡¯d remembered it a half hour ago. ¡°It behooves the black-robed of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts to understand that such a request must be reciprocated in a manner that best reflects the inconvenience this causes the Lartia House.¡± The man began, speaking in this weird, almost third person sort of speech that just flat-out irritated me. ¡°Yes, yes. Monetary compensation has already been discussed and approved via the Academy¡¯s Repositories through the Crownlands Accounts, into your Royal Warrant, Lord Lartia.¡± Mal¡¯tory spoke in the same neutral, bored monotone he continually carried himself with. ¡°Oh, but of course Professor Mal¡¯tory. That is to be expected. However, given the speed and urgency by which the Lartia house has responded to your requests¡­¡± The man began trailing off, his hand gliding playfully over the battered and dented crate, blackened soot from the crate¡¯s exterior discoloring the pure white of his gloves. ¡°... there is a certain inconvenience that has been incurred that cannot be understated. An inconvenience that should be corrected, lest the black-robed office now deem the resolution of inconveniences to a fellow member of peerage to be a matter beneath them?¡± ¡°It would behoove the holder of the Royal Warrant to understand that any words spoken with the intent of undermining the black-robed office to be a direct insult to the legacy of this royal office, and by extension, His Eternal Majesty himself.¡± Mal¡¯tory spoke clearly, sternly even. ¡°This inconvenience I have incurred will be corrected, Lord Lartia.¡± The man took a moment to grab something from his cloak, what looked to be an ornate case, that the man opened to reveal a glowing crystal. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS One that sparked a mana-radiation warning all the way from where I was standing. ¡°You have my word.¡± ¡°Hmm, yes, an Academy gift. This is a start.¡± Lartia spoke in an uncharacteristically succinct manner, grabbing the ornate case, before handing it off to Rila who promptly walked off with it into one of the wagons. ¡°With that being said-¡± ¡°Lord Lartia, as much as I would wish to entertain further discussion, I am afraid the matter of this urgent request must take precedence over polite conversation. As the issuer of your Royal Warrant, I must urge you to complete your task, post-haste.¡± A soft pause soon followed, as Lartia¡¯s expressions shifted from that facade of politeness to one that was strikingly more predatorial. His ¡®soft¡¯ eyes sharpened, as did his features that shifted from a haughtier, polite noble, to something that more resembled a shrewd businessman. ¡°Is this your official order, Professor Mal¡¯tory?¡± ¡°It is, Lord Lartia.¡± With a second of tense silence, the man simply shrugged. ¡°I do not understand what can be so urgent about this entire affair.¡± Lartia spoke dismissively, before patting down the crate with his gloved hand, sending a small puff of soot into the air. ¡°What can be so urgent about the contents of this box, Professor Mal¡¯tory?¡± He continued, in a tone that felt more genuine than the over-the-top exchange just a few moments ago. ¡°This is an internal matter, Lord Lartia.¡± Mal¡¯tory replied without a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°Suffice it to say I need you to make haste with this. The contents within are none of your concern.¡± ¡°Yet they are still yours.¡± The man narrowed his eyes at Mal¡¯tory. ¡°For now.¡± The man quickly grabbed what seemed to be a large piece of parchment, handing it to Lartia. ¡°I have informed the town guard to allow you passage through the emergency channels, this should lead you to the South Gate, where a lesser known warrant-exclusive transportium is located. Permission has already been granted to allow the holder of the warrant to cross through this portal. This should hasten your travel time immensely. The transportium route should see you arriving at the courtyard of the Royal Academy for the Magical Arts. There, you must hand the Acting Proctor this letter.¡± ¡°At which point the contents of this box shall no longer be of your concern.¡± Lartia¡¯s eyes narrowed even further. ¡°Just as the contents are not of your concern, Lord Lartia.¡± Mal¡¯tory paused, pointing at a particular part of the oversized parchment. ¡°You have my word that all the Expectant Courtesies of a Royal Courier will be extended. There shall be nothing to lose but all to gain from this warrant, Lord Lartia.¡± So that¡¯s his fucking game. ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough. EVI, any other contacts inside of the warehouse?¡± ¡°Negative Cadet Booker, sensors only register three contacts, confirmed by visual readings.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± I took a deep breath, my eyes darting back and forth on all of the data being actively relayed to the HUD. My focus kept shifting between the bird¡¯s eye view of the entire warehouse, with 32 blips accounting for all of the civvies scattered around, and the continually developing situation within its brick and mortar confines. ¡°I have a plan.¡± ¡°EVI, how thick are those warehouse walls?¡± ¡°Approximately 7.23 inches, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Acoustic properties? Do you think a good 70 to 90 decibels can penetrate it?¡± ¡°Unlikely, Cadet Booker. Unknown acoustic dampening properties detected within the walls, in addition to the physical thickness, will be more than likely to prevent sounds of that range from being audible within.¡± ¡°Good. Now, EVI, how good were the audio recordings of our encounter with that beast?¡± ¡°Within acceptable high-fidelity limits, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°And how quickly can you isolate its roars to broadcast via speakers using the drones?¡± ¡°Audio isolation has already been completed, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Alright. Remind me to thank Lartia for his sweet intel on the town¡¯s awareness of that werebeast. Let¡¯s perform some collateral mitigation.¡±
Warehouse District (?). Crownlands Herald-Town of Elaseer, Transgracia. 5 Minutes and 47 Seconds remaining Emma Booker Several things began happening at once. ¡°ROAAAR! ROAAAAARRRRRR!!¡± Starting with a loud, heart-stopping beastly roar that resonated throughout a one-block radius of the warehouse. The desired effects were seen almost immediately, as all 32 souls began booking it out of there, dropping whatever they were doing and fleeing the scene. One even jumped into the stream separating the main bulk of the town from the warehouse district, the fish-man taking his chances in the water, choosing to swim to the other side of the shore instead of booking it on foot with the rest of his coworkers. That whole operation took a total of 90 seconds, most of it down to waiting for the civvies to book it out of the AO on foot. This left barely four minutes on the clock¡­ but four minutes was all I needed to enact the next phase of the operation. Grappling up to the roof of a neighboring warehouse, I began steadying myself, planting my two feet on its relatively solid outcropping. The plan was simple. The time for talks had long since passed, and the ship that was diplomacy had already set sail. If these idiots wouldn¡¯t listen to reason, I¡¯d force my way in to stop their demise myself. Which meant slamming my way into that warehouse, gunning for that crate. The frustration at trying to save these idiots from themselves was probably how my mom felt when I kept trying to lick antifreeze because it looked like blueberry freezies. ¡°EVI.¡± ¡°Yes Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°All systems ready?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Alright, keep our aim straight for that crate, let¡¯s get this thing done.¡± With a deep breath, and a physical nod, I pushed hard on both of my armored boots. The powered exoskeleton enhanced the strength of my leap by orders of magnitude, and with a little help from gravity, I felt the world whizz by me as I descended fast towards that warehouse, my momentum only momentarily halted by those brick walls which gave way easily enough with a satisfying crumble. The force of impact didn¡¯t stop me, as I carried through the rest of the way with what speed and momentum remained. Time slowed to a complete and utter crawl as I made it past the layers of brick and entered the warehouse proper. I could just about make out the reactions of the three, as they watched as this seven foot tall monstrosity clad in armor with glowing red eyes crashed their little party through the walls of the warehouse. Shock, confusion, disbelief, all of that was present in the eyes of the Royal courier, as well as his aide that looked just about ready to reject reality. Mal¡¯tory however, whilst having turned around enough for me to see the look of sheer and utter shock in his face, acted quickly. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A series of glowing, green and gray translucent ¡®walls¡¯ were erected between me and him, walls which did literally nothing to slow my descent. Next, a series of similarly green and gray manacles emerged from thin air, aimed for my limbs, only to be completely neutralized on impact. Finally, Lartia responded, grabbing what seemed to be a decorative pen from one of his pouches, aiming it straight at me. A flurry of tendrils shot out, similar to the restraints Sorecar had tried to use on me to demonstrate what would happen when a mana-based restraint system was used against a mana-less being in a mana-resistant suit. The results were almost exactly the same, as the tendrils all but dissipated or fell limply to the ground, the moment they made contact with my armor. All of this happened in the span of a few seconds, as I landed just 10 feet short of the crate, my adrenaline-fueled muscles poised to close the gap. I felt my whole body leaping forward, just as it did in Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office. But just before I felt myself lifting off the ground, something stopped me. [Proximity Alert!] The solid cobblestone ground beneath me suddenly lifted up, reaching all the way up to just about the lip of my helmet, before clamping down on me hard like some venus flytrap made out of solid concrete. A fraction of a second later, I found myself pulled into the ground, my whole body sinking into the floor of the warehouse, leaving just my head exposed above the ground. I began struggling, thrashing against the concrete-cobblestone, which did give way and crumble, allowing me to gain purchase quickly. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS But just as easily as I gained purchase, so too did I lose any and all progress as the space I cleared up just kept getting filled back up, hardening, solidifying, before once again being crushed by the strength of my armor. It was an exercise in futility, the trap just kept reforming quicker than I could break it. ¡°So that¡¯s where you went.¡± Mal¡¯tory spoke under a strained, annoyed breath. ¡°I¡¯m assuming this one is one of yours?¡± Lartia quickly addressed the black-robed professor, who simply nodded in response. ¡°She¡¯s a troublesome one, as you have clearly seen.¡± They began shifting the conversation amongst each other, which prompted me to bump my speakers up to the max to overpower their little conversations. ¡°Lord Lartia.¡± I immediately circumvented Mal¡¯tory, going straight to the more pliable, less informed member of the party. ¡°Do you have any idea what¡¯s inside that crate?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see how any of this is your conce-¡± ¡°Because it belongs to me, and let me tell you right now, we have less than a handful of minutes before what¡¯s inside there kills all of you.¡± My eyes quickly locked onto the terrified Rila, who stood just feet away from Lartia. ¡°And as much as your black-robe has screwed me over, I¡¯m not about ready to let you die because of your own ignorance. Lord Lartia, there¡¯s a bomb inside of that crate. An explosive, an artifice designed to cause a deadly reaction that can kill. And it¡¯s clear Mal¡¯tory here wants you to take it off his hands, and into the hands of some poor fool so that he doesn¡¯t have to deal with the mess he¡¯s caused.¡± I spoke at a rapid-fire pace. This prompted the man to turn his attention straight towards Mal¡¯tory, who craned his head back and forth between me and Lartia. ¡°Professor Mal¡¯torry? Is this true-¡± ¡°Are you honestly going to listen to the deranged ramblings of a savage lunatic, Lord Lartia?¡± The black-robed shot back with a hiss. ¡°Savage, yes. Deranged, perhaps. But the girl¡­¡± The man grimaced. ¡°... As much as she¡¯s lacking in civility, has proven herself forthright thus far.¡± ¡°You¡¯re talking like you know the girl, Lord Lartia.¡± ¡°In fact I do. I encountered her in the forest, and up to this point she has demonstrated nothing but a tendency to be forthright¡­ much to her detriment. Why, she even acknowledged being a commoner when I¡¯d offered her an alternative narrative. Whilst that may be detrimental to her as a civilized member of society, that speaks leagues to the content of her character. Now, Professor, tell me about-¡± ¡°Enough!¡± Mal¡¯tory interjected with a loud, resonant shout, the first time I¡¯d seen him lose his temper. ¡°The time for polite conversation is over, Lord Lartia. As the issuer of your Royal Warrant, I order you to leave with this crate. Now.¡± ¡°And as the Royal Courier, I have an obligation to review the contents of any package, provided I have reasonable cause for concern that it may be a danger to me or my holdings.¡± The man retorted simply, which prompted Mal¡¯tory to step forward, stopping Lartia in his tracks. ¡°The contents within are an internal matter between the Academies.¡± ¡°And as I¡¯ve stated, I hold the right for a thorough investigation as per the integrity of my station and peerage.¡± The back and forths wouldn¡¯t stop, and if I wasn¡¯t able to get out of this concrete slushy to stop the crate in time¡­ there was at least one person here that I still needed to save. ¡°Rila! Get the hell out of here now! Please!¡± I shouted desperately, eliciting Lartia¡¯s attention as he momentarily regarded Rila with a dour scowl. ¡°Lartia-Siv, remain calm, the savage commoner may be truthful yet; but there is no reason to stoop down to hysterics. Remain by my side as we resolve this matter like civilized peoples.¡± The younger elf was clearly at odds with the whole situation, her eyes in a state of virtual panic and indecision as all the shouting just resulted in her becoming frozen, like a deer in headlights. It was at that point, as the last minute turned into seconds that an idea hit me. ¡°EVI, dunk the drone at Mal¡¯tory¡¯s head, now!¡± ¡°Which unit-¡± ¡°ANY OF THEM!¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± I watched as one third of the minimap on my HUD suddenly went dark. Seconds later, I heard a sharp whizzing from the outside growing louder and louder, before finally one of the battlenet drones suddenly entered the fray, zipping in through the hole in the wall and slamming into the old wizard¡¯s head before he could even register what was happening. BONK! That wasn¡¯t enough to knock him out of the fight though. But it was enough for me to prevent anyone from dying today, as the slushy-like concrete I was trapped in finally gave way, allowing me to break free. Without wasting any time, I leapt towards the crate with my hand outstretched. The world once more slowed to a crawl, as the seconds ticked by uncaringly, giving me barely a handful of seconds to complete the world¡¯s tensest game of tag. It was then, as barely ten seconds remained that I felt both of my legs tugged down at the last second. Mal¡¯tory¡¯s furious gaze locked eyes with my own as I found both of my feet once more pinned and sinking into the ground. But whilst the crate was still just a few feet out of reach, Rila wasn¡¯t. I grabbed the young elf by the ankles, pulling her in, and keeping her huddled between my chestplate and arms as best as I could, before suddenly, and without any fanfare, the whole world lit up in a bright white light. I felt the heart-stopping thump of a massive shockwave, then, an ear-shattering sound of an uncontrolled release of energy, and finally, a large, unrepentant slam against my whole body. Several more impacts pinged off of my armor in the span of a few seconds, as rock, brick, steel, and whatever else debris smashed against the unyielding space-age composites. This continued for an indeterminate amount of time, until it finally stopped. Until all there was left was a sudden, eerie silence. [Alert! Damage detected! Alert! Damage Detected!] ¡­ ¡°Requesting operator status.¡± ¡­ ¡°Urgent: Requesting operator status.¡± Chapter 40: Picking Up The Pieces ¡°How?¡± ¡°How what?¡± ¡°How did you keep on fighting? How did you keep up hope when it looked like there was no way out? The station was melting at that point, Auntie.¡± ¡°I think the question you¡¯re looking for, Emma, is not how but why. Because the how is obvious: I powered through. That¡¯s it.¡± ¡°Okay¡­ then, why-?¡± ¡°Because that¡¯s my job. I knew what the consequences were of me signing that contract. I was made very aware of what the oath and the creed meant. The moment that contract was signed, was the moment I could no longer say no to my duty and responsibilities. When you sign up to become a TSEC trooper, you become a keeper of the peace, a protector. You¡¯re the last line of hope. The very thing people look to when they¡¯re at their worst, when people have no one else to turn to. You know the Thai saying your mother always said to you when you were sick?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t think about Doctors until you''re sick?¡± ¡°Exactly. The same thing applies to us. Nobody thinks of us until they¡¯re staring death in the eye and there¡¯s nothing between them and the abyss but a thin sheet of composalite. Nobody registers our existence until shit hits the fan. But when it does, we¡¯re there. Ready to put it all on the line no matter the place, no matter the time, and no matter what stands in our way. Because that¡¯s what this whole thing is about. Everyone has a job to do, Emma, and when any one of us refuses to do it, it all comes apart at the seams. I did what I did that day because I knew there was no one else that could do it. If not me, then who? Even if it was just one civvie in need of rescue, or even if it was a thousand, it wouldn¡¯t have changed my actions that day. I would¡¯ve gone in there until fire ate through the damn hull, because there was no way I was going to betray the hope of those who put their faith in us. Do you understand, Emma?¡± ¡°I¡­ think I do. Thank you, Auntie Ran.¡± ¡°Critical: Requesting operator status.¡± ¡­ ¡°Running PHYS-STAT functional diagnostics. Standby.¡± [PHYS-STAT SYSTEMS ONLINE. RUNNING MEDICAL SURVEYS.] ¡­ [VITAL SIGNS: WITHIN NORMAL LIMITS. PRIMARY, SECONDARY SURVEY + ADJUNCT SURVEYS: AIRWAY INTACT. BREATHING NORMAL. NO SIGNS OF INTERNAL HEMORRHAGE. NO SIGNS OF TBI. GCS: PENDING. ALERT: RIGHT SHOULDER SPRAIN DETECTED. REPORT: PHYS-STAT [4] NON-LIFE THREATENING INJURIES DETECTED.] ¡°Cadet Booker, you must respond. Your mission is not over yet.¡± Pain hit me first. Then, it was shock, and exhaustion, but not necessarily in that order. But no matter what I felt, no matter how I felt, I knew the fact that I was still feeling anything at all meant that I had to continue the fight. Because the sudden silence that had blanketed the world not only meant that the explosion and its aftereffects were over¡­ It also meant that the noises that I should be hearing, the noises that I wanted to hear, were missing; and at a very real risk of going the same way as everything else the explosion had touched. ¡°Rila¡­¡± I managed out under a hushed, pained breath. My whole body tensed as I tried to move it. ¡°Critical: Requesting operator sta-¡± ¡°Override report procedures, reroute audio to speakers.¡± I ordered sharply, forcing each and every syllable through with immense stress. ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Rila¡­ can you hear me?¡± I spoke louder this time, my voice penetrating through what I was now making out to be nothing but darkness, darker than even the night sky that was supposed to be. A few careful tilts of my head elicited the cracking and crumbling of what sounded like broken brick and crumbled mortar. We were trapped underneath a solid layer of rubble. Well, trapped would¡¯ve been the word to use if it wasn¡¯t for the armor. A few seconds passed, and there was still no response. I tried craning my head down to where Rila should be, but scrunched up awkwardly as I was, there was no way of budging even an inch without digging out first. I could still feel her presence through the glove¡¯s haptic feedback though, and my left hand could just about reach what felt like her wrist, which meant I could still check up on her. Straining my left arm awkwardly through the rubble, I squeezed the lateral palmar aspect of her still-warm wrist¡­ Only to be met with nothing. No throbbing resistance against my finger. No familiar pulsatile sensation that would¡¯ve denoted life. ¡°EVI, EVI! In-¡± I paused, halted by a sharp shooting pain that ran up and down my right shoulder. ¡°Increase¡­ increase sensitivity of my left glove, try-¡± ¡°Do you wish to determine the pulse of this designated friendly: Rila?¡± ¡°Yes-¡± ¡°Pulse detected. Warning: Status Pulsus filiformis. Thready, inconsistent pulse. Possible underlying cardiological or pulmonary emergency noted. Further investigation is required for differential diagnosis.¡± No¡­ nonononono. My whole world just stopped at that point, as I began reaching dangerously close to the brink of panicking. ¡°Whatever you do, just don¡¯t fucking panic. It only makes things worse. Step back, reassess, plan, and execute.¡± A sharp pang of pain followed by my Aunt¡¯s advice was enough to pull me back from the brink, as the wave of panic that had threatened to sweep me away, just suddenly stopped short of doing so. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get out of here.¡± I paused, taking a deep breath, before I started trying to move my legs, only to find out that I could barely wiggle them more than an inch. Don¡¯t panic. Don¡¯t fricking panic. ¡°EVI, I can¡¯t move my legs.¡± I spoke calmly, carefully, even though that primal part of my brain was just about ready to throw a fit. ¡°Affirmative. Cause: mechanical, not medical. Cause is isolated to a failure of [1] vital component: EXO-SKEL-HIPACTUATOR. Field maintenance required to resume movement and mobility of lower extremities.¡± I didn¡¯t have time for this. I just fricking didn¡¯t. ¡°EVI, disable mobility and strength assist on sections of the suit affected by the damaged mechanical component.¡± ¡°Warning: Disabling mobility and strength assist functions will result in the affected areas relying on operator-strength alone. This suit is not rated for-¡± ¡°Just do it! I¡¯ll crawl my way out if I have to!¡± ¡°Acknowledged, disabling mobility and strength assist functions in lower extremities. Standby.¡± I felt a sudden pull as the bottom half of my body felt like it¡¯d gained a good hundred or so pounds almost instantly. The ramifications of my decisions aside, I knew that every second wasted trying to finagle a repair in such an awkward position would be precious seconds detracted from getting Rila the help she needed. Heck, it might¡¯ve just been the lack of air or the compressive forces that was causing her condition¡­ Right? I didn¡¯t put much time into thinking about the why as I did about the arduous process of digging my way out of the rubble. And with my lower extremities forced to move without active assistance, it took what felt like an entire minute before I was able to clear the path up. ¡°Just hang on Rila, we¡¯re almost out of here.¡± I spoke under another strained breath as I began making my way out of there inch by hard-earned inch. Without the exoskeleton¡¯s active assist systems, I was left struggling trying to move my lower half against both the weight of the suit, and the weight of the rubble immediately around it. I found myself dragging both my own body and Rila¡¯s with just my arms most of the way, before finally, we broke through into the open air and what remained of the warehouse floor now covered by a craggy layer of brick, mortar, and steel; with bits of wood belonging to what I assumed was what was left of Lord Lartia¡¯s carriage convoy scattered amongst the wreckage. It was there, in the dead of night, and the ominous silence that I finally got a good glimpse at the state of the girl as I laid her out on one of the few flat clearings that existed next to the warehouse. It was after a few more seconds, and with the aid of the suit¡¯s external light sources, that I finally noticed it. A bit more light revealed what was both a gut-wrenching realization that was accompanied by the relief that there was something I could do about this, since the cause of her condition became very, very clear to me. A thin trail of crimson, and the quickly pooling layer of viscous red fluid, was enough to give me hints as to what was going on. Another visual inspection saw a small, but exposed wound near her flanks. Without a moment of hesitation, I began reaching for my medpack, momentarily pausing out of the minor injury sustained from the blast; but quickly overcome by the pressing need to act now. Unlatching and accessing the contents within with my right arm acting as a weak brace, I quickly found what I was looking for, and began desperately turning back to the trade apprentice to evaluate the other less than obvious signs of trauma that I might''ve overlooked after seeing her more obvious conditions. Her airway was fine, but I still applied yet another spare cervical collar to her neck just for good measure. I¡¯ll run out of cervical collars at this rate¡­ Her breathing was¡­ barely there, and strained, but nothing I could do about that now other than to try seeing if the pulse oximeter would even work with alien physiology. Which brought me to that third, far more pressing point in my eyes. The very obvious source of all of this, her bleeding. I grabbed a small tube from within the medipack, one with a built-in applicator that would make one-handing this possible. Gently, and trying my best not to aggravate anything else, I began applying the jelly-like brownish coppery paste onto that wound. It adhered almost instantly, before just seconds later, forming a tight bond over the affected area. The bleeding had stopped. But almost as quickly as I could take a deep breath from that emergency, another quickly began to flare up. As the pulse oximeter I¡¯d attached to the apprentice¡¯s finger that had read somewhere in the realm of the upper 90s, had suddenly stopped. This meant it could no longer detect any movement of oxygen. This meant that the trade apprentice¡¯s pulse was undetectable. Which meant¡­ she was going into cardiac arrest. My training sent me into an automatic frenzy as I moved forward and atop the trade apprentice. Forcing my right arm into alignment, and pressing my left arm atop of it with my hands interlocked, I began pushing down against her sternum, rising back up, then pushing down again. ¡°Please¡­¡± I forced myself to speak through all of the different emotions I was feeling right now. So many of which I just¡­ wasn¡¯t prepared to feel. ¡°Please be okay.¡±
Rila Is this¡­ the end? It must be. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Because as much as I¡¯ve tried, tried, and tried, I can¡¯t escape the family legacy, I can¡¯t escape the fates that bind.. And if there was ever an ending that was befitting of the Etulsa name, it would be this. ¡°Life is just one grand, big adventure. From the moment your eyes open, to the moment my eyes close, I want nothing more than for you to see and experience the world. A world so many are barred from exploring, a world so many lack the means to explore, a world so rich in life and splendor as it is in horrors and tragedies, a world that we will never be able to cross in our lifetimes but one we¡¯ll try our darndest to do so. Ours is a life of adventure, and because all of our paths lead to the same destination, we might as well make the best of our journey.¡± I recall my mother¡¯s voice speaking these words in a manner so enchanting that I once took it for gospel. I recall my father¡¯s constant reaffirmations of these words, as we traveled from village to village, town to town, taking up residence for weeks, months, even years at a time. I recall my brother¡¯s insistence on actively working towards these goals even at a very young age. An age where adventuring was definitely not appropriate, but one that was permitted owing to my father¡¯s connections. He pushed himself, training himself towards that lifestyle in mind. I recall myself trying desperately, ceaselessly, to follow in the same footsteps. But I never amounted to much. At least, not in the eyes of my parents and siblings. Because it wasn¡¯t the life I wanted. Nor was it the life I was destined for. That was someone else¡¯s life, and if the fates had been kinder to my parents, then perhaps a more daring soul would¡¯ve been birthed in my stead. Alas, fate demanded that I upend my parents¡¯ best intentions. And now, fate seemed to have deemed it fitting for that life to end in a fit of irony. From my novice years, to my apprenticeship, I had led what was undoubtedly a life more fitting of a crownlands commoner. I¡¯d sequestered my questionable heritage. I¡¯d reestablished myself in the middling politics of the commanaries, and I¡¯d taken it upon myself to willingly sign my Crownlands Commons privilege away, for the sake of accruing even more stability. I¡¯d ended up in the service of the Lartia house, whereby fate had seen it fit yet again to mime and mimic the life I¡¯d willingly left behind, as my service ironically placed me on the road yet again. A road which took me every which way, until finally, it led me down this path. A path which I knew had been wrong from the moment Master Lartia had accepted that deal, and was all but confirmed by our encounter of the blue knight of the forest. Cadet Emma Booker. It was here that I finally felt that latent flame of wanderlust once more taking the charge. It was here that I allowed myself to be overcome with enough unwarranted sentimentality that I violated decorum to approach the stranger in armor. The commoner in noble attire. The commoner with a noble temperament. The commoner¡­ who was not ashamed to admit their birthright or heritage. The commoner, who had seemingly struck enough of a chord in the upper echelons of power to have warranted a black-robe to act outside of his Expectant Duties. Master Lartia had commented on how not only unusual, but completely unseemly this whole warrant was. For it broke Expectant Decorum to such a degree that most would find it unsavory, if not entirely career-threatening. This rushed job was beyond questionable. It was outright suspicious. But a job was a job. And to turn down a Royal warrant of such a caliber was not within my master¡¯s temperament. Thus, I followed unquestioningly. From the forests, through the town, and into the warehouse that was now my tomb. ¡°...Rila¡­¡± There it was, the ending to my story. ¡°...Rila¡­!¡± A distant, terse, distinctly female voice. This was it. I¡¯d reached my destination, even if it took a roundabout way of getting there. ¡°Mother¡­¡±
Emma ¡°Mother¡­¡± I heard Rila finally mumbling out after a solid five minutes of nonstop CPR. ¡°H-hey.¡± I managed out under a hushed breath, not so much out of breath from the CPR like most people would be without the assistance of power armor, but because my unpowered exo-skel from the waist down made this a legday workout and a half. ¡°Save the mom stuff for when you get home. Welcome back to the world of the living, Rila.¡± The girl began coughing out weakly, straining her head this way and that, before landing her gaze right back on me. ¡°Am¡­ Are we¡­ Oh Emma Booker, are we dead?¡± ¡°No, no. We¡¯re both unfortunately still very much alive and kicking.¡± I managed out with a cheeky, confident smile under my helmet, which seemed to carry through despite the lack of a visible face. It was then, and just then, that another heart-stopping ROAR interrupted the otherwise peaceful scene. As what was once the warehouse floor, buried under a solid three feet of rubble, suddenly gave way, leading to what I could only describe as an underground section of the warehouse that glowed a brilliant orange and crimson like the depths of hell itself. ¡°Are you certain we aren¡¯t dead, Emma Booker?¡± The trade apprentice once more spoke warily, and with a significant amount of doubt coloring her otherwise panicked voice. ¡°Fuck it, I don¡¯t even know now myself, Rila.¡± The world around us started to fall apart at the seams, because instead of just the charred out and broken remains of a brick and mortar structure, the ground had seemingly just given way to what looked to be a wide cavernous basement once hidden in plain sight. There were now dozens, if not hundreds of living, breathing, creatures that had begun squirming and crawling out of the now-exposed basement of the warehouse. Creatures which were most notably absent from my initial sensor sweep, for reasons that were now becoming very obvious to me. Creatures which ranged from what looked to be small, raccoon-like animals with glowing forepaws that scurried haphazardly out of the basement in literal droves, to larger, more imposing looking beasts that began filling the entire space with a series of actual, genuine real roars this time around. It looked as if a fucking magical zoo had been unleashed upon this small corner of the town, and it was clear that the explosion had acted as the catalyst for this breakout. It was about the same time that I finally saw movement from underneath another pile of rubble, as a male humanoid form emerged, his black-robe in tatters, revealing what looked to be an actual piece of platemail armor that had miraculously formed where his shirt and tunic should have been. He was now suddenly dressed for the occasion, as if he¡¯d anticipated this from the very beginning. A certain monotone voice belonging to a familiar black-robed professor began echoing throughout the utterly demolished space, as the elf began looking around desperately for someone else. ¡°Lartia. Lartia can you hear me?¡± The man spoke with visible strain, coughing in between every few words as seconds passed with no response given. Nothing, but the cacophony of animal roars and the crunching of rubble underneath. ¡°As Ap Talor¡± I heard the man speak in the same otherworldly cadence the apprentice had used during the null fight, though it was clear the older elf had far, far more confidence when saying it. Though bruised, battered, and bloodied, Mal¡¯tory began raising his hand towards a small gaggle of what looked to be a pack of wolf-like creatures, before hitting them with a solid blast of green and gray energy. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS They suddenly disappeared into nothingness, as he continued fumbling around the wreckage, moving about with a hobbled limp, his eyes clearly scanning for something, as he stopped at a particularly raised pile of rubble that hadn¡¯t yet sunken into the depths of the warehouse, and began levitating the bricks all at once. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS It was there that the remains of the once fancifully decorated carriage was unearthed, crushed and reduced to a pile of colorful splinters, along with what seemed to be its owner. ¡°Lartia¡­ you fool.¡± I heard Mal¡¯tory utter under his breath, as he began walking through the increasingly hectic swarm of magical creatures that seemed poised to attack. Their claws, fangs, and whatever else enchanted implements all aimed towards the black-robed elf. One after another, they struck, leaping, clawing, grasping, their mouths open, their claws unsheathed, only to be met with the same fate of those packs of wolf-like creatures from earlier. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ALE- ¡°Tone it down, EVI.¡± I managed out, prompting the EVI to instead relegate the litany of mana radiation warnings into a neat list that began piling one atop of another as Mal¡¯tory continued to bathe the area in spell after spell. But as soon as it looked as if the warehouse had been cleared, as soon as it looked like the unexpected threats had died down, more emerged from the exposed basement. This time, they were orders of magnitude larger than Mal¡¯tory, or even the carriage. It was around the same time that I began hearing yet another series of far-off sounds, a series of what sounded to be town-bells, that rang sequentially, one after another. DING-DONG DING-DONG DING-DONG They were more than likely the town¡¯s version of an alarm or an air raid siren or something. This prompted the black-robed professor to double down, and double down hard as he turned towards these larger, far more imposing creatures that looked like something straight out of a particularly twisted DM¡¯s homebrew creature-feature list. From large chimeric beasts that should not have existed, to monstrous hulking amalgamations of what looked to be souped up versions of magical beasts I¡¯d recognized from my hours of Castles and Wryverns lore-dives, the black-robed wizard begun clearing up shop hard. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Throughout all of this however, I continued paying close attention to the trade apprentice¡¯s condition. Trying my best to see if there was anything else I could do. ¡°Is there anywhere else you¡¯re hurting?¡± I asked, keeping one eye peeled for any stray magical beast that might¡¯ve escaped Mal¡¯tory¡¯s containment efforts. ¡°Everywhere¡­¡± Rila managed out weakly, her eyes struggling to keep focus, her attention waxing in and out as I had to squeeze her hand several times to prevent her from dozing off. ¡°Hey, hey. Listen to me. You¡¯re doing fine. You¡¯re doing good alright? You hear that?¡± I paused for effect, allowing the ringing sounds of the town¡¯s bells to filter down to the trade apprentice. ¡°Help¡¯s on the way. I¡¯ll keep you alive in the meantime okay? So stay with me. You¡¯re doing great, Rila.¡± ¡°Mmmn¡­¡± The elf returned back fitfully. ¡°Just focus on me, nothing else.¡± I continued, working through my own pain and exhaustion as yet another unexpected turn of events reared its ugly head. Literally this time around. ROOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!! A deafening, 140 decibel noise jolted Rila, and to a lesser extent me, to attention. From the hellish opening in the floor of the warehouse, came a rippling shimmer that criss-crossed the air, blasting out sparked wisps and flares of magic that carried that otherworldly vorpal sound. Rearing ominously from the ruinous crater came the face of a creature whose partially open maw was enough to swallow both of us whole. It was unmistakably, and undeniably- ¡°A¡­ an¡­ an amethyst dragon¡­¡± Rila muttered out, her eyes narrowing into pinpricks, and her hand clenching deeper and deeper into my gloved ones. ¡°H-how¡­ why is it here-¡± Claws covered in a series of interlacing opaque scales clung to the edges of the former ground floor of the warehouse. A body lined with cracks, dents, and pits, interspersed with misshapen crystalloid scales, began raising itself up and out of the depths of the basement. Its transparent lavender wings, cracked, and shattered at the edges, began flapping wildly about, generating these otherworldly windchime effects that resonated throughout the entire space. The next few seconds saw its attention shifting squarely on us, and in that time I swore I could see it narrowing its lustrous gemstone-like eyes at me, before turning its full attention to the likes of Mal¡¯tory who stood there with both hands confidently poised for a protracted fight. ROOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!! A fight that never came. THUD! As the bulk of the crystalloid dragon¡¯s tail had slammed against the vastly smaller elf hard, hard enough that the magically-manifested armor he wore actually cracked open with a resounding, metallic clang. This was followed by a series of metallic skids as the man was thrown back onto the streets, before finally crashing into the small canal with a resounding splash! ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 775% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The developments didn¡¯t stop there, as portal after portal was opened, leading to a set of familiar robes and faces emerging onto the scene much too late to save Mal¡¯tory, but just in time to deal with the dragon. Though it was clear from the faces of Vanavan, Belnor, Chiska and co, that there was a solid disconnect in what they¡¯d expected when they¡¯d teleported here onto the scene. ¡°By the Gods¡­¡± Vanavan spoke under a hushed breath, as Chiska¡¯s cat-like eyes narrowed down on both me and the trade apprentice, whilst the two other professors were preoccupied with the dragon. ¡°Vanavan! I found Emma Booker!¡± Chiska yelled out loudly, prompting the blue-robed to hop on over towards me before even thinking of dealing with the dragon. In fact, that only left Belnor who was desperately trying to contain the large beast with a series of magical chains. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 950% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS All of which were broken before they even had the time to gain any purchase. ¡°Emma Booker!¡± Vanavan yelled out loudly, turning towards me and me alone, choosing to ignore the injured trade apprentice beside me. ¡°It¡¯s no longer safe to be here, I shall teleport you back to the dorms. All will be-¡± ¡°NO!¡± I yelled out, holding fast to the trade apprentice all the while. ¡°You owe me an explanation, you owe me a lot more than that even. You¡­ you made a promise when I arrived that-¡± ¡°Emma, I¡¯m sorry.¡± The blue robe spoke with what I could best describe was a weak, pathetic, yet strangely genuine tone of voice. ¡°I¡¯m so incredibly sorry. Just¡­¡± ROOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!! ¡°It is no longer safe here. Please, we need to-¡± PHWEEEE! PHWEEEE! I heard the sounds of whistles approaching closer and closer from the distance, followed by the clanking of armor and the yelling of what I could only imagine was the town guard and whatever gaggle of adventurers were gathered up. ¡°There will be no further discussion, you must go, now-¡± ¡°Take care of her, then.¡± I pointed to Rila. ¡°You owe me that much.¡± I spoke emphatically, making sure there was no room for negotiation, turning towards Chiska for good measure. ¡°We will.¡± The felinor replied with an affirmative nod. ¡°You have my word, for what that¡¯s worth, Emma Booker.¡± She took a moment to turn towards Vanavan, narrowing her eyes at him, before gesturing for me to get up. ¡°Until we meet again, Rila. Stay safe.¡± I spoke as I suddenly felt the world around me shifting and bending, that same darkness from prior to the forests overtaking me, before finally and without warning¡­ I found my surroundings abruptly shifted. Looking around frantically, my EVI panicking once more, I saw that I was placed right back where I started just a day ago. In front of a familiar set of ornately crafted wooden doors, in a long, cobblestone corridor. The noises and chaos, the blood and sweat, all of it¡­ was just gone. I looked down at my armor, to see that the more obvious signs of battle were gone, save for some inexplicable scrapes and patches of dirt. Vanavan was clearly covering all of his bases. Making sure that the obvious piece of evidence wasn¡¯t with me when I was shunted back unceremoniously to this microcosm detached from the rest of the world. Yet as I¡¯d quickly see, the Academy clearly wasn¡¯t as detached from the outside world as I¡¯d initially thought. As I saw a group of ten, twenty, then nearly forty or so students gathering near one of the windows of the student¡¯s common lounge I¡¯d only walked past before. The common lounge on the top floor of this tower provided a similar view to my own dorm, a view of the town and the lake it bordered. As I hobbled my way over, my legs still straining against the weight of the armor, it was clear enough what everyone was staring at. As all of their attention was turned towards the town¡­ And the smoke billowing from one of its districts. A thick, black, plume of devastation, set against the backdrop of idyllic peace that was the Nexus. Chapter 41: No Stone Left Unturned Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0230 Hours. 2 Hours and 30 Minutes After Emma¡¯s Disappearance Thacea ¡°It¡¯ll be alright.¡± The earthrealmer spoke with that confidence-inspiring bravado. ¡°I¡¯ll be back before you know it. Promise you won¡¯t blow anything up while I¡¯m gone alright?¡± Rounding off the sentiment with a jab at humor at that. Perhaps it was her armor hiding any and all physical cues that could be read. Perhaps it was the unknown mechanisms aiding in the translation of her speech that was preventing any sign of distress from surfacing. Because not a thing, not a single thing, ever once broke her cavalier spirit. ¡°Remember what I told you over dinner: calm is the ally of the victor, panic is the flatterer of the defeated.¡± I spoke firmly, maintaining that signature sharp stare befitting of an Avinor of Royal heritage, despite the obvious handicaps present in such an effort. The armor¡¯s tinted lenses made every attempt at this gesture a challenge, as without irises to fixate upon or pupils to peer into, I was left with only my imagination to fill in the empty void that was the earthrealmer¡¯s eyes. Yet despite that obstacle, I could still feel our gazes connecting through those tinted lenses. What happened next however, was something I did not expect. As perhaps in making up for her handicaps in the physical space we all took for granted, the earthrealmer without any warning or hint of hesitation, reached for my hands with her own gloved fingers. Those alien digits coated in an equally bizarre material - rubbery, and inlaid with strangely textured bumps and patterns, tightened around my sensitive talons in what most onlookers would call an uncouth gesture of unkempt barbarism, but one that I personally could only describe as an unsolicited gesture of brazen solidarity. A gesture that for all intents and purposes, made the Earthrealmer but one of only a handful of people to have been brave enough to bridge the gap, to not hesitate in making contact with the tainted body belonging to a tainted soul. ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ll be fine.¡± She reaffirmed with that same strangely textured voice, all the while maintaining an undeniable overture of boldness. There were¡­ so many more things I wished to say in that instance. A thousand decisions were running through my head, my whole body wishing to react as a fledgling does in flight, to delay and defer¡­ but circumstances demanded an answer. A response had to be given, and only one of several hundred that came to mind felt appropriate despite being the most inappropriate to any other self-respecting member of nobility. ¡°I will count that as a promise, Emma. Know that knights do not break their word.¡± I returned with a confident, reassuring tone of voice. Mimicking the strange jocular sense of bravado the human had championed in every single challenging encounter thus far. That entire exchange happened just a scant few hours ago, a little over midnight. It was now 2:30 in the midst of night, and the Earthrealmer had yet to have returned.
Tick tick tick. I watched as the seconds turned into minutes. Tick tick tick. Then minutes into hours. Tick tick tick. Hours spent on edge. Tick tick tick. Hours spent with my heart racing. Tick tick tick. Hours spent without a moment of reprieve from my most intrusive of thoughts, and my most flighty of macabre fantasies. Hours spent desperately trying to curtail the ever encroaching, insidious march of vexing turmoil in any way I could, but finding that none worked. The warmth of the baths did not help. Neither did the soothing teas or herbal essences, not that any were known to be of any use before regardless. Any effort made to assuage the strain of the mental by means of pampering and manipulating the physical, were futile. Perhaps I subconsciously believed that this time would be different. Perhaps I was hoping for a complete dissociative detachment through the repetitive rituals associated with the preparation of tea itself, rather than the impalpable effects granted by its consumption. Perhaps I was just hoping to busy my body and my mind with something, anything to halt that gnawing anxiety associated with being relegated to a flightress-in-waiting. Because all I could do¡­ the only thing I could do now, was wait. Wait as the resonance of time tightens towards an ultimate end. Wait as the impossible results of an unlikely confrontation are revealed. Wait, as I tried my best to dampen my hopes, for the sake of maintaining realistic expectations. But I could not. For dampening my hopes in this particular situation, would imply the mitigation of another¡¯s fate. And whilst I could always resign myself to a more tempered expectation of my own fate and destiny¡­ I inexplicably found myself incapable of doing so for the fate of someone else. Someone who had been an actor in my life for scantily a week. Someone who was by all means a disruption to the passive stability I longed for. Someone who threatened to upend the tentative circumstances of my place. Someone who had time and time again demonstrated the fallibility of it all. A commoner who I saw as my equal. Perhaps even more than an equal, because for the first time in so long, I found myself in a position where I cared more for the fate of another rather than my own; spitting in the face of everything I was taught to feel about commoners. I wasn¡¯t supposed to feel anything toward those of muddied lineages and lesser blood, yet I couldn¡¯t stop myself from it even if I wanted to. I found that every moment spent trying to force myself to relax, was another moment I felt useless. It was a feeling that was foreign to me, as foreign as the earthrealmer I found myself worrying over. I found myself unable to sleep, unable to think without a dark overbearing miasma blanketing each and every one of my thoughts. So I decided on the next logical course of action: a change of pace. Taking my time in yet again another series of slow, methodical rituals, I blanketed myself in twenty different pieces of silken fabrics, and a robe to top it off for good measure, before walking silently into the shared living area that was our dormitory¡¯s living room. The mana-fueled fireplace roared as soon as I got near, as it reacted to my presence in the same way it did with everyone, the Earthrealmer being the sole exception to this pattern. The same went for the windows, as I could feel the push and pull, the ever gentle tugs of the mana-streams connecting with my own mana-field. The windows themselves were capable of changing tint, color, and shade, or even acting as a magnifier to view places so far down below in exquisite breathtaking detail. Most if not all adjacent realmers would flock to these sorts of novelties like children to toys. All would find it more than intuitive to use. All, with the sole exception of the Earthrealmer, who lacked even the ability to sense that these latent accouterments even existed. And while she spoke of being unable to sense the mana-streams, it was not until it was evidenced to me by her inability to even make use of the washrooms without aid from myself, that I finally started to understand. Emma was for all intents and purposes, blind to more than half of the world around her. This inability to manipulate the world around her, to even see what is in effect the commonalities of the everyday and the mundane, was something that both worried me and baffled me in equal measures. On one hand, her inability to see and interact made her seem so childlike, and in the eyes of most she more than likely would¡¯ve looked entirely helpless. This was a fact that Qiv and his clique made obvious during our thankfully short-lived encounter. Yet, as Emma had demonstrated time and time again, she made up for this with the mana-less tools and methods that not only compensated for this handicap, but surpassed it by leagues and bounds. This passing, fleeting thought, was once more tempered by the overbearing reality of the situation. As despite Emma¡¯s capabilities, despite all that she¡¯d demonstrated, if push came to shove and she was faced with the wrath of a black-robed professor- ¡°Can¡¯t sleep, princess?¡± A gravely, baritone voice broke me out of my all-consuming reverie, one that was distracting enough to override my typically cautious sensibilities that would¡¯ve otherwise sensed the lupinor prince from half a room away. Though returning to my typical sensibilities was thankfully, still something I mustered without a moment of delay. ¡°If I were to be so brazen, I believe that makes two of us, pri-¡± I paused, catching myself mid-way as I saw the lupinor¡¯s eyes narrowing at that little misstep made in Emma¡¯s absence. ¡°-Thalmin.¡± The lupinor prince nodded approvingly of that self-correction, as he joined me next to the large floor to ceiling windows that lined the outward-facing walls. ¡°You¡¯d be half right there, Princess.¡± The lupinor prince began, pausing to let out a sigh for good measure, before shuffling his half-open robe somewhat, revealing the half-groomed gray fur underneath. ¡°I¡¯m also taking this opportunity as an excuse to let the Vunerian tucker himself out. It¡¯s far easier to sleep when he¡¯s not his rambunctious self. Or rather, when he¡¯s fast asleep and lacking the conscious ability to hold a conversation.¡± ¡°The Vunerian is that talkative in private?¡± I shot back curiously. ¡°Quite.¡± Thalmin spoke with a resonant growl. ¡°Let it be known that my choice of sharing my quarters with that lizard was a sacrifice, and continues to be a sacrifice for as long as he draws breath.¡± The prince shot back half jokingly, as I simply nodded once in response. The prince took this sudden bout of silence to carry the conversation forward on his own terms, cocking his head before continuing. ¡°I¡¯m assuming since it¡¯s not the little blue thing that¡¯s keeping you up, it must be something else. Perhaps something to do with our resident newrealmer?¡± ¡°Perceptive as always, Thalmin.¡± I retorted, before I quickly corrected myself. ¡°I apologize, I did not intend for that to sound as defensive as it might have sounded.¡± ¡°Oh please, you Aetheronrealmers observe Lingua Regalia, Expectant Decorum, and a thousand other oral cues to such a degree that I find it difficult to see what even constitutes an offense anymore.¡± The mercenary prince shot back with a hearty laugh. ¡°Suffice it to say, no offense is taken princess, you did not sully my honor with a scant few words. It¡¯ll take a lot more than that to break through this thick skull.¡± He reached up lazily to his head, making a point to knock on it in a manner that more befitted the mannerisms of a commoner than a noble of Royal standing. ¡°If you sincerely do not wish to talk about what bothers you, I am more than happy to-¡± ¡°No, no. It¡¯s alright.¡± I interjected with a sharp chirp. ¡°I am indeed worried, and frighteningly concerned about this whole situation. In most other instances, in fact in any other context, matters of dispute such as these are relatively simple and straightforward. Indeed, no matter how convoluted the interpersonal drama or political context, there was always a sense of predictability in the manner in which conflicts played out. The uniformity of the Pax Nexica, the standardization of the Nexian Reformations, the unspoken and unwritten systems of Expectant Decorum and the Ties that Bind, all of them can be studied, broken down to their simplest components, and applied to any circumstance. The irony that such a complex and convoluted system had led to this sense of predictability is quite palpable, yes. Yet this¡­ this entire turn of events? Every aspect of it is unprecedented. From the players involved, through to the interests they represent, down to the fundamentals of what they are.¡± I took a moment to pause, taking in and releasing a series of sharp breaths. ¡°These past five days have been nothing but a consistent series of axiomatic disruptions in not just the status quo, but the very reality we assumed was self-evident. Which means I cannot predict what will happen with any degree of certainty.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°The system you use to predict these sorts of things all rely on one indispensable factor to always be true, princess.¡± Thalmin spoke, pausing for effect, clearly waiting for me to shoot back a questioning remark. ¡°It relies on all actors acting rationally, or at the very least, acting in the best interests of their own stations.¡± I completed the lupinor¡¯s thought for him, which he responded with a sly, toothy grin. ¡°Exactly, and the Earthrealmer is the very definition of an actor that does not conform to this fundamental assumption, thus throwing any and all potential for traditional political analysis out the window; the same way we threw the old ruling family out of their windows. Or, should I say our windows.¡± The prince added with a certain dark cackle at the end of that sentiment. I didn¡¯t immediately respond following that, as all I could do was to gently nod in affirmation, allowing Thalmin¡¯s words to linger in the air. The silence continued for just a little while longer, but as the lupinor was prone to do, he wasn¡¯t one to leave things up in the air. His Havenbrockian heritage was quick to reassert itself, although this time, it was clear it was warranted. ¡°I understand where your concern comes from, princess, because I can¡¯t deny that that¡¯s part of why I¡¯m out here in the dead of night after all.¡± He began, in as sympathetic of a tone as he could, a slight bump in his voice demonstrating that despite the warrior-fueled confidence befitting of a mercenary prince, there was clearly some hints of worry and concern there sweltering underneath it all. ¡°Despite all the Earthrealmer has shown us, there¡¯s always that concern that the cruel and unforgiving world that is the Nexus will just swallow her whole, novel artifices and all. That concern is real, and it¡¯s reasonable enough to have. However, I think that by allowing these concerns to flourish, we would be doing a disservice to the Earthrealmer¡¯s capabilities.¡± Thalmin concluded. ¡°So what I propose we do is rest. So that we can give the Earthrealmer a hero¡¯s welcome when she returns.¡± He continued, planting both hands to his hips in a triumphant pose. The lupinor¡¯s eyes met my own throughout that brief spiel, and in doing so, I couldn''t help but to be at least somewhat affected by that havenbrockian zeal. ¡°You have a point, Thalmin. However, whether or not I will be able to temper my resolve to that of a warrior¡¯s stalwart spirit, remains to be seen.¡± ¡°You give yourself too little credit, princess. If anything, by surviving the gauntlet that has become the grace period, you¡¯ve demonstrated more resolve than the typical adjacent royal, and I mean that in the most respectful way of course.¡± We locked eyes for a moment, before turning both of our gazes back towards the scenery that would¡¯ve been all but incredible for the likes of the plains-dwelling Thalmin, but incredibly banal to any Aetheronrealmer worth their flight feathers. ¡°I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll return sooner than we expect, princess.¡± Thalmin reasserted, which when coupled with the Havenbrockian zeal, was enough to give me pause for thought. ¡°I¡¯m sure of it.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0730 Hours. 7 Hours and 30 Minutes After Emma¡¯s Disappearance Thalmin Hope was always a mixed bag. When utilized appropriately and sparingly, it was a frighteningly effective tool to shore up morale, a means by which to rally the banners for one last hoorah where time and patience were the only things separating victory from a complete route. When implemented incorrectly and with external factors complicating the mix, it not only proved to be ineffective, but a compounding factor contributing to the loss of trust, faith, and morale that would turn a simple route into an all out collapse of whatever force you commanded. But this wasn¡¯t a war. Nor was it a situation where the martial could be applied across the board. Still, the effects of a falsified hope were universal. At least, it was universal enough to prompt me to feel an overwhelming sense of guilt as I made my way out of the bedroom with groggy eyes and stuffy ears, to find the princess almost exactly where she was the night before. And with a distinct lack of any signs of the earthrealmer, a pit slowly but surely began to form within my iron stomach. That runt inside my mind wanted nothing more than to remain silent, to keep my mouth shut, to stop myself from hurting the situation anymore than I had already done. It¡­ hurt to speak, to address one¡¯s failures. To face oneself head on felt like I was back in the proving dens, trying to speak with an iron muzzle affixed to my face. Though metaphorical, the weight felt real, as I internally struggled to find the strength to move my maw for what should have been a simple act. ¡°I take it Emma has not returned.¡± I stated a matter-of-factly, with that voice that wasn¡¯t my own, with a forced confidence that bordered on the ludicrous. The gnawing desire to simply scurry off still very much there, but tempered by the resolve imbued from years of training and months in the proving grounds. ¡°No.¡± The avinor princess responded with that same, decidedly cautious tone of voice. Never dipping too far into outright defeatism, but never once stepping into the realm of the optimistic either. That response tore into me harder than a flight of arrows ever could. If there ever was an avatar of the diplomatic warrior, then it would be this avinor. For it was clear that a lifetime of living with a social handicap that was taint, had sharpened even her most passive of words into daggers capable of slicing through even the toughest of barriers. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t give up hope just yet princess-¡± ¡°I¡¯m not giving up hope.¡± The princess interjected, killing my hastily formed response before it even had a chance to walk. ¡°But the time for waiting is over.¡± She quickly added, her determined gaze not once flinching, not once faltering despite the obvious hours of sleep that she¡¯d missed up to this point. ¡°The time has come for us to take the initiative.¡± ¡°What do you suggest we do?¡± I shot back. ¡°We find her, through official channels and self-directed means, we have to make the effort.¡± A sense of renewed direction filled me at that proclamation, as I couldn¡¯t help but to unsheathe a toothy smile at that. ¡°That is a sentiment I can reciprocate, princess. Where do you suggest we head first?¡± ¡°Breakfast.¡± ¡°Well, I can¡¯t deny that a hearty meal before a long day is what will-¡± ¡°I don¡¯t intend on focusing on sustenance, Thalmin. I intend on seeing exactly who appears on the Professors¡¯ table, and if we are able to gain an audience with them through the rights of personal privilege, this is the best place to start.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 1045 Hours. 10 Hours and 45 Minutes After Emma¡¯s Disappearance Thacea I¡¯ve had more than my fair share of meals wherein the threats to my life and legacy sat across from me with all the pretenses and properness of a cordial acquaintance. This breakfast was no different. As my eyes were squarely locked onto the Professor¡¯s table, all the while my ears continued to dull out the Vunerian¡¯s incessant ramblings. Every member of the faculty was present, with the sole exception of the black robed professor, along with a certain apprentice. It took nearly three hours for the charade to be over, and by that time I¡¯d positioned myself outside of the halls, in between the blue-robed professor and his intended destination. ¡°Professor Vanavan.¡± I spoke softly, bowing with my head held slightly angled to my heart, and my arm placed across my chest, my talons gripping my shoulder tight, a practiced motion that was appropriate for the man¡¯s standing. ¡°I humbly wish to invoke my right of personal privilege, on the grounds a violation of collective integrity incurred upon my peer group.¡± The surprisingly young male nodded once in reply, his facial features reading as genuinely perplexed, as I counted five seconds before rising from my bowed posture. ¡°We haven¡¯t yet solidified houses yet and you¡¯re already claiming violations of your collective integrity, young lady?¡± ¡°I humbly defer my grievances to the exceptional circumstances stemming from the unique disposition of the members of my peer group, Professor Vanavan.¡± I shot back, eliciting a questioning raise of a brow, but not much more. ¡°Inferring from this, I assume this has something to do with the newrealmer?¡± ¡°Yes Professor.¡± I stated curtly, which seemed to elicit a genuine look of concern from the man. Something I was not expecting from any Nexian, let alone an elf of high standing such as the Assistant Dean. ¡°Walk with me, if you would please.¡± The man responded just as abruptly, as I found myself accompanying the professor to his office, Thalmin trailing close behind as Ilunor had once more vanished from sight.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Faculty Tower, The Offices of the Assistant Dean Offices. Local Time: 1445 Hours. 14 Hours and 45 Minutes After Emma¡¯s Disappearance Thacea Pleasantries were exchanged for the most part, and after we¡¯d arrived at the man¡¯s office, we were forced to wait a solid two hours before he¡¯d see us. Though considering our place within the social sphere, the wait was more than reasonable, at least by Nexian standards. What was not reasonable was the wishy-washy back and forths between myself and the blue-robed Professor, as the unpleasant, and rather rude presumptions on his office was revealed to me one conversation at a time. The man was nothing but a pliable placeholder. Inhabiting a role that exists solely to facilitate the whims of the office he was second to, and acting nothing more than a figurehead to lay out one¡¯s grievances, perhaps tricking a few lesser adjacent realmers into believing progress was in fact made due to his title and that alone. But it quickly became clear to me that the man was nothing more than a Chancellor to a Duke, or a Prime Minister to a King. The title was there, but the authority was not. Still, I spent those two hours committed. Like a hawk having sunken its talons into its prey, I did not relent. Until finally, the man was freed from his duties by yet another of the faculty, the red-robed Belnor interrupted our conversation, prying the man from my talons and into the waiting embrace of some meaningless meeting. We ended up outside the professor¡¯s office with what felt like progress made, but that I knew was little progress at all. ¡°He¡­ was far more forthcoming than I¡¯d initially assumed would be possible Thacea.¡± Thalmin spoke, as I put up a privacy screen whilst staring blankly at the town below. ¡°You did exceptional work with-¡± ¡°Four hours and not one step closer towards our goal, Thalmin.¡± I muttered out in defeat. ¡°The man¡¯s nothing more than a seat warmer atop a throne.¡± ¡°Surely four hours with an assistant dean is enough to warrant some manner of faculty response?¡± ¡°Potentially, possibly. I could sense some personal agenda there, but considering the man¡¯s fortitude, I doubt he will actually act on it.¡± ¡°So what now?¡± ¡°We need to pursue other avenues of discourse, perhaps narrow down the whereabouts of Apprentice Larial. Emma did mention that she holds a life debt to her, did she not? We may be able to utilize that as adjacent benefactors of Emma¡¯s debts owing to her absence.¡± I managed out, garnering a look of introspective thought from the likes of Thalmin. ¡°We¡¯d be running around the castle trying to track down one individual then.¡± ¡°Considering the alternative, which is sitting around for fate to hand us our peer, I do not see an issue with this.¡± Thalmin took a few moments to consider those words carefully, before pressing on. ¡°We were able to evade detection to see the Earthrealmer¡¯s arrival were we not?¡± ¡°Yes, that was decidedly a rather brash decision on your part and a challenge that you likewise imposed upon the Vunerian, but I was genuinely surprised we were able to get as far as we did then.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s do that again, except this time, we¡¯ll peer into as many areas of the castle as we can.¡± ¡°Are you certain that¡¯s wise?¡± ¡°Wise? Perhaps not. But is it a necessary step in ascertaining the whereabouts of our friend? Absolutely.¡± With two plans in motion, with a similar trajectory, it was clear we had a path ahead for the rest of the day. ¡°So we both have our own assignments for the day?¡± Thalmin nodded, maintaining that ever confident grin of his all the while. ¡°We meet for dinner in the grand hall, then we continue our efforts through the night.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 1945 Hours. 19 Hours and 45 Minutes After Emma¡¯s Disappearance Thalmin Exhaustion threatened to give away my afternoon¡¯s antics. I was thankful then, that my training in the proving grounds made it so that the masking of such obvious signs of physical strain was very much second nature. Though that was nothing to say of the mental exhaustion that had begun taking its toll. Arriving at our table, and seeing Thacea¡¯s visage still piercing and determined, her eyes squarely focused on the professor¡¯s table once more¡­ it was clear none of us were getting any closer to our goal. The weight of the pressures started growing increasingly unbearable with each and every passing hour. Though from the outside, I doubted anyone could¡¯ve told that was the case, given the facades we held in the midst of a hundred other facades. ¡°Any progress?¡± I muttered out after deploying a privacy screen. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ll keep searching until curfew hits.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the plan, Thalmin.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0300 Hours. 27 Hours After Emma¡¯s Disappearance Thacea An entire day. It had been an entire day and a good part of a night that Emma had gone missing. We¡¯d tried everything we were capable of, from physical scouting to magical surveys, Thalmin and I did everything we could think of. Yet there was no sign of the earthrealmer. Exhaustion threatened to take me, but fear and anxiety were powerful wards against the ever encroaching specter of fatigue. ¡°We will resume the search in the morning, Thacea.¡± Thalmin spoke, approaching me as he did the night prior, gilded robes and all. ¡°I can only hope that this sunrise will be shared between all of us.¡± I replied without much in the way of emotive effect, as my eyes remained fixated on the only point of interest this late into the night. No sooner did I say that, did my benign point of fixation suddenly change. It was bizarre, almost imperceptible to most in the day save for avinors gifted with sharp sight, but in the dead of night¡­ This sudden display of brilliant light was obvious to even those who lacked the sight of an avinor or lupinor. ¡°Thalmin, did you see that? From the town?¡± The lupinor hadn¡¯t yet found the words, before an earth-shaking rumble suddenly made its presence known through the epochs-old stones of the castle. This was subsequently followed by a sizable rumble, audible throughout the previously dead and silent air. None of us spoke, not a single one of us dared to vocalize anything at all as we eventually saw evidence that would prove that neither of us were suffering from exhaustion-derived delusions¡­ as smoke and wisps of vibrant light began billowing out slowly from the far side of the town.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0340 Hours. 27 Hours and 40 Minutes After Emma¡¯s Disappearance Thacea Neither of us moved from the spot, even as we heard the tell-tale signs of a crowd forming at the far end of the hall, more than likely concentrating near the small lounge that nobody to this point had bothered to occupy. Unbridled fear permeated the both of us, as rich, turbulent streams of mana emanated from the source of the explosion, followed by the appearance of a beast that had only appeared a handful of times in tomes back home. We were glued to the glass, our eyes witnessing what our minds could not process, before finally, we heard the sudden thwack of the front door slamming open. There, with light from the halls casting a wide shadow of the figure occupying its frame, was the armored earthrealmer. We looked at each other from across the wide gap that was the room. Neither of us moved, neither of us spoke, but as the door behind the human slammed shut, so too did the world suddenly feel as if it¡¯d caved in on itself. It was there that my talons began to move on their own, as I walked forward, wordlessly, towards the armored human who remained as still as the statues that flanked the grand halls. There, I found myself staring up into the human¡¯s eyes through her opaque lenses. I couldn''t say anything, words refused to come to neither mind nor beak as my breath hitched up higher and higher, until finally, I felt that strangely textured glove on my back, and the weight of an entire world lifted off my shoulders along with it. ¡°Knights don¡¯t break their word, right?¡± I heard the strangely textured voice that was distinctly Emma come through, and with it, a warmth that threatened to swallow me whole. Chapter 42: Explosive Repercussions Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Hallway. Local Time: 0325 Hours. Seconds after being teleported back to the Academy. Emma Booker [ALERT: TELEMETRY RESTORED] [RECALIBRATING SYSTEMS, STANDBY.] [PARSING CONFLICTING DATASETS, STANDBY.] [ALERT: CRITICAL MISSION EQUIPMENT LOSS DETECTED¡­ [1] EXO-REALITY COMMUNICATIONS SUITE (ECS)] ¡°Requesting Operator Status: Please confirm loss of critical mission equipment.¡± ¡°Confirmed.¡± [Notice: Please file Critical Mission Equipment Loss Report Form EF-102.] ¡°Requesting Operator Status: What are your orders on proceeding following loss of mission-critical equipment?¡± ¡°...Delay and defer. Just give me a minute here, EVI.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Setting reminder(s) for 1 Hour.¡± ¡°Thanks¡­ I¡¯ll think of something.¡± Peace was a fragile thing. Like a piece of fine china or a statue made up of porcelain, it was beautiful and faultless, so long as it remained untampered and untouched. So when the cracks start to show, or when a slight bump causes a small chip in the lacquer, it was easy to tell that something was off; that something had fundamentally changed. Though what exactly constituted a crack, chip or nick was difficult to gauge when you were dealing with an interdimensional feudal empire of magic and sorcery. Context and scale was key here, and whether or not the sudden destruction of an entire building in an idyllic town right next to one of the hearts of Nexian Academia constituted a crack in that facade of peace was anyone¡¯s guess. Personally though? I couldn¡¯t see it as anything but a complete shattering of the porcelain facade that was Nexian peace. But then again, it was probably my bias talking. It was difficult to really analyze the situation objectively with just barely half an hour separating me from the incident after all. That, and the dull aching of my right arm, and the distant ringing in both of my ears, still tied me to the reality of what had just happened. A reality that the students flocking to the window had only the faintest of ideas of. I didn¡¯t know what brought me to the window, The Solarium Common Room as the EVI was quick to remind me as soon as it¡¯d regained its bearings, because the most logical thing to do at that point would¡¯ve been to cut all of my losses to debrief and reassess back at basecamp, i.e. the dorms. In fact, the massive common room should¡¯ve been the last place I wanted to be, what with the growing crowd of students in varying states of dress all huddled together near the floor to ceiling window. But I couldn¡¯t help it. I couldn¡¯t help but to witness everything from this perspective, this angle. Because it just felt so surreal. I didn¡¯t know how much of it was my own adrenaline-fueled high, and I didn¡¯t know how much of it was just the sheer whiplash of that teleport back to the Academy, but it felt like with each tentative step forward, I was losing more and more of my focus. It felt like I was on auto-pilot, like I was seeing everything from this weird third-person vantage point. None of it felt real, and all of it just felt so¡­ distant. For the briefest of moments, I felt like I was floating, my consciousness detached from everything around me; unable to really process anything. Everything was just a blur. With all of the noise, all of the murmurs, all of the whispers, all of them just blending together into an incoherent mess; like I was listening to the muffled sounds of a crowd from a room and a half away. I felt my breath hitching up, only to be reminded of my breathing exercises by the EVI, which helped, but not by a lot. It was at least enough to keep me grounded without stepping into hyperventilation territory, and it was at least enough to keep my focus squarely on what I was here to see. The town, or more specifically, a part of the town that should not have been this bright this late into the night. A part of town that had always been sleepier, and barely lit up compared to the rest of the medieval urban sprawl. A part of town that had no business lighting up the surrounding area like a poorly placed leis-com development smack-dab in the center of some middle-america heritage town. A part of town that was the source of that plume of pitch black smoke that rose up lazily against a rapidly approaching dawn. ¡°-was anyone awake when it all started?¡± I finally heard a voice piercing through the sea of miasma that had been my mental fog, a voice that was loud, commanding, and imposing enough that it not only penetrated through the mumbling crowd, but caused it to practically die down in the process. The speaker¡¯s identity was promptly identified for me, as the EVI highlighted his form from the shapeless crowd, and superimposed his name and identifier next to the transcribed speech. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A10 QIV RATOM - BARALON REALM [NEUTRAL] But in typical Nexian fashion, instead of a straightforward answer or something even remotely constructive, there was always someone ready to redirect the conversation towards some petty exchange. ¡°As much as I must applaud your barely-disguised opportunistic zeal, there are far less blatant means of ascertaining the sleeping habits of our fellow floor-compatriots, Lord Qiv Ratom.¡± Another voice from the crowd emerged to directly challenge the lizard man, a voice that belonged to another student that the EVI had logged during orientation day, but that I¡¯d already dislodged from memory. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A43 AURIS PING - PRONARTHIA REALM [NEUTRAL] If there ever was proof that physical size doesn¡¯t translate to how much space someone takes up in your brain, then it¡¯d be them. Because I don¡¯t even know how I managed to forget this hulking mass of an anthropomorphized bull, horns and all. A small clearing had formed in the crowd now, with a completely empty tract of space opening between the lizard and the bull, allowing them unimpeded line of sight. ¡°And what, pray tell, might I do with such worthless information?¡± Qiv responded indignantly. ¡°It was not I who initiated this question with blatant disregard for its ramifications, Lord Qiv. That is a question that only you will be able to answer. I will by no means draw up excuses for some trivial plot-¡± ¡°Ahem.¡± A voice finally pierced through the sudden bout of bickering, a soft voice belonging to yet another faceless student, that despite being barely audible against the growing argument was somehow capable of stopping it in its tracks. ¡°I was awake, and I believe I saw, felt, and heard the explosion¡­ before I sensed any disturbances in the manastreams.¡± ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A72 ETHOLIN ESILA - RONTALIS REALM [NEUTRAL] This answer, for whatever reason, elicited a series of shocked gasps, followed by hushed whispers. ¡°Seeing and hearing before sensing a mana-field disturbance? What a joke.¡± ¡°Oh please, stirring up melodrama for the sake of a brief flicker of attention is not wise you know.¡± ¡°Hah! Refrain with the accusations to the content of this one¡¯s character my friend, it is just as likely he speaks the truth¡­ which would indicate that his realm has sent the Academy yet another of below-average stock.¡± ¡°Below average is one way of putting it, there exists no possible reality where one senses the physical repercussions of mana, without first sensing a disturbance in the manafields. Only half-blind peasants would be so capable of such incompetence.¡± The hot-takes were destined to go on and on, if it wasn¡¯t for the newly emboldened confidence of the one who started this whole conversation in the first place. ¡°You too, Etholin?¡± Qiv suddenly proclaimed, once more silencing the crowd, eliciting only a sheepish nod from the smaller, ferret-like student. ¡°Yes Lord Qiv, I swear it on my family honor. This was an event unlike any I¡¯ve experienced. This¡­ felt like a devastating release of physical energy, without the requisite of mana.¡± The whole room suddenly erupted in a series of difficult-to-make-out noises, all of which were promptly analyzed and displayed in a neat little row of text courtesy of the EVI. All of which however, seemed to all point to one general consensus amongst the group: shock and disbelief. ¡°Impossible.¡± ¡°The boy is delusional, perhaps he should be sent to the infirmary!¡± ¡°An explosion of such immensity can only be derived from the intentional manipulation of mana!¡± ¡°Lord Qiv, why waste your time on a second-rate merchant lord?¡± ¡°Please do not humor this one, Lord Qiv, it is clear he only wishes for your attention and will speak of anything to attain it.¡± This continued for a few more minutes, until finally, Qiv once more broke the unintelligible murmurs with a loud, imposing voice. ¡°Then why are all of you here?¡± Qiv proclaimed, causing the crowd to once more go silent. ¡°You could¡¯ve simply watched on in the comfort and privacy of your own rooms, yet clearly, all of you have decided against this. So pray tell, why are all of you present here, together? Is it to collectively gawk at the destruction of some commoners? To point and stare at a matter entirely beneath our stations? Or is it because all of you present likewise felt this aberrancy? An aberrance that I know none of you dares to be the one to openly acknowledge first, because not a single one of you has the spine to do it.¡± He glared accusingly at the crowd, before unsurprisingly shifting the focus back towards himself. ¡°You need someone of stronger will and braver character to take that first step. Just as I was the first to brave the ceremony of scholarly rights, so too am I the first to bravely initiate this line of conversation.¡± The man placed both of his hands on his hips, standing in what I could only describe as a victorious pose befitting of a third rate superhero. This, surprisingly, was enough to get more than a few of the students to nod and murmur in agreement. Tentative statements of acknowledgement began to follow suit. ¡°On second thought, perhaps I did feel something strange.¡± ¡°I had initially assumed it was simply an oversight. You see, I was deep in my own intellectual pursuits, so much so that I perhaps had purposely shut off my mana-field sight for the purposes of concentration. It would seem as if this might not be the case after all.¡± ¡°Ahh, likewise, likewise! I too was deep in scholarly pursuits! Preparing myself for the semester ahead with some preemptive reading. I didn¡¯t wish to believe I¡¯d experienced the physical effects of an explosion without first sensing its mana-field disruptions.¡± Clap. Clap. Clap. A series of slow, purposeful, dismissive claps stopped the train of acknowledgement in its tracks, pulling the wind right out of Qiv¡¯s sails. ¡°Very well spoken, Lord Qiv. You have somehow managed to duck and weave unreality into reality, manipulating the narrative as a rallying cry.¡± The man soon turned to the group, causing a few smaller students to step away in fear. ¡°A rallying cry for fools at best¡­¡± He paused, staring each and every student in the eye, before zeroing in on Etholin and the small group of students that had come to Qiv¡¯s side of the argument. ¡°... and outright heretics at worst. You may have taken the initiative at the ceremony of scholarly rights, but it is clear that you have misconstrued bravery with brainless foolishness.¡± The bull quickly turned to the crowd once more. ¡°So-called bravery of this sort, is more akin to reckless abandon, than worthy gallantry.¡± A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. The wide, open gap between the somehow still well-dressed Qiv, and the absolute behemoth that was Auris had only widened at the conclusion of that jab. I could feel all eyes in the room focusing on them instead of me weirdly enough, and for a moment I almost forgot my own circumstances, feeling as if I was somehow propelled into some magical school drama. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 950% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS All of that quickly changed however upon the sudden surge of mana-radiation. One that beckoned the whole student body to once more turn their attention towards the windows, just in time to witness a shiny, shimmering ball of light rising up from the billowing plumes of smoke below. A glistening source of light, in the shape of a crystal dragon. The winged beast practically radiated light, illuminating the town below in irregular splotches and patches of multicolored light, most of which were tinted in shades of purple, pink, and lavender. Yet there was no cry, no roar, only what I could describe as a gentle, almost imperceptible sound that resembled the clinking of glass. The whole room went silent, all of the petty drama completely sublimated away in an instant, as only the distant sound of windchimes echoed. The dragon seemed to pause above the massive lake separating the town below from the Academy above. It hovered there for a few tentative seconds, rearing its head, then its whole body towards the Academy, and towards us in particular. This stare intensified, as if it was trying to find something or perhaps someone. But just as quickly as it¡¯d initiated that staredown, so too did it abruptly leave. With only a few powerful flaps of its wings, it began ascending, flying up and out of sight, rising above the clouds leaving only a contrail of brilliant light in its wake. Light, which seemed to crystallize into what I could only describe as sparkling snow, but a brief zoom of my suit¡¯s optics soon proved to be otherwise; as each and every shard that sparkled was a small chunk of crystal. The whole room erupted in a completely new topic of discussion, their petty arguments suddenly forgotten, as the new focus was squarely on the dragon. It was at that point, as the group began once more descending into a series of hushed mumbles, and as the lizard and the bull seemed to back away from one another¡¯s throats, that I finally took my leave. As I slowly, and very carefully, backed off from the crowd and back towards the hallway which led to my dorm. Thankfully, I didn¡¯t have to walk far. The blue-robed Vanavan was considerate enough to drop me off in front of my dorm after all. This little detour down the hall was just made a little longer because of my unpowered legs though, and with each strained step forward, I felt exhaustion quickly catching up with me.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0340 Hours. Emma Booker This all changed as soon as I opened that door, back into a space that I was starting to really call home base. It was then, as soon as I saw the two familiar figures standing across the room from me, that I suddenly felt a sharp, focused gaze meeting my own. An unhealthy mixture of exhaustion and pain all seemed to vanish, as did the thoughts and concerns still swirling about in a brain riding high off of equal parts adrenaline and panic. I struggled to bridge the gap, but it was clear I didn¡¯t need to, as Thacea approached with a series of slow, purposeful clacks of hard talon on exposed stones, before finally, she was barely a foot away from me. I didn¡¯t know why I did what I did next, but it came about so suddenly that I didn¡¯t even question it. What happened next just felt so natural, like it was second-nature to just do, as I reached out a single gloved hand and placed it on the princess¡¯ back as softly as I could. I could feel her whole body shaking at that, as a looming, anxious part of me quietly questioned the appropriateness of my actions. That anxiousness was short lived however, because as soon as I felt that initial wave of sharp shallow breathing transforming into slower, deeper, calmer breaths, I knew that I¡¯d made the right call. And just as naturally as that physical gesture came to me, so too did a verbal response practically flow as if it was somehow rehearsed. ¡°Knights don¡¯t break their word, right?¡± I managed out, my mind instantly recalling the promise made an entire night ago, bringing a nerve wracking chapter of my life to a close with a cheesy one liner. Thacea continued looking at me with those piercing eyes. However, instead of the polite, distant, cold, and calculating gaze I¡¯d seen her wearing about half the time I was with her in public¡­ this gaze was different. In fact, as strange as it might sound, it suited her more than that forced facade. Even if she was the first and only bird person I¡¯d seen, even if I had no context on whatever constituted avinor beauty standards or what have you, there was a part of me that could just tell she was just prettier like this. More accurately, there was just that latent part of me that just felt like that was the undeniable truth. I slowly brought up my hand from her back, towards her shoulder, and stopped just shy of her lower neckline, eliciting what I could only describe as a series of slow slow coos. I could feel the avinor¡¯s muscles tensing for a moment, feeling her head wanting to crook down towards my hand, but purposefully stopping before she could even manage an inch of movement. We didn¡¯t say anything over those tentative few seconds, the whole world seemed to melt away in that time, as only relief colored my world instead of the strange post-battle high that had kept me going for the past half hour. ¡°Please¡­ don¡¯t ever do this again, Emma.¡± Thacea finally broke the silence with a sentence that was first broken up into a heartful tone of voice, before shifting to something more contained and reserved. ¡°Oh, sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to-¡± I slowly began pulling my hand away, to which Thacea responded with a confused series of blinks. ¡°-I mean, I¡¯m sorry, I just thought¡­¡± ¡°I am talking about your disappearance Emma.¡± Thacea quickly clarified, eliciting a small cough of nervousness on my end. ¡°So you¡¯re okay with-¡± ¡°It¡­ It is understandable if earthrealm customs rely on more¡­ physical means of conveying contextual nuances and undertones in conjunction with the spoken word. It wouldn¡¯t be appropriate of me if I simply supplanted your customs with an attempt to impose my own¡­¡± Thacea began trailing off, as we both looked away sheepishly around the same time, before locking eyes with each other near-effortlessly once more. ¡°With that being said, are you hurt, Emma?¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± I paused, taking a moment to glance up at my HUD and the small list of injuries that existed. A list that would¡¯ve looked more like a requisitions office receipt if it wasn¡¯t for the armor shrugging off most of the force of the explosion. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just a sore arm, some bruising, nothing too major.¡± ¡°Not too major?! You¡¯re limping, Emma!¡± I heard a familiar lupinor voice suddenly enter the fray, having taken position right next to Thacea. ¡°Stoicism is good and all, but you have to tell us if you¡¯re injured. Must have been quite a fight if the black-robed professor managed to inflict even minor damage through that suit. Mind you, if the firm grip of a lupinor hand was unable to cause you to even flinch, then whatever the black-robe did must have been¡­ quite extensive.¡± Thalmin quickly added. It didn¡¯t take long for me to realize what he was referencing, as the memory of the bewildered face of a wolf prince gripping my wrists to no avail was still relatively fresh in my mind. ¡°So, what exactly happened, Emma?¡± Thacea took a moment to glare indignantly at Thalmin, though the prince simply shrugged it off. I took a moment to consider how I could even summarize everything that happened. It would take a good while, but I started the only way I could, by pointing out the window and at the devastation in the town below. ¡°That happened.¡± I spoke in no uncertain terms, as I could tell the exact moment the whole situation finally dawned on the pair. ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a long story, so why don¡¯t we start where we left off.¡± ¡°Right then.¡± Thalmin nodded, as he glanced at my legs. ¡°Well we better get you seated. Come on now.¡± He moved towards my side, making an actual effort in forcing my arm around the crook of his neck, wrapping it around his shoulders. ¡°What are you doing?¡± ¡°Helping you hobble forward. If you¡¯re going to be this stubborn about an injury, let me be stubborn about being a fellow brother in arms, Emma.¡± Thalmin shot back with a friendly, toothy grin. ¡°Alright, thanks Thalmin.¡± I managed back with a tired smile, as the lupinor simply nodded, helping me as best he could towards the living room sofa.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0430 Hours. Emma Booker It took nearly an hour to explain everything to the pair. Most of it was straightforward, but some of it required more than a little elaborating upon. Thacea¡¯s reactions were nothing short of mortified all throughout. The clips I played from my interactions with Mal¡¯tory in his office definitely didn¡¯t help matters either, as it looked as if the avinor¡¯s soul was forcibly trying to leave her body with each passing clip that was played. The intensity of the situation grew with each and every clip, until finally, we reached the final showdown. Thalmin¡¯s reactions however, were much more mixed. As evidenced by how silent he was throughout all of it, allowing Thacea to dictate much of the flow of the questions, before finally, he had one final word to cap off the whole debriefing. ¡°That¡­ was nothing short of incredible.¡± He made an effort to pause, to slowly turn his gaze to face my own, though it was clear he wasn¡¯t as practiced as Thacea was, as he struggled to lock onto what was behind the opaque lenses. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm, you have single handedly managed to prove your point by allowing those fools to play their game, earning their just desserts. Through no inaction of your own, and with the full might of Nexian incompetence, you¡¯ve caused a world of pain to those that have purposefully wronged you.¡± The wolf began to cackle with glee. ¡°Oh how countless generations of adjacent realmers would have loved to witness this. I am more than honored to have actively been a part of this story, even though I wish I could¡¯ve played more of an active role in this epic.¡± ¡°Trust me, I¡¯m starting to get tired of playing the leading role here.¡± I managed out with a tired chuckle. It didn¡¯t take long for Thacea to shoot me a curveball of a question however, as she turned towards me with a look of genuine concern. ¡°So what now, Emma? With how you¡¯ve worded your circumstances prior, you made it seem as if your home would have wished for some form of semi-regular communiques. What happens after this point, now that this is a physical impossibility?¡± That reminder hit me like a sack of bricks. It was a far departure from the weird vibe of victory Thalmin had been showering me with prior. I didn¡¯t have to think long about it before I responded though, and what I said was the plain, unadulterated truth. ¡°Nothing good. Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s nothing good.¡± I began with a sigh. ¡°The plan was to message home as soon as I was able to, and there was a time limit placed on how long they¡¯d wait before eyebrows started being raised. I told you the previous night about how the ECS was supposed to work right? How, using the same logic as the tent, it¡¯s just a glorified mana pump working in reverse? And how that¡¯s supposed to fill up the crystal?¡± ¡°The minor shard of impart.¡± Thacea promptly corrected. ¡°Yes, that. Well, the number crunchers back at home estimated that this process, at the slowest possible rate of mana diffusion, should take about 4 weeks tops. Four weeks to get the crystal charged up enough to send a data package back home. So the cutoff point was set at 5 weeks, accounting for 1 potential week of calibrations after full charge-up.¡± Thacea paused, as if pondering that number carefully, anxiously, before nodding in either agreement or affirmation. ¡°Four weeks for a revitalization of a minor shard of impart is something I cannot comment on, since there is no precedent of such an occurrence happening in my realm. However, what I can say is that three to four weeks is approximately the same time it would take for the crystal matrices to realign, when the crystals are at an appropriate saturation of mana.¡± I cocked my head at that, my eyes squinting as I shot the EVI a question regarding the so-called crystal matrices. What I got was paper upon paper of bleeding edge research that seemed to confirm a similar phenomenon. ¡°So the recharge time isn¡¯t the only limiting factor in communication.¡± I muttered out, trying to wrap my head around this. ¡°It¡¯s these¡­¡± I tried squinting at the 20-word descriptor that I quickly gave up on, reaching a similar conclusion the scientists at home, and Thacea seemed to have somehow agreed upon. ¡°It¡¯s these crystal matrices that need to realign before they¡¯re able to shoot off an interdimensional signal?¡± ¡°Correct. Each time a crystal is used, the crystal matrices within deform, thus becoming inert. Natural realignment of the crystal matrices occurs in the presence of adequate mana, this phenomenon taking approximately three to four weeks to accomplish.¡± Thacea nodded. ¡°The Nexus claims this to be a natural result of the limitations of the system. I¡¯m certain Prince Thalmin can attest to the fact that whilst this may be true, this is also a means of ensuring a hard-limiter exists with regards to the frequency of communications that occur between the realms. With that being said, whether by coincidence or by intent, the timeframe imposed upon you is distressingly accurate, Emma.¡± The room suddenly descended into silence once again, as I attempted to find a solution to a problem that clearly didn¡¯t have one. That was, until something lit up in Thalmin¡¯s eyes, as he looked at the both of us with a renewed sense of hopeful glee. ¡°Princess, these minor shards of impart grow naturally in the Nexus, right?¡± Thacea seemed to immediately understand where the prince was getting at this as she quickly attempted to shoot down the idea. ¡°Yes, but you cannot simply grab any would-be minor shard of impart in the hopes of aligning its crystal matrices in such a way that it would somehow bind with a previously half-broken one.¡± A massive light bulb suddenly lit up in my mind, as I turned towards Thacea with a renewed sense of hope. ¡°Yes but¡­ what if you could?¡± Thacea turned towards me with a befuddled stare. ¡°Entertaining this thought, you would first have to obtain the complete and accurate breakdown of the fundamental building blocks of the crystal you wish to align it to-¡± ¡°I have them.¡± I interrupted with a confident grin. Thacea, unfazed, pressed on. ¡°Secondly, you would then need a minor shard of impart-¡± ¡°Which the Nexus has plenty of.¡± Thalmin interjected with a toothy grin of his own. ¡°Then third, and perhaps most impossible of all, you would need a highly skilled artificer to somehow, through some means, change the natural alignment of a raw shard of impart, to that of your intended alignment. Artificers who are more than likely locked away in the crownlands, with their allegiances completely bound to the crown, their lives soulbound or oathbound making them incapable of agreeing to any clandestine agreement.¡± This seemed to be a roadblock that I should¡¯ve expected. Though, with at least a rekindled hope that two out of three parts of this idea was within reach, I refused to yield. I maintained my gaze, with a look of hopeful desperation she couldn¡¯t possibly hope to have seen under the helmet. ¡°Is there any other way? Like, any at all?¡± The princess gave out a slow, sullen sigh, her head craning towards the massive windows and the town that had just stopped billowing out smoke. Seconds passed, then minutes, before finally, something dawned on the princess. Her eyes seemingly locked on to the trail of glittering shards of light left behind by the dragon; specks of light which remained suspended in the air. ¡°No, there is not. I cannot think of any other way to go about this.¡± Thacea began, before promptly shifting gears on the spot. ¡°But I know of another winged ally who just might.¡± [REMINDER: 1 Hour has elapsed.] [Alert: 1 Hour Deferral has elapsed.] ¡°Requesting Operator Status: What are your orders on proceeding following loss of mission-critical equipment?¡± The EVI¡¯s timing was impeccable this time around, as all I could do was to let out a brief grin of optimism, before responding not with words, but with a few deft movements of my fingers on my wrist-mounted datapad. ¡°Set a new primary objective: Rebuild the ECS and reestablish communications with the IAS before the cut-off point.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± Chapter 43: Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire My heart practically skipped a beat as I saw what was at first a far-fetched idea quickly evolve into a full-blown plan. Or, at least, the first inklings of a plan. Whether or not it would be successful was another matter entirely. Though that didn¡¯t take away from the excitement of actually seeing another hare-brained scheme coming together. The fact that there was now a way forward whereas before none existed, was cause enough for celebration. We could potentially find a way to rectify this whole situation. A way to possibly fix this mess and regain the ability to make contact with the IAS. A way to prevent things back on Earth from spiraling out of control, to prevent everyone back at home from jumping to conclusions before it was too late. Because the consequences for going beyond the five week cutoff point was something nobody wanted to deal with. The Director herself had made sure to drill that into me from the first week of my training. Practical concerns and the very real potential over a complete overhaul of standing policy for a recovery and response mission over a missing agent aside, the ramifications of a complete loss of contact went far beyond the UN¡¯s response plans. It also would have far reaching implications on the future of the IAS itself. The Director had, over the course of an entire year of slow gradual talks, made it clear what she was putting on the line with Pilot II. Indeed, after the failures of Pilot I, there was an immense level of scrutiny coming in from all parties landing squarely on the IAS and the director¡¯s head. From assembly committees, to military reviews, to even a top-to-bottom internal audit performed by an out-of-branch internal review board, the IAS was this close to being reshuffled and overhauled. I could still vividly remember the colorful language the Director had used to describe the fallout that would come from a failed mission. Or at least, a failure to report in before the cut-off point.
¡°Imagine you¡¯re on your last paycheck and you¡¯ve just put everything on Richard Madison in the first quarter of the Armstrong-Irving Hump during the 302nd Luna Grand Prix. Imagine doing this, whilst knowing full well what happened to Steven Wu and Harry Roy on the 300th and 301st respectively.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± ¡°Not a space racing fan?¡± ¡°Not particularly, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Shame. I¡¯ll avoid long winded metaphors and get straight to the point then. You remember our talks with Field Captain McCay at the Waterfront, correct?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And you know the current pressures being put on the IAS following the incident with Pilot I and what became of your predecessor?¡± ¡°As far as has been disclosed to me, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Well, I will be frank with you Emma. I believe you¡¯ve earned this trust given what you¡¯re putting on the line. Let¡¯s just say that the past two decades have been spent with the explicit purpose of rectifying our shortsightedness on Pilot I. Meaning the IAS as we currently know it, including all of my plans following this mission, all ties back to the success of Pilot II. This includes our potential partnership with the LREF.¡± ¡­ ¡°No pressures, right ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°Well, I was trying to ease into this using the space racing metaphor.¡± ¡°Speaking of, maybe we should finish that thought. Whatever happened to Richard Madison during the Luna Grand Prix, ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°He was losing, until the very last second where he managed a gravity sling maneuver at the risk of his own life. He made it, just barely, with the ship holding together by its literal outer plating. He beat the first hump by 5 seconds.¡± ¡°Well, I hope Pilot II won¡¯t come to that ma¡¯am. As long as the lab techs have done their work, I¡¯m confident I can make sure I don¡¯t pull a Richard Madison.¡± ¡°I¡¯m counting on you, and will hold you to that promise, Cadet Booker.¡±
Everything was now riding on Pilot II actually succeeding. Everything all the way from jobs to the insanely intricate web of plans the Director had for the IAS moving forward. Every last bit of it relied on getting a signal out. But it was easy to get lost in my own sauce when it came to the implications of being unable to get a message back out to Earth. This wasn¡¯t just about the issues back at home now. Because if my time in the Nexus so far has taught me anything, it¡¯s that the consequences of me not getting in touch wasn¡¯t just limited to the future of a single agency, or heck, even the entire United Nations Science Advisory. No. There was far more on the line now if I wasn¡¯t able to get in contact with home. The intel I¡¯d gathered, the things I¡¯d learned, had just elevated the stakes from just departmental drama to national security. Heck, it might even go beyond national security, even dipping its toes into a complete and utter existential crisis. I needed to get this data out. And thankfully, despite the obvious setbacks, we at least had a clear path forward. Starting with the library. ¡°A winged ally.¡± Thalmin repeated with an indignant huff. ¡°You¡¯re talking about that trickster spirit wearing the skin of a benign beast, aren¡¯t you? That self-described librarian. You¡¯re suggesting we return to that accursed place, to trade ancestors¡¯ knows what for an answer to this new challenge facing our comrade?¡± The lupinor prince gestured harshly in my general direction, extending the full length of his arm out for added effect. ¡°Correct, Thalmin. The library is the only neutral party removed from our rapidly complicating circumstances. Moreover, it is the only party that I am more than certain possesses at least something akin to the knowledge we seek.¡± Thacea concluded simply, standing her ground despite the lupinor prince¡¯s best efforts at dissuading her. ¡°This over-reliance on the library will see us faster become slaves to its enigmatic machinations, than us gaining any true, meaningful enlightenment.¡± Thalmin growled. ¡°The library is a tool, Thalmin. Like any tool, reliance or lack thereof is a tradeoff that is highly dependent on the contexts and circumstances surrounding its user.¡± Thacea promptly snapped back, holding her ground without even so much as flinching to the lupinor¡¯s arguments. ¡°In most cases, I may be inclined to see eye to eye with you on this matter. However, the situation we find ourselves in places the library as a uniquely beneficial choice in our rapidly depleting arsenal of potential options.¡± The avinor paused, if only to allow Thalmin a chance to provide a counter to that argument. The lupinor, however, simply shrugged, before nodding for Thacea to continue. ¡°We find ourselves once again faced with a dilemma with no apparent solution. A quest with which there exists no true contemporaries to seek guidance or wisdom from. We are, by every practical measure, alone in this novel and unprecedented venture; to construct for ourselves a line of communication outside of the Status Communicatia.¡± Thacea let out an exhausted breath, part of it emerging as a harmonic trill which resonated sharply throughout the empty room. ¡°But princess, we technically do have contemporaries.¡± Thalmin shot back, raising both of his hands up in a sort of a gotcha! gesture. ¡°The counter to the Status Communicatia, during the rebellion? The legendary system that spat in the face of the Nexus? The innovative means by which the rebelling adjacent realms managed to circumvent the Nexus¡¯ communications monopoly-¡± ¡°Yes, the legendary system with which we do not even possess a name for.¡± Thacea interjected with a sharp, decisive, chirp. ¡°A legendary success that suffered the same fate as every other success claimed by the rebellion: death by omission. It, like the names and faces of those who fell in the name of rebellion, were all but stricken from history without necessitating the stroke of a quill.¡± ¡°Historical revisionism.¡± I stated flatly, my eyes once more meeting the avinor¡¯s. ¡°Revisionism implies that another form of history was written or codified prior to the present narrative, Emma. The Nexus simply did not allow such a thing to happen. Death by omission, is thus a fate far worse than any revision of history, for there was no one present after the war to challenge the established narrative, and thus, no one and nothing to revise.¡± Thacea responded promptly, before she quickly turned her sights back to Thalmin, finishing her argument. ¡°Suffice it to say, this is why I do not consider this legendary alternative system to the Status Communicatia to be a contemporary to our aims. For all that remains of it are wisps and echoes; intangible and irrelevant to our current aims of recreating Earthrealm¡¯s novel communications apparatus. Simply put: all that exists of it is the concept of its existence. It simply isn¡¯t useful in our current aims.¡± ¡°Which is why my vote is for the library. There¡¯s really no other option.¡± I managed out with a tired sigh, deciding to throw my two cents in before the conversation took a deeper dive into some highly specific back and forth. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, Thalmin. I get your personal reservations on the library, I really do. But we¡¯re kind of out of options here. And I really need to get this whole project started ASAP. There¡¯s no telling what we¡¯ll need, how long it might take to procure them, or even how we¡¯re going to procure them. It¡¯s better if we start now, rather than later.¡± The lupinor gave out a disgruntled growl at this, before finally acquiescing with a single shrug. ¡°Fine, but let it be known that I will keep my interactions with that den of deceit and hypocrisy to a minimum.¡± Thalmin paused, before turning his sights suddenly to the front door, then towards the small stack of papers that was stacked atop one of the tables in front of his bedroom¡¯s entrance. ¡°Though we may have to keep our visit to the library brief.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± ¡°I know a lot¡¯s happened over the past few days Emma, but that doesn¡¯t change the Academy¡¯s propensity in keeping to a schedule. We¡¯re still due for the House Choosing Ceremony tomorrow, and the window of grace for the school supply run into town starts from daybreak to nightfall today.¡± Thalmin made a point to look out the window, with the dark slowly, but surely, giving way to the first rays of dawn. ¡°Which by the looks of it, is fast approaching.¡± ¡°But, the explosion¡­ don¡¯t you think the Academy¡¯s going to change up the schedule because of it?¡± ¡°I¡¯m the last person to ask when it comes to what I think the Academy will do, Emma.¡± Thalmin retorted with a sly, gravelly chuckle. ¡°Because whilst my biases say that we¡¯re due for a truly unprecedented round of developments today, the logical and reasonable side of me says that the Academy will somehow find a way to spin this around to ensure it¡¯s business as usual. I mean, we¡¯ve already seen evidence of that from the encounter in the gardens did we not? The groundskeeper did quite a good job at simply sweeping everything under the rug there. Or, more accurately, sweeping the scars of battle beneath the turf and foliage.¡± ¡°I am inclined to agree with Thalmin¡¯s analysis, Emma. To that end, I have nothing to add.¡± The princess spoke quickly, and surprisingly capped it all off with a commitment to brevity. ¡°I think it¡¯s best we call this a night.¡± ¡°Good call, princess. Let¡¯s stop to lick our wounds before dawn properly comes.¡± ¡°That is a sentiment I wish to reinforce on you, Emma.¡± Thacea shifted her attention squarely on me, looking me up and down with equal parts worry and equal parts sternness. ¡°We will resume this in the morning.¡± With those final few, assertive words, we all got up. Thalmin once more rushed to my side as he, like the bro he was, once more positioned himself in such a way that allowed me to straddle him for some support. All was silent just before we reached my dorm however. At which point, the lupinor prince directed what seemed like a rather harmless question my way. ¡°So, considering this new quest¡¯s cutoff point is slated for 5 weeks away-¡± ¡°Well, 4 weeks and a handful of days, given how the timer started the moment the crate came through the portal.¡± I interrupted with a quick correction. ¡°Right, well, considering we have about a month. And considering the fact that we are no longer facing the imminent threat of an explosion or anything of the sort, this whole thing is bound to be a walk in the park right? I mean, the consequences of not being able to meet that deadline surely can¡¯t be any more severe than the explosion, correct?¡± I couldn¡¯t bring myself to respond to that line of thought. Not because I didn¡¯t want to burst Thalmin¡¯s bubble, but because I myself was running through the list of possibilities as to what going over that arbitrary line meant. ¡°Right?¡± He reiterated, this time with a nervous bout of laughter that shuttered just as abruptly as we arrived. I tried racking my head around for a proper response, which was enough time to clearly elicit some concerns from Thacea as she stopped just short of the door to face me. ¡°Emma¡­ what exactly are the consequences of you being unable to meet that deadline?¡± ¡°Well¡­ let¡¯s just say it¡¯s a lot more complicated than the bomb.¡± Thacea narrowed her eyes, before urging me with a single head nod to continue. ¡°First, there¡¯s the soft ramifications, or consequences you could say. A lot of people and organizations are banking on the success of my mission. That success is determined first by whether or not I¡¯m able to send a data package back home. If I¡¯m unable to then¡­ well¡­ let¡¯s just say there¡¯s going to be a lot of political reshuffling as a result.¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Thalmin¡¯s expressions shifted from one of growing concern, to a mild relief. ¡°Political reshuffling huh? I suppose that¡¯s certainly an improvement from the prior stakes of life and limb. So long as no blood is at stake, and no lives are lost, then the situation is a categorical improvement from our prior predicament.¡± ¡°Well, those are the soft consequences. The hard consequences¡­ well¡­ depending on who gets put in charge after the reshuffle, or how the different agencies, departments, and branches decide to proceed, we might be looking at an asset retrieval mission being put on the table.¡± ¡°And what would that entail?¡± ¡°It entails the temporary suspension of the limited interventionist policies set forth by the current administration at the institute I¡¯m assigned to, and its potential replacement by a more aggressive tit-for-tat interventionist policy spearheaded by the institute¡¯s security leaders; i.e. my actual chain of command. There¡¯s a whole complicated web of interdepartmental politicking going on between the civil service departments and agencies responsible for the civilian side of this endeavor, and the military which I¡¯m on loan from. This is not even getting into the assembly and their committee¡¯s grubby little hands. But regardless of the political outcome, I¡¯m more than certain that the active stance will change, at least enough to warrant an asset retrieval mission.¡± ¡°This all sounds¡­ needlessly complicated.¡± Thalmin suddenly spoke up. ¡°Now, I understand that your realm¡¯s governance was a matter of great contention for Professor Mal¡¯tory given what you showed via your memory shard, but I wouldn¡¯t have imagined it to involve this degree of what seems to be complexity and mobility. Because it genuinely sounds more like a house of cards where everyone is a player within their own small pockets of responsibility.¡± It was at that point that I realized I hadn¡¯t yet gone down the rabbit hole as to exactly what the UN was, how it functioned, or how it was so fundamentally different from the medieval-eseque politics of the Nexus and the adjacent realms. But before I could open my mouth to properly address that can of worms, Thacea was quick to nudge me back in the right direction, preventing a whole new tangent from forming. ¡°And just how would this asset retrieval mission work, Emma?¡± I took a deep breath, before letting it all out. Wasting no time in relaying an answer. ¡°The idea is to open up a portal to the exact coordinates and specifications to the one that got me here. Then¡­ the details are fuzzy, there¡¯s like a hundred different major contingencies to consider. But suffice it to say, it doesn¡¯t bode well for any hope of diplomacy, let¡¯s just put it at that.¡± Thacea¡¯s expressions darkened at the end of that answer, her gaze averting for just a second, before reconnecting back to my own. ¡°And how exactly do your people intend on opening the portal, Emma?¡± ¡°The same way we did the first time around?¡± ¡°Your people intend on simply opening a portal to the Nexus, without their consent?¡± ¡°I mean, yes-¡± ¡°Emma¡­ I was there the moment you arrived. I saw what the procedures actually were. Your people were barely able to break through your planar fabric and into this one. It was through the Academy¡¯s aid that you were able to finally establish a stable portal.¡± ¡°I mean, I¡¯m sure if they pump more power-¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just about sheer power or mana, Emma. It¡¯s about the spells and techniques required to sustain a stable portal.¡± My heart started to sink, as part of me realized where Thacea was going with this. ¡°There are a near infinite number of ways that opening up a portal could go wrong without the proper technique. And considering that there will be no aid this time around, the odds of a cataclysmic failure is all but guaranteed. But, even if you had the proper technique, there¡¯s still one crucial aspect that your people are overlooking.¡± Thacea paused, letting out a frustrated coo. ¡°Your realm is mana-less, correct?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve discussed the principles of mana before. Mana enters and invades spaces with less mana. That¡¯s why you have that armor.¡± She took a moment to poke at my armor. ¡°And that¡¯s why we have our mana-fields.¡± She then pointed at herself. ¡°What do you think happens when you open up an unrestricted portal from a place known for being the richest pool of mana in existence, connecting it to a completely mana-less space?¡± ¡°Ah, yeah, that¡¯s not a problem Thacea.¡± I responded with a cocky grin. ¡°The portal chamber is built to withstand the mana seeping through. We measured it all the way back from the first candidate¡¯s portal. Our facility is rated for that sort of thing.¡± Thacea¡¯s expressions however, showed that she wasn¡¯t convinced. Moreover, there was a clear sense of worry that was visible through those expressive eyes. ¡°Let me be clear when I ask this, Emma. Your structures, your facilities, they were built to withstand the amount of mana that came through during the opening of your, and your predecessor¡¯s portals, correct?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°And those were the only two major portals ever opened by your people?¡± ¡°Well, yes. The rest were either microscopic, enough to be a proof of concept but really nothing more, or barely large enough for very limited communication with the Nexus where they sent us those shards of impart and stuff.¡± ¡°Well then your people are woefully misinformed as to the true threats that await them if they do successfully open a portal of similar size, if only for a scant few seconds.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± ¡°I was there on the day you arrived. I saw, no, I even felt as the mana within the room was siphoned into your realm due to how mana-deficient it was. At first I didn''t fully understand what I was seeing or feeling, but now I do. Emma, the only reason why all of the professors were present, and why the red-robed professor brought out an entire cart full of mana vials was because they had to do everything in their power to artificially lessen the rate of mana-siphoning. Indeed, this was the same reason why they had warded the room a total of five times before you arrived.¡± Thacea took a deep breath, steadying herself, before continuing. ¡°They were doing everything in their power to prevent a cataclysmic mana-drain incident. If it wasn¡¯t for their preparations, then an insurmountable amount of mana would¡¯ve leaked into your realm, and been siphoned out of the Nexus¡¯.¡± I once more felt my heart plummeting towards my gut. Though at this point, having just gotten off the emotional rollercoaster that was the bomb, it just made me feel hollow. ¡°That means¡­ the readings that the IAS has are grossly inaccurate, and are far lower than what they should be.¡± I began with a hushed breath. ¡°The facility¡¯s shielding was built using mathematical models constructed with that erroneous data. That would mean all of our preparations would be woefully underprepared for the absolute inundation of mana radiation.¡± ¡°It depends on how long the portal is open for, Emma.¡± Thacea responded before my brain could come up with the grizzly scenarios befalling an unprepared IAS. ¡°I cannot provide an accurate estimate one way or the other. This may simply be limited to the destruction of a single room-¡± ¡°Or an entire facility melting.¡± I quickly added. ¡°Correct, but again, this is highly dependent on a multitude of factors we simply cannot account for at this point in time.¡± All three of us looked on at each other in complete silence as the ramifications of this new ¡®questline¡¯ was now out there in earnest. ¡°Right.¡± I finally broke the silence. ¡°Well, let¡¯s not focus on the what-ifs right now.¡± Before turning to Thacea. ¡°Thank you for that insight, Thacea. You might¡¯ve just saved more than a handful of lives with that vital piece of info.¡± I managed out with a confident smile. ¡°But we aren¡¯t yet sure you can warn-¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll find a way.¡± Thalmin interrupted, clearly sensing the vibe I was trying to give off. An admittedly, overly confident one, but one that I had hoped would be warranted by the end of these 4 weeks. Despite the helmet obstructing any and all semblance of physical cues, I still shot a smile to Thalmin all the same. But just as the scene was winding down, on the cusp of finally retiring for the night, fate decided it had just one more curveball to throw my way. SLAM! We all swung our heads toward the source of that sudden and abrupt noise. I raised up my pistol almost instinctively, before just as quickly holstering it upon seeing exactly who it was at the front door. The discount kobold had returned, and this time, he was huffing and puffing completely out of breath. Though unlike the first time he¡¯d mysteriously returned in the dead of night, there were no signs of a scuffle having occurred this time around. No burnt clothes, no peculiar orange fur on his tunic, or any bite marks on his cloak. We stared at each other for a few seconds, all four of us exchanging questioning glances, before the Vunerian decided to preemptively answer all of our collective questions. But not without a bit of stage play theatrics first and foremost. ¡°Oh! Oh tapestries above! You¡¯re back!¡± Ilunor began gesticulating wildly towards my general direction, before turning his gaze to face the other two. ¡°You may be wondering why it is I am returning to the dorms at this unsightly hour.¡± He took the words right out of our mouths, but not the disgruntled growls currently brewing within Thalmin¡¯s throat. ¡°Well, you see, like the two of you, I have been hard at work trying my best to determine the whereabouts of our newrealmer friend. In any case, it is quite fortunate you have found her.¡± The little thing continued, grasping both of his little paws together in a fit of overacting. ¡°With that being said, it is getting quite late. I won¡¯t tire our newrealmer with any acts of celebration, it is clear you two have already given her a well-deserved hero¡¯s welcome. I will thus take my leave-¡± ¡°Hold on just a second.¡± Thalmin growled back. ¡°Just how are you circumventing the curfews, huh? Where exactly were-¡± SLAM! Thalmin barely had any time to react as the little thing skittered from the entryway all the way to his apartment door in a matter of seconds. ¡°I¡¯ll wring the truth out of him if I need to¡­¡± Thalmin muttered out through a frustrated growl, before finally making his leave, entering the door and slamming it shut hard behind him. This left just me and Thacea, as we both turned to face each other with knowing glances, before entering our own room without so much as a word exchanged.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea¡¯s Bedroom. Local Time: 0450 Hours. Emma Booker ¡°Emma, are you sure you don¡¯t require any assistance?¡± Thacea inquired with a soft coo, hovering near me throughout my strained walk cycle as I made my way slowly towards the tent. ¡°I¡¯m fine Thacea. Really.¡± I managed out with a plucky, confident tone of voice, as I began going through the tetris-like pile of crates for the one that I sorely needed at this point. [ACCESS CRATE NO. 4 Y/N?] [Y] [AFFIRMATIVE. PLEASE CONNECT CRATE NO. 4 TO THE MREDD CARGO-AIRLOCK] This proved to be a really bad idea. With the lower half of my armor down for the count, it was taking literally everything in me to just push the thing across the floor. I was making about an inch of progress for every umf I gave it. ¡°For ancestor¡¯s sakes, Emma¡­¡± Thacea muttered out under a hushed frustrated sigh as she raised a single hand, targeting the crate I was desperately pushing with all my might. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 195% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The crate suddenly lifted off the ground, hovering in place as I nearly fell over from the sudden shift in weight. ¡°Hey! I said I was-¡± ¡°I will not apologize for that stunt.¡± Thacea interrupted firmly. ¡°You¡¯re hurt, and you know it. And yet you still attempt to project strength when you know you need help. Now, I¡¯m offering my help and there¡¯s no buts about it.¡± The avinor¡¯s tone of voice shifted firmly towards that more regal, more authoritative one, as I couldn¡¯t help but to let out a slight chuckle, followed up with a brief smile. ¡°Yes, your grace.¡± I responded under a cheeky breath. That seemed to strike something within the avinor as her pupils dilated almost immediately in response, and her free hand moved to cover the bottom half of her face, most notably her cheeks. ¡°I¡­ I assumed you didn¡¯t wish to use titles and that¡­ it¡¯s, I wasn¡¯t¡­¡± The princess steadied herself, before just as quickly regaining her composure. ¡°So, tell me, where would you like this box of yours, Emma?¡± ¡°Just over here.¡± I hobbled my way over near the airlock door. Pointing towards a compartment just underneath the food-rated MREDD, a partition that was clearly designed with the expressed intent of taking in these crates. [CRATE DETECTED NEAR MREDD CARGO-AIRLOCK. PROCEED WITH CARGO INTAKE PROCEDURES? Y/N] [Y] With barely any effort, the crate glided towards the compartment, before being aggressively latched by the tent, as a series of hisses filled the otherwise silent room. ¡°Your tent¡­ it unnerves me, Emma.¡± Thacea uttered out warily. ¡°The sounds it makes are otherworldly.¡± ¡°Heh, well, I do apologize for the inconveniences I bring to the table by being your roommate.¡± ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t mean any offense by that, Emma. I simply am trying to imply that, well¡­ you truly are just¡­ entirely novel.¡± The princess managed out through a fidgety series of chirps. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment then. Definitely beats boring, am I right?¡± A small silence descended over the both of us again, as the sudden whirring from the tent managed to break the tension, as it prompted Thacea to take the usual appropriate action. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 255% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°So¡­ I guess this is good night then?¡± I chuckled nervously. ¡°Oh, erm, yes. I do believe it is. Apologies, it¡¯s just-¡± ¡°Been a long day huh?¡± ¡°Yes, truly.¡± ¡°And¡­ Ilunor, what he said, is it true that you and Thalmin spent the entirety of the day looking for me?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I once more bridged the gap between us, placing a hand on the princess¡¯ shoulder. ¡°Thank you, Thacea. For everything. I just¡­ I¡¯m sorry for being such a bother it¡¯s-¡± ¡°You¡¯re no bother Emma. In fact, you¡¯ve been the opposite of that. We¡¯re part of the same peer group after all. And peers look out for one another. That¡¯s how we¡¯re going to survive the Academy, that¡¯s how we¡¯re going to survive the Nexus.¡± Thacea expressed with a confident glint in her eyes. ¡°Right. We¡¯re in this thing together.¡± I nodded affirmatively. ¡°Together, Emma.¡± With those final few words, I finally headed back to the tent, preparing myself for the decon, and the repairs to follow. Chapter 44: Attendance is Compulsory I woke up with a sudden gasp and a reflexive jerk. My whole body reeled back from another one of those microsleep-induced dreams, the ones where you slip and fall into the abyss, only to end up being propelled back to the waking world. I was too groggy to make heads or tails about where I was, but I didn¡¯t need to. Even though everything was weirdly hazy, the dread of a deadline and the fear of sleeping on another assignment was more than enough of a reminder to my current situation. I rubbed my eyes to find myself surrounded by the tasteful furnishings of the wood-accents and clean lines of a room dominated by mid-millenium aesthetics. It was another late night at the IAS¡¯ staff-only rec room, and I needed to get this assignment done stat. So with a tired breath, and another quick rub of my eyes, I went straight back into it. Reading what little I wrote in hopes of getting inspired to keep on writing. ¡°Human tenacity knows no boundaries, but-¡± ¡°-but this hasn¡¯t been without its price.¡± Another voice suddenly interrupted. ¡°Such as staying up all night in the rec-room for no good reason at 3am on a weekday.¡± A cocksure, playfully dismissive voice, belonging to one of the many instructors at the IAS on loan from the military. Except instead of the usual rank and file army officers, the man was LREF. That much was obvious though by the way he talked, walked, and carried himself. As everything about him screamed ¡®space explorer bad boy¡¯; this decade¡¯s stereotype for a branch of the military steeped in as much historical prestige as it was marred in gross overspending. The gold-trimmed blue cloaks they wore didn¡¯t really do much to deter from that latter stereotype. Though to be fair, gold hasn¡¯t had the same appeal ever since mega-foundaries started roaring to life en masse. ¡°Captain Li, sir!¡± ¡°At ease, at ease. Save the salutes and what-have-yous for Field Captain McCay. It¡¯s late anyways. You really shouldn¡¯t be up right now, overexertion¡¯s a heck of a thing y¡¯know?¡± ¡°Yes sir, but-¡± ¡°But what?¡± ¡°Permission to speak freely, sir?¡± ¡°Granted.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think my sleep deprived stints hold a candle to what the labs and fabs have been up to for the past two decades, sir. Everyone¡¯s been putting their all into this, and I don¡¯t want to be the weakest link.¡± ¡°Let me stop you right there. First, you¡¯re not the weakest link, alright?¡± He paused, placing a hand atop one of my shoulders, shaking it lightly. ¡°We¡¯re all working hard here, but there¡¯s a difference between pushing yourself out of necessity and pushing yourself to fit in, understand?¡± The Captain spoke reassuringly, his piercing eyes remained sharp throughout each and every word. ¡°Yes sir, I understand.¡± ¡°Good. Now, second? The past two decades were dominated by exceedingly exceptional circumstances. Using that as a benchmark for healthy work ethic is like using the rush to Alpha Centauri as a metric for sustainable extrasolar growth. Suffice it to say: you shouldn¡¯t.¡± The man punctuated his speech with a sigh, before finally concluding. ¡°You get me, Cadet?¡± ¡°I get you, sir.¡± I nodded affirmatively, garnering a satisfied expression from the man who continued on without skipping a beat. ¡°The labs and fabs, as you call them, had an arbitrary deadline to reach. Twenty years from the unfortunate fate of the first candidate, as requested by the powers on the other side¡­ or never at all. So they did everything they could to reach it. And like every other story of innovation in human history, they were cutting it pretty tight.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t blame them though, sir.¡± I added without a second of hesitation. ¡°Oh, I wasn¡¯t casting any judgment. If anything, I meant that as a compliment. I mean, discovering a whole new realm of material science? Then developing that into something tangible? Functional? Practical? In a fraction of the time it took to figure out warp-rated hulls?¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a miracle we¡¯re standing where we are now.¡± I managed out with a confident snicker. A wave of pride, admittedly not of my own, started to well up inside me all the same. It was the same sense of pride you had for being a part of something greater than yourself, something so unfathomably big that it manages to overcome if not completely transcend seemingly impossible odds. From permanent space habitats, to the smashing of the light barrier, and now¡­ the creation of an interdimensional portal. Humanity¡¯s story was always one of consistent insatiability, facilitated by that natural inclination towards teamwork, of different minds with a thousand different ideas managing to do what would be impossible for anyone working alone. Forever pushing the envelope, until there was nothing left to push, regardless of the risks involved. I was just happy to be a part of that never ending story. ¡°-fifteen years of theory. Four years of iterative design improvements and fabrication. And a whole year dedicated to fabricating just barely enough for the armor and tent.¡± The Captain continued on, as I realized I¡¯d just barely caught the tail end of that whole spiel. It was clear though, from his wide grin, that he was going through much of what my reverie had just covered. ¡°Speaking from an LREF perspective, a year from first-gen proof of concept to a functional manufactured design is incredible. Though, this is only possible because of the difference in scale of our two mission parameters.¡± That last part caused me to cock my head in curiosity. ¡°What do you mean, sir?¡± ¡°The wonder material the IAS came up with is horrendously unscalable. Its production is time-consuming by its very nature, and it''s so bizarrely novel that it¡¯s incompatible with any industrial process we have, like I said, it took an entire year to produce enough for your armor and tent. At that rate, it would take us a good century to even coat a corvette to the same extent as your armor.¡± "Well let¡¯s just thank the portal people for requesting a single candidate, and not an entire ship, sir.¡± I shot back cheekily. ¡°Besides, I doubt that even with the stockpiles we have of prior versions of the stuff, we¡¯d be able to coat even a quarter of a corvette.¡± The Captain cracked a short laugh, shaking his head at the thought. "That¡¯s certainly an idea alright. Imagine finding another point in space with enough latent Quintessence to tunnel up another portal for a ship to fly through. It¡¯s not like we haven¡¯t tried.¡± The man shrugged, before quickly correcting himself. ¡°As in, trying to find another location with latent Quintessence, not the ship thing. The ship thing is impossible. The only place with enough latent Quintessence is right here, weirdly enough. But, anyways, there¡¯s at least one good thing we¡¯re using the stockpiles of the previous iterations for.¡± ¡°You mean the portal room¡¯s shielding tiles?¡± ¡°Correct. Some say it¡¯s overkill, I say it isn¡¯t. But that doesn¡¯t detract from the fact that the thing¡¯s rated for just under three quarters of your armor¡¯s rated mana-resistance. When you combine this with the fact that the portal barely leaks out a fraction of a fraction of a percent of what you¡¯ll be dealing with on the other side, the powers that be¡­ most notably the assembly committees, seem alright with it. Speaking for the LREF though? Nothing¡¯s ever enough. But speaking in terms of evidence-based considerations? Yeah, I¡¯d say it¡¯s enough. That isn¡¯t stopping me from pushing for a motion for any mana-resistant material produced after this point, to be procured exclusively for the portal room though.¡± I took a deep breath, nodding as the Captain spoke, before steadying myself by shutting my eyes and reaching for the energy drink sat atop another stack of e-ink documents with a hundred variations of the word [CLASSIFIED] plastered all over them. However, instead of being met by the cold, comforting embrace of a 10-alloyed can of sweet carbonated caffeine, I was instead met with nothing. In fact, I suddenly felt constricted. My loose fitting nightwear was suddenly replaced by the skintight undersuit of my gear, and then enclosed within a thick, solid layer of unyielding composalite. I was back inside the power armor. Opening my eyes, I wasn¡¯t met by the mid-millenium chic of the IAS¡¯ recroom. I was instead floating in darkness. An oddly familiar darkness. Confusion consumed me. Followed closely by panic. But those two gut-twisting emotions had nothing on what came immediately after, as I began hearing it again. And it was just as otherworldly as when I last heard it. It started out exactly the same way. A constant stream of distant chimes, pulsating in intensity from a barely audible pin-drop, to a soft whisper at its peak. I instinctively reached for my ears, but found my hands unceremoniously slamming against the helmet again, unable to reach them as the incessant vibrations started tickling them, sending wave after wave of shivers down my spine. ¡°EVI!¡± I shouted. But there was no response. There was only the thrumming darkness growing ever and ever louder. ¡°EVI!!¡± BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! ¡°EVI!¡± I jolted up with a raspy shout, panting heavily as my eyes began darting around, my hand instinctively reaching yet again for my sidearm but finding it firmly trapped within a soft cocoon of canvas. I looked down in confusion, just to be reminded of the sleepsack I found myself snugly tucked into. A sleepsack that I just about managed to squeeze inside the tent right before the rays of the early morning started to bleed through the dorm¡¯s windows. MEDICAL ALERT: Detecting elevated Heart Rate, Blood Pressure, Respiratory Rate, and stress hormones; EEG patterns outside baseline standard. Patterns indicate [1] episode of variable-rate night terror. NOTE: This marks the second night terror logged. ¡°Noted, EVI, thank you.¡± I managed out with a sullen sigh, plonking myself back against the plasticky floor of the tent with a dull thud, cushioned by the padded canvas-like material of my sleeping bag. ¡°First the Null, and now our mysterious noisy Cthulian-wannabe inhabiting the space between spaces¡­¡± I paused, before slowly unzipping out of the cocoon of canvas, reaching lazily for my tablet. ¡°EVI.¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Set a reminder for me to bring up the mystery of this noisy entity between portals to either Thacea or the Library when we have the chance. You know? The one that we encountered after jumping after Mal¡¯tory through his portal? Set it for¡­ I don¡¯t know, a few days from now or something.¡± ¡°Affirmative, Cadet Booker. Reminder set.¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± I let out another sharp sigh, before getting up properly this time, rubbing the drool from the corners of my mouth with the backside of my forearm. ¡°Diagnostics?¡± I spoke lazily through a yawn, bracing myself against one one of the four work benches that had been set up so far, my eyes firmly fixating on the support frame that now held the armor aloft by its shoulders and hips. ¡°QSR: All suit systems nominal, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Are my repairs holding?¡± ¡°Affirmative, Cadet Booker. I¡¯ve run passive mechanical stress-tests whilst you were asleep. Repairs were completed within a 1.73% margin of error.¡± ¡°Good. Captain Li would be proud.¡± I let out a grin. ¡°The night terror episode barely lasted for a quarter of the dream, so I¡¯m going to call this one a win. Plus, at this rate, I¡¯ll be rid of them sooner rather than later.¡± I tried my best to reassure myself as I moved to stand in front of the armor, noting a few scratches on the paintjob. Superficial damage aside however, this avatar of technological exceptionalism was ready for round two. ¡°Alright then.¡± I continued, as I began climbing into its vacant back, entering legs-first. ¡°It¡¯s library time.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea¡¯s Bedroom. Local Time: 1040 Hours. Emma Booker A sharp hiss marked my return back into the world of magic and sorcery. This was followed by those first few tentative steps out of the tent as I paid extra close attention to the mechanical sensor readings currently superimposed into the upper right hand corner of my HUD. I began pushing the systems slowly, taking short, measured steps, followed by larger, and more awkward ones. All with the intent of completing the appropriate calibrations that weren¡¯t strictly necessary, but were part of the post-repair recalibration (PRR) protocols that were strongly recommended. Thacea, noticing this, cocked her head toward my general direction, having completely stopped any and all pretenses on finishing the spoonful of nuts and berries currently in her hand. ¡°Emma, are you certain you¡¯re quite alright?¡± She managed out quizzically, standing up with a degree of obvious concern as she regarded me with a look of abject confusion. ¡°You seem¡­ encumbered.¡± Part of me couldn¡¯t help but to feel just a bit embarrassed at having just graced the princess with her first taste of the world of interpretive dance. Another part of me however couldn¡¯t decide whether or not to just ignore the feeling entirely, given that the armor itself ruined any chance at really being socially ¡®acceptable¡¯ here. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine.¡± I finally managed out, once more finding myself attempting¡ª and yet again failing¡ª to rub the back of my head reflexively. ¡°It¡¯s part of the procedure in making sure that my repairs are working, is all.¡± I explained away simply, which was followed up by a tentative nod from the princess. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°A ritual of sorts.¡± She concluded with a tentative nod. ¡°Right then, I¡¯ve sent for breakfast so that we may-¡± The princess stopped herself in her tracks, before placing a hand over her beak. ¡°Apologies, Emma. Your¡­ dietary restrictions slipped my mind. I was, admittedly, a bit overeager to prepare for the day ahead by preemptively having a meal ready for the both of us. I-¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, Thacea.¡± I quickly interrupted the apologetic avian with a single tap on her shoulder, shooting her a smile despite knowing full well the obvious fact that a barrier of composalite and glass stood in the way between us. ¡°I appreciate the gesture all the same.¡± Thacea¡¯s eyes seemed transfixed on the hand, before shifting to meet my gaze once again as she nodded once in affirmation. ¡°I value your compassionate nature, Emma.¡± I slowly removed my hand at that, prompting Thacea to shift a bit in place, before craning her head towards the door. ¡°With that being said, I must apologize for being the lesser of compassionate spirits in this instance, by insisting that we cut straight through the clouds.¡± She pulled out that same pocket watch-like device from a few days earlier, its round golden surface glowing a dull green and yellow hue, displaying a series of alien symbols that the EVI could not translate. ¡°We have approximately an hour before noon, and from then, we have half a day left to complete the procurement of school supplies from the town in accordance with the window of grace the Academy has afforded us.¡± I nodded once. ¡°Then let¡¯s hit the library first. It should be a quick in-and-out.¡± ¡°Very well then.¡± Thacea nodded, pocketing her watch as the both of us left to regroup with Thalmin.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 1045 Hours. Emma Booker The lupinor prince was waiting for us right outside our door. Despite being of a completely different species, the frustrated features of a canine were definitely not lost on me, as those bared fangs and scrunched up nose did little to hide his current state of mind. Though, from the looks of things, I could tell this frustration certainly wasn¡¯t instigated by us as his features lightened up just a bit as we finally exchanged words. ¡°¡®Morning, Thalmin.¡± I chirped out. ¡°A bright morning to you, Emma.¡± Thalmin managed out with a forced smile, before shifting gears to a tentative sigh. ¡°Though I wish I could say that with wholeheartedness.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± ¡°This.¡± Thalmin moved towards his dorm¡¯s entrance, gripping the handle tight, before pushing it inwards with a forceful thud- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS -only to have it slam in his face just seconds after. This was accompanied by a slight but noticeable series of hisses from what I could only assume was the only other inhabitant of the room. ¡°This is what¡¯s wrong.¡± Thalmin continued with a resonant growl. ¡°The blue thing refuses to leave his room. And what¡¯s more, he refuses to even acknowledge the simple question of why.¡± Thacea¡¯s eyes narrowed, zeroing in on Thalmin¡¯s. ¡°Has he shown any signs of other peculiar behaviors?¡± ¡°Not necessarily, just the usual, with the addition of this unexpected development.¡± ¡°I see. This may become more of an issue in tomorrow¡¯s house choosing ceremony.¡± Thacea spoke with a high-pitched series of chirps. Each one more exasperated than the next. ¡°Regardless, that is a matter for the following day. If Lord Rularia insists on being unruly, then we must move forward without-¡± Thacea paused mid-sentence, or rather, her voice had completely trailed off as both her, and Thalmin¡¯s eyes were now completely trained on me. Walking past the pair, I positioned myself right in front of the door, before forcing it open with yet another loud SLAM. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS This was, expectedly, followed up by the door being forcibly closed by the Vunerian¡¯s magic, to which I had a simple counter¡­ A simple foot in the door. Warning: Minimum pain threshold on [RIGHT FOOT] has been exceeded, auto-disconnect of haptic feedback engaged. This forced the millenia-old wood to buckle and creak concerningly as the rest of the door above my foot began to bow and bend, yet was unable to overcome the space-age composalites comprising my boot. A series of sharp, threatening hisses soon followed, flooding the living room as the both Thacea and Thalmin began peering awkwardly in from behind me, their heads popping up on one of my rear-view live-feeds. ¡°Ilunor.¡± I managed out through a frustrated sigh. ¡°Come on out, buddy. Do you need to talk, or-¡± ¡°THIS IS MY PRIVATE DOMICILE AND I WILL NOT BE HARASSED!¡± ¡°Come on, you can tell us if there¡¯s something wrong. Thalmin here is worried-¡± ¡°I WILL SAY NOTHING MORE! IN THIS ROOM I SHALL RESIDE, AND IN THIS ROOM I SHALL REMAIN!¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± I responded with a half-hearted sigh. ¡°Okay buddy, we¡¯ll be back sometime later today okay? Just call room service if you need snacks or something. I¡¯m going to pull my foot away from the door now, alright?¡± With little acknowledgement aside from a sudden reduction in mana, I slowly pulled my foot away from the wedged door. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Before being met by a resounding SLAM once more. ¡°Right then.¡± I spoke with yet again another sigh, turning towards Thacea and Thalmin who had since regained their respective composure. ¡°It¡¯s library time.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to The Library. Local Time: 11:20 Hours. Emma Booker Once again, the trip to the library saw us exiting the main structure of the castle, through two unassuming double doors, and towards a large open promenade with little to nothing in the way of exterior decor compared to the many open-air outcroppings along the Academy proper. The howling winds hit all three of us first, followed by the loud roaring of the waterfall behind us logging in at the same deafening 91 decibels. The stark white tower soaring hundreds of stories overhead lay in front of us. The spindly single-lane bridge connecting it to the Academy stood in the same place as it always had. But unlike before, the bridge wasn¡¯t empty. In fact, it was packed. At least forty or so gargoyles occupied the single-lane bridge, remaining so still that anyone seeing the structure for the first time could¡¯ve easily mistaken them for part of some centuries-old blockade. Strangely though, the blockade seemed to occupy just the first half of the bridge, with the latter half being completely empty and devoid of any obstructions. What I could only describe as a guard post had been assembled at the entrance to the bridge, assembled out of cobblestone and timber, with an imposing roof that was¡­ as expected, host to four perching gargoyles. A small gaggle of four students were gathered around the guard post, their uniforms looked to be a bit more decorated than Thacea¡¯s, implying that they were probably second-years. ¡°You lot, halt!¡± A voice echoed from the guard post, as a taller, older elf emerged, quickly fastening a cloak to a uniform that was even more decorated than the others. The man was an apprentice. Once again, evidenced by the uniform that resembled Larial¡¯s. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 340% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A brief mana radiation warning was all that was needed for him to blip between the guard house and the door we¡¯d just entered through, as the taller elf squared off against the three of us with a purposeful whoosh of his cape. ¡°What are you miscreants doing about here then?¡± ¡°I mean¡­¡± I managed out slowly, much to Thacea¡¯s dismay as it was clear she had wanted to take charge of the talks. ¡°I think that much is obvious.¡± I gestured to the library in the far distance. ¡°We¡¯re headed to the library, sir. And honestly, I haven¡¯t heard of a learning institution of all places preemptively calling a bunch of library-goers and knowledge-seekers miscreants.¡± I shot back with a series of polite, yet snappy responses. ¡°Oh, ohoho. Is that how it is then?¡± The man responded with a cocky smirk. ¡°Just a jolly old perusal of this here compendium of all the knowledge of the realms that ever has been and that will be?¡± ¡°I mean¡­ yes?¡± I turned around purposefully, meeting both Thalmin and Thacea¡¯s expectant gazes. ¡°What else are we going to do at the library?¡± ¡°Hmmph, what else are we going to do at the library, they say.¡± The man scoffed back, before making a point to unfurl a ridiculously long scroll, and clearing his throat. ¡°By the order of His Academic Excellency, the Dean, and the powers bestowed upon him by the authority of the Nexus¡¯-¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 340% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The elf was interrupted by the teleporting arrival of a similarly dressed apprentice, who arrived simply to whisper into his ear, before disappearing almost just a quickly. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 340% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°Ah, very well then. Consider yourselves fortunate. For it shall not be I, but the Dean himself that shall be addressing this matter, and the matter which has become the talk of the town.¡± ¡°And what do you mean-¡± ¡°Shush, shush shush shush.¡± The man interrupted, reaching his index finger forward towards my vocoder which I immediately pulled away from. ¡°An emergency assembly has been called. Attendance is compulsory. Letters confirming as such have been dispatched to all dorms. Proceed to the Grand Assembly Hall, and be out of my hair. I have more important matters to attend to.¡± He shooed us off, before promptly blipping back into the guard house. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 340% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Whilst that interaction was¡­ weird at best, I couldn¡¯t help but to feel just a bit nervous about the sudden and unexpected turn of events, as the three of us reluctantly headed back inside. ¡°Well, Emma. It would seem as if there might be some merit to your theory of a potential shift in Academy scheduling after all.¡± Thalmin began with a nervous smile. ¡°So what now?¡± I asked, turning to face the pair. ¡°We attend the assembly. There is no other choice in the matter, Emma.¡± Thacea quickly added. ¡°I guess this means we¡¯re calling off library time for now¡­¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to The Grand Assembly Hall. Local Time: 11:45 Hours. Emma Booker There was no question about it. There would¡¯ve been no way we could¡¯ve made it to the Grand Assembly Hall in time if it wasn¡¯t for the horde of students that had inadvertently led the way there like a herd of sheep making their way to the slaughter. Okay maybe that¡¯s not the best metaphor to use here but I digress¡­ It was very much clear the announcement had reached the eyes and ears of everyone around the same time we were informed. Which means the library itself was blockaded before this whole announcement was made. Which made things even more confusing, but at the same time, made me all the more curious as to what could be going on. Or more accurately, what the faculty could be cooking up. Upon arriving at the Grand Assembly Hall however, we were met at the entrance by a parallel duo of rolands¡ª swords outstretched towards each other. At the bases of these knightly statues were decorated stretches of parchments bearing and receiving names of students that entered. We were shuffled into a queue like the rest of the students, quite a few of them giving me questioning glances, but most of them simply going about their way; clearly more focused on the assembly itself rather than my armored form. As we finally got to the front of the queue, we were once again reacquainted with a familiar face. Or, more accurately, with a familiar lack of a face. As the hooded and cloaked shadow-faced apprentice we¡¯d met from the Medical Wing now stood guard next to the statues. His two glowing orbs-for-eyes shifted to a more polite, amiable, and friendly half-lidded semi-circles that more resembled emojis than an actual face. ¡°Greetings Princess Thacea Dilani!¡± The man spoke with a courteous, polite bow. Actually taking the time to hold up the queue as he went all in on the Expectant Decorum game. ¡°I see fate has once more granted us the privilege of meeting. Now, what can I do for you today?¡± Thacea responded with a bow of her own, taking a good ten seconds to complete before meeting the man¡¯s ¡®gaze¡¯ as best she could; the polite, ¡®customer service¡¯ smile taking over her visage like a well rehearsed role she was born for. ¡°And a greetings to you as well Senior Apprentice, Appointed-Deputy Magistrate, Sir Ostoy. We are here for the compulsory assembly, at the behest of the Dean.¡± ¡°Oh please, Senior Apprentice Sir Arlan Ostoy will be sufficient.¡± The man shot back with a polite chuckle. ¡°And ah, yes, of course! What else could you be here for.¡± The vapid, directionless conversations threatened to rear back its ugly head if not for a tap on the shoulder from one of the other apprentices lining the doors to the Grand Assembly Hall, motioning their head to the cramped collection of annoyed students that were being held up behind us. ¡°Ah, yes, well, it seems like everything is in order here-...¡± The man trailed off, his eyes darting between Thacea, Thalmin, and myself, before pointing at an empty space right next to us. ¡°I must apologize for the inconvenience here, Princess Dilani. However my roster informs me that your peer group consists of a total of 4 persons. Is that correct?¡± ¡°That is correct, Senior Apprentice Sir Arlan Ostoy.¡± ¡°With that being the case¡­ where is your fourth peer?¡± ¡°He is currently in our residence, Senior Apprentice Sir Arlan Ostoy.¡± This back and forth ended with a shift in the apprentice¡¯s ¡®face¡¯, as his two glowing eyes narrowed to an impossibly thin line, before shifting to one of wary concern. ¡°His presence will be required, Princess Dilani. Without it, you may find there will be consequences for the entirety of your peer group.¡± He spoke in an uncharacteristically straightforward manner, cutting right to the chase as all three of us looked at each other with a renewed sense of concern. ¡°However, considering I have previously had the distinct pleasure of being acquainted with your peer group¡¯s star student-¡± He gave Thacea a polite, respectful nod. ¡°-I will allow two of you to enter. The third must take full responsibility in the retrieval of your fourth peer. Now¡­¡± The man paused, grabbing what seemed to be a time piece of his own, before pocketing it. ¡°You have just under an hour to accomplish this. Considering it takes fifteen minutes to return to your dorms and back again, I suggest you take flight immediately.¡± He nodded once, giving Thacea a brief ¡®wink¡¯ at that pitiful attempt at a pun. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll-¡± ¡°No, I volunteer.¡± Thalmin interjected with a resounding rumble in his throat. ¡°Thalmin, it¡¯s fine, I can run pretty quickly-¡± ¡°After everything? No. I will not allow myself to fall into further dishonor by having all of the burdens of this peer group falling upon your shoulders, Emma.¡± Thalmin spoke earnestly, and with a resounding sense of finality. ¡°I just¡­ alright.¡± I sighed. ¡°Alright then. I wish you the best of luck, Thalmin.¡± I concluded, before giving the wolf one more appreciative nod before he sped off, impressively and literally disappearing into the crowd of students. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 220% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS With Thalmin gone, the hooded apprentice quickly ushered us inside. Making our way in, Thacea promptly led me up higher and higher into the plush, opera theater-like seats. It certainly wasn¡¯t just your rank-and-file bleachers or your crammed-together stadium seats, that¡¯s for certain. ¡°Here, this is our peer group¡¯s assigned seating, Emma.¡± Thacea pointed out at a small enclosed row of seats, with no clearly defined signage or anything to indicate it was ours at all. ¡°Wait, this? How can you tell?¡± ¡°Ah, it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s this, Emma.¡± Thacea quickly waved over the side of the enclosed canopy, revealing the letters corresponding to our dorm room. ¡°It¡¯s a mana thing isn¡¯t it? I can¡¯t see it because I can¡¯t sense the mana-streams or whatever?¡± ¡°Correct, Emma.¡± Thacea nodded once in reply. ¡°Right.¡± I spoke with a mix of frustration but also nervousness as my eyes kept track of the time, and the countdown timer the EVI had once again conveniently placed at the top right hand corner of my HUD.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 12:10 Hours. Thalmin I arrived back at the dorms with a huff and a puff, though it wasn¡¯t so much the sprint that drained me, it was moreso the frustration at navigating through this labyrinth of a castle even with the manastreams attempting to guide the way forward. Slamming the door open without a moment¡¯s hesitation, I marched my way over to my room, and the source of all of my current grievances. I let out a breath, steadying myself, before bracing my right shoulder as I rammed my way in through the door; making sure not to give the Vunerian a single chance to properly fortify himself within. ¡°Ilunor!¡± I shouted, only to find that the room was¡­ empty. I looked around, glancing at every corner before slamming the door behind me shut, making sure the little thing couldn¡¯t skitter out from behind me. But as quickly as I did so, and upon trying my best to sense any other presence from within the mana-streams¡­ I was met with a resounding nothing. The lizard was gone. Chapter 45: Youve Just Activated My Trap Card! Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 12:15 Hours. Thalmin Dread, fear, panic, and anxiety¡­ all of these emotions threatened to rush to the surface with the unbridled ferocity of a berserker out of mana. Dread, for the sudden disappearance of a peer in all but name. Fear, for the consequences that will inevitably follow. Panic, for the abrupt disruption of a straightforward plan. Anxiety, for the potential of failure, and the ramifications of that failure on those around me; those that I have promised nothing short of a complete victory. A second was all it took for these thoughts and emotions to surface, and a second more was all that was needed for those very thoughts to take root. I couldn¡¯t give them that chance. It was just not the Havenbrockian way. The proving dens had taught me better than to succumb to the whims of the runt-born heart. It taught me the importance of controlling one¡¯s emotions, and the difference confidence and stoicism made between life and death. From the battlefield, to the banquet table, and the maprooms of the Great Hall; this rule had kept the Havenbrockian house afloat and slicing through the waves of challenges we faced. This situation was no different. In fact, if anything, it called for an adherence to the lessons of the proving dens; as I called upon feelings of anger and frustration to temper the encumbering emotions that threatened to plague me. Ultimately though, all this boiled down to one thing: I couldn¡¯t fail Thacea or Emma. Not when the issue at hand was barely an issue at all, if it wasn¡¯t for the Academy¡¯s vague threats of draconian punishment. Alright. I began taking a deep, growl-ridden breath. Action is the ward to indecision. So act. HUFFFFF HUFFFFF I took a deep breath, this time not out of frustration, but practicality. For I had one final card to play, a gift of the lupinor heritage that would take over from where my eyes and mana-perception had both failed. SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF I still had my keen sense of smell to rely on. The world around me practically lit up in a dizzying array of scents. This was where noble sensibilities born out of the Nexian reformations clashed with the intrinsic nature of Lupinor heritage. The Nexian Reformations claimed that the measure of one¡¯s civility was determined by the distance one placed between the animal and the person. Etiquette and the social decorum that followed was thusly determined by how far one distances themselves from what the Nexians considered as animal-like behaviors. Civilization was, after all, the testament of the triumph of the mind over the desires of the flesh. And to be civilized meant the adherence to that which delineates the person from the animal: culture. Our keen sense of smell, our ancestral drive for the hunt based on scent alone, was simply incompatible with this worldview. But when the choice was to do or to not, with the latter being arbitrary and the former being innately useful¡­ then there was no choice to be made at all. That was lesson 394 from the proving grounds, courtesy of my uncle. And it would quickly prove to be a valuable lesson for the present. For within the scents, I was quickly becoming familiarized to within this domicile: the distinct fragrance of the fresh linens, the nutty earthiness of the venerable furniture, and the¡­ lizardness of the blue-scaled lizard, there was something new here that just did not belong. Something new that was incredibly subtle, strangely so, but that hit me hard the moment I started focusing. It was the smell of acrid pungency, one that tickled my nose with what felt like bits and pieces of coarse dust that was invisible to the naked eye. It was the undeniable smell of smoke, and the distinct sensation of ash. A renewed surge of confidence took over me, as I felt my heart suddenly pumping with a renewed vigor. My pupils dilated, and my whole body felt ready to surge forward at a moment¡¯s notice. I was now, well and truly, on the hunt. Keeping my eyes peeled, and my mana-perception open, I moved swiftly to the source of this foreign smell. This led me to a pile of refuse that was the Vunerian¡¯s secondary nest, a mish-mash of soft bed covers, pillows, stuffed caricatures, and other such garbage. I made short work of this, peeling back layer after layer before I was hit with the source of that acrid scent. It was a letter. Or rather, was a letter. One that had been completely incinerated by the Vunerian¡¯s breath. I couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of it, not without a restoration spell, which was the kind of subject matter that was taught at the Academy and not common knowledge. So I kept searching for clues. This eventually brought me to one of the room¡¯s cabinets, over on the Vunerian¡¯s side of the domicile. It was here that I found another burned letter. This one, however, was only partially burned. ¡°Mandatory¡­ assembly¡­ announcement¡­ attendance is¡­¡± I didn¡¯t need to see the rest of it to confirm what it was. There was no doubt about it. This was definitely the letter the insipid apprentice blocking the library was talking about. Which meant Ilunor must have seen the letter, before purposefully setting it ablaze. So I continued searching, once more relying on scent alone to trace the origin of all of this acrid smoke. It wasn¡¯t hard to do. The blue thing¡¯s little demonstration of nothing but soot-breath at the night of Emma¡¯s weapons inspection had given me more than enough to work with. So with that memory fresh in mind, and the very strong reminders of that particular scent still present in the air, I began tracing the room. He must have been close, if not still in the room itself. I could smell the source getting closer and closer. Each step leading to increasingly intensified soot-breath. This meant the lizard must be here, in spite of my inability to sense the presence of his mana-field. I couldn¡¯t say whether or not that was a result of my own inadequacies in mana-field tracking, or the lizard¡¯s inherent talents in mana-field masking. Perhaps the truth lay somewhere in the middle. Either way, the sheer lack of anything in the mana-streams wasn¡¯t at all normal. Barring Emma, or a wizard of higher standing like one of the professors, mana-field masking such as this was simply unheard of. And yet here I was, getting closer and closer towards what my nose told me was the source of all of this wanton use of magical fire. The scent eventually took me to the second-floor loft of the domicile, one which circled the entire perimeter of the room. It was here that the ashen sensation tickling my nose dissipated, replaced instead with an increasingly thick acridity that grew and grew until finally¡­ I passed it. I¡¯d passed the point of maximal intensity without seeing anything out of the ordinary. Backtracking by a good few feet, I began honing in on the specific point of maximal intensity, bringing me to a walk-in closet right across from the Vunerian¡¯s bed. One of the two we¡¯d split between us. I began opening up my mana field even more now, pushing, pulling, tugging against the latent currents¡­ and yet¡­ there was nothing. No signs of life. Not even a hint of a soul. And yet, I could smell the pungent smoke, all while being unable to actually smell the Vunerian anywhere. So with all of these conflicting senses, with only the lupinor in me screaming that we¡¯d finally found him, I gave in. I put faith in my lupinor heritage, and SLAMMED the double-doors to the walk-in-closet open with such force that I could feel the wood buckling under the strain. It was there that I was hit with several things at once. First, my mana-streams were suddenly inundated by the overwhelming presence of another soul. This, after increasing my sensitivities to the ebbs and flows of the streams, was as close to sensory overload as was possible. Second, my eyes barely caught a glimpse of something blue zipping across my peripheral vision, having literally entered into existence without so much as a footstep. And third, I suddenly felt something impacting against my armored belly, eliciting a loud GONG that resonated loudly across the room, before the inevitable pained high-pitched screams a lizard quickly followed. ¡°Did you really think that would work?¡± I shouted with a frustrated growl, before deftly picking the small thing up under both of his arms like an incessant pup. This of course, resulted in what I could only describe as a rabid-response from the Vunerian who began thrashing in place, to little effect. ¡°Shut up!¡± I barked out, causing the Vunerian to finally lose his grip on something he had held in his paws up to this point. It was a piece of unassuming cloth, what looked to be a blanket of all things, that floated to the ground unceremoniously prompting the little thing to reach for it with all of his might. ¡°What in the hell¡¯s wrong with you, Ilunor?!¡± I continued, and unlike the Vunerian who clearly had his priorities mixed up, I began pressing the issue of our time-sensitive predicament. ¡°Lord Rularia, we have but minutes to spare before you and you alone risk compromising the integrity of our peer group! Do you understand that?!¡± That warning, perhaps because of its sheer delivery, was enough to get the Vunerian back to his senses as he finally hung limp in my grip. ¡°Put. Me. Down. Right this instant.¡± Ilunor seemed to finally come to his senses again. His request however, was laden with risk, despite being the most socially acceptable thing to do at this point in time. ¡°Are you going to scamper away again?¡± I asked threateningly through a series of growls. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Do I have your word, Lord Rularia?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± With little way of eye contact, I finally put the blue thing down, who promptly grabbed that piece of fabric before using a spell to simply shrink the thing into one of his many pockets. The minor lord took a few short seconds to brush himself down, deliberately averting his gaze from my own once again, as something within me could tell that something was off with the Vunerian. So many pieces of this puzzle just didn¡¯t add up. I didn¡¯t know where to begin¡­ but considering the fact that we were pressed for time, I had little in the way of talk before we needed to depart right then and there. ¡°Lord Rularia, would you mind telling me just why it is you were purposefully hiding from this mandatory engagement?¡± I asked simply, biting straight through the fat and into the meat of things. The small thing refused to respond, as he only looked away with sullen, almost resigned eyes. It was an expression I don¡¯t think I¡¯d ever recalled seeing from the Vunerian up to this point. ¡°Well?¡± I urged. ¡°What-¡± ¡°I need you to make me a promise, Prince Thalmin Havenbrock.¡± The small thing finally spoke. And this time, there was no grandstanding or measures of pretense. There was no excessively vitriolic response in an attempt to mask or hide another agenda, what I knew was a facade of a front to distract and redirect. There were only the first inklings of a more¡­ dare I say it¡­ earnest Ilunor. ¡°I am willing to proceed with this unnecessary engagement, I am¡­ willing to do so for the sake of our peer group. However, I require reassurances. Prince Thalmin Havenbrock-¡± Ilunor paused, taking a moment to actually look me in the eyes with the composure of a true noble. ¡°-can you promise me that you are likewise willing to protect the integrity of this peer group? By guaranteeing my safety?¡± The circumstances surrounding Ilunor¡¯s hiding suddenly became clear to me, as did a great number of additional questions that entered soon after. ¡°Ilunor, I can¡¯t-¡± ¡°If you do not, then I shall simply dematerialize once more and lay in hiding until your arbitrary time limit runs its course.¡± Ilunor threatened. The little thing knew that time was not on my side. He knew that the hand of negotiation was well and truly on his side. That, or he was bluffing about his capabilities. This whole situation reeked of duplicitous undertones. And whilst part of me knew I could potentially use violence to press the matter forward, I had a feeling like that wouldn¡¯t work out well right now, not if his capabilities were well and truly able to circumvent my efforts. ¡°Well-?¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I admitted with a low, dulcet growl. ¡°But only for the duration of this meeting.¡± I continued, making sure to set clearly defined boundaries to this otherwise vague agreement. ¡°And then, you must explain everything to me, and to the rest of the group.¡± ¡°I can only agree to explain that which necessitates explaining.¡± Ilunor interjected, as I felt a low buzzing in my pocket from my timepiece. It was time to go. ¡°We¡¯ll dictate those terms when we cross that bridge, now let¡¯s go.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to The Grand Assembly Hall. Local Time: 12:44 Hours. Emma Booker The past hour was a confusing mix of genuinely engaging conversations with Thacea, internal housekeeping with the EVI, and a constant sense of FOMO from having let Thalmin tackle the discount kobold alone. I was practically at the edge of my seat when the pair finally decided to arrive in the nick of time, averting some highly unnecessary Academy-grade drama by just under a minute, as the doors closed behind them with a resounding CLUNK. As the pair finally sat down, I perked my brow up to see Ilunor wrapping himself in what I could only describe as a blanket. With the room now sealed off from the outside world, there was a marked improvement in the overall acoustics, which served to enhance the whispers of intrigue and gossip amongst the chatty ranks that made up the student body. The EVI was quick to pick up on them, relaying them to me just like it did right from the very first day. ¡°Completely unnecessary. I was already making headway towards the town as is!¡± ¡°What is this all about? The dragon? Hmmph, where I come from, dragons are a dime a dozen!¡± ¡°I heard this is about the explosion earlier this morning. Something about a magical cataclysm.¡± ¡°Well aren¡¯t we lucky to be the year group that ushers in local cataclysm?¡± ¡°Shh! It looks like they¡¯re starting!¡± The start to this emergency assembly began in the most fittingly Nexian way possible. It started with music. The curtains blocking the stage were slowly unfurled, revealing a full on ensemble of musicians who began playing what I could only describe as a sudden and forceful tune to gain the crowd¡¯s attention, before stopping as abruptly as they¡¯d started. It was only when the whispers had died down that the music began in earnest. This time, proceeding more traditionally, starting with a slow bowing of string instruments, followed up by a series of heart-thumping drums, before finally finishing off with a resonant clang of what sounded like cymbals. A second pair of curtains behind the musical ensemble opened soon after, revealing a stage dominated by a large podium. Behind it, was a long uninterrupted table, covered by an equally long cloth, with tapestries and ceremonial shields decorated with ornate crests of wildly different designs; the colors of each crest popping out against the white backdrop that was the tablecloth. Familiar faces populated the stage, with Professors Vanavan, Chiska, Belnor, Articord, and more that I vaguely recalled from orientation standing next to their respective seats. This packed roster however was interrupted by a single, lonely seat. A seat that looked all the more empty and out of place by the sheer turnout of those on stage, not to mention the ¡®packed¡¯ crowd within the audience. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Another mana radiation alert preempted the arrival of the final element to complete this lineup. As a certain white-robed dean teleported in on a series of ethereal clouds that swirled up in the air above the stage to form a whole person. The wisps of white quickly materializing into a physical form with arms far outstretched to his sides, hovering slowly onto the ground with a rushing breeze. The whole thing prompted me to question just how far this T-posing elf needed to go to assert his dominance. Since my experiences with teleportation magic so far had shown that clouds and other theatrics weren¡¯t a necessary prerequisite to teleportation magic. ¡°Students, esteemed and respected peers of this great place of learning, I have called upon the Expectant Oath of the Guardian to humbly and respectfully interrupt the proceedings of this grace period for the purposes of preemptively addressing certain unexpected developments of which many of you may already be aware of.¡± The man made an effort to make eye contact with the crowd, but for a split second, he seemed to do what only Thacea, and to a limited extent Thalmin, was capable of doing up to this point. He made eye contact with me through my opaque lenses, in what felt like the most effortless move imaginable, before promptly moving on. ¡°For those of you who may be unaware, allow me to elaborate. During the third and fourth hours prior to the morning¡¯s dawn, the town of Elaseer was struck by a series of unprovoked and cowardly attacks by the hands of an as-of-yet indeterminable party.¡± A series of whispers threatened to erupt within the audience again, but was promptly shot down by the musicians still on stage, playing a series of sharp tunes that caused them to stop in their tracks. The dean continued on without missing a single beat. ¡°These attacks resulted in the damage and subsequent partial destruction of an Academy-affiliated life-archive and transportium holding facility; bringing the Academy¡¯s full involvement in what would otherwise be an Elaseer-exclusive incident. The sudden and unexpected arrival of an amethyst dragon during the course of these attacks is known to us, and what¡¯s more, the reports of unexplained beastly howls preceding the attack, is likewise known to us.¡± The dean paused, his compassionate yet calculating eyes taking stock of the reactions of the crowd, more specifically, at the students sitting in the front row. ¡°Those of you within the crowd who may fancy themselves ever-the-analytical sort may already understand the scope of this attack, and the parties that could potentially be involved. Nevertheless, this matter is one that none of you, let alone first-years, should concern yourself about. The Academy and its investigative bodies are already in the process of pursuing these culprits. And rest assured, with the aid of the Academy, Elaseer will quickly find and bring the parties involved to justice.¡± Heh. Playing those werebeast¡¯s noises to scare off those civvies in the area certainly helps with your narrative spin, doesn¡¯t it, dean? I shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. In fact, that was probably why I wasn¡¯t necessarily nervous about this whole assembly in the first place. Implicating me of all people would¡¯ve been an embarrassing nightmare for the Academy. What¡¯s more, there were just so many ways they could¡¯ve spun this, that my involvement would¡¯ve actually been the lesser of obvious reasons for this whole debacle. Ironically, fact would¡¯ve been stranger and less acceptable than fiction in this situation. ¡°The reason why I am explaining this to all of you here today is simple. The Academy is nothing if not transparent about its proceedings and the proceedings of its immediate surroundings to those within the ranks of its peerage.¡± The man spoke with a warm, comforting smile. One that I would¡¯ve trusted if not for knowing the truth behind the lies. ¡°We are a center of learning, a place of wisdom. To convey and to disseminate information is within our core, and as such, our intent is to enlighten. This is especially true in regards to events that will invariably and directly affect the course of our Academic calendar.¡± The man paused for effect, taking a moment to once more meet everyone¡¯s gaze, before exhaling dramatically to cement the severity of the inevitable announcement. ¡°The Academy has always prioritized the welfare of its peers above all other concerns. The uncertainties we face in light of recent events is yet another test to our commitment to this cause. As such, in accordance with the Expectant Oath of the Guardian, I deem it necessary to invoke the powers of Oversight in order to postpone the scheduled activities previously slated for the fourth and fifth days of this five-day grace period.¡± More voices started to emerge within the crowd, but similar to what happened before, they were shot down by a series of sharp harmonic trills courtesy of the on-stage musicians. ¡°These activities include the fourth day¡¯s scheduled hours for learning-materials procurement from Elaseer, and the fifth day¡¯s much-anticipated House Choosing Ceremony. Both activities will be tentatively rescheduled forward towards the end of the next week. Thus, next week¡¯s classes shall begin without the formation of first-year houses.¡± The dean promptly gestured towards an exhausted-looking Chiska, who stood up from her seat on wobbly, bandaged legs. ¡°My department shall be posting updates on these two activities, on the Grand Community Board, as well as announcement letters to be sent to each of your dorms when the time comes.¡± ¡°Thank you, Professor.¡± The dean nodded respectfully, before quickly shifting gears. ¡°Now, to address another matter that most of you are certainly unaware of, except for a few of you more adventurous proactive souls.¡± The dean preempted, before pulling out a piece of paper right out of thin air. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°As all of you are aware, the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts has been host to The Library from the very inception of our founding. Indeed, we pride ourselves in being the single, longest, uninterrupted host to the compendium of all that ever was and all that ever will be. This is in no small part a direct result from our discipline in maintaining and respecting the unspoken codes of conduct when accessing its services. It is this ceaseless adherence to our vows of mutual respect that has allowed us to maintain open access to the library throughout the untold eons. These vows, however, have seen their first violation in living memory. A violation committed at the hands of one of our own peers.¡± The dean paused, as if waiting for some sort of response, almost daring anyone from the audience to whisper or mutter out something. The crowd remained silent all throughout, as if they all collectively realized the severity of the situation. ¡°Starting tomorrow, in place of the House Choosing Ceremonies, there shall be an investigative council that shall call upon those within reasonable suspicion of this vile, malicious action. Those of you in suspect, shall be called upon as a group, or individually. You are free to roam the grounds, or remain in your dorms, for we will know where you are when the time comes.¡± The man announced ominously, which seemed to shake the whole room to its core. Heads began turning in every possible direction as a result of this, as I noticed Thacea and Thalmin¡¯s expressions shifting to that of a renewed sense of concern. Ilunor, however, seemed to watch on not in boredom, nor even in anxious concern like everyone else¡­ but instead, in what I could only describe as a look of a deer in headlights. ¡°Are there any questions?¡± The dean suddenly added, which was surprisingly, answered by a lone reptilian hand belonging to one of the students in the front row. ¡°Yes, Lord Qiv Ratom, the floor is yours.¡± Qiv stood up, patting down his uniform as he stood tall and with a practiced posture before speaking. ¡°Thank you, Professor Atalan Rur Astur. I have but one question to bring forth to your attention.¡± The man cleared throat before continuing. ¡°Does all of this mean that the library is currently off limits pending investigation?¡± The Dean¡¯s face maintained its warm, friendly complexion, as he took a few seconds to ponder Qiv¡¯s question. ¡°Yes.¡± He replied simply. ¡°The library will be off limits for the duration of this investigation.¡± Qiv took a deep bow at the end of that answer, then promptly spoke before retaking his seat. ¡°Thank you, Professor Atalan Rur Astur. I defer the floor back to its rightful master.¡± Whilst growing concerns and anxieties over the potential lockdown of the library began rearing its ugly head inside of my mind, a thought suddenly emerged that was the potential answer to this whole unexpected development. I raised my hand, much to Thacea¡¯s shock, and to Thalmin¡¯s interest, as the Dean narrowed his eyes my way, and nodded. ¡°Yes, Cadet Emma Booker, the floor is yours.¡± He spoke in that same, reassuring tone of voice that I knew was full of crap. I turned to Qiv for a second, deciding to take a page out of his book of decorum, by standing up and then going through the motions. ¡°Thank you, Professor Atalan Rur Astur.¡± I paused, bowing slightly. ¡°I just have one question. Would you be allowed in if you had a library card?¡± ¡­..¡­..¡­.. The dean couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at that question. It was a warm chuckle, a patronizing chuckle, hiding within it a certain level of condescension. The man actually took the time to pause, before causing another spike in mana radiation- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS -in order to materialize his own library card out of thin air as if to demonstrate his next point. ¡°You mean something like this?¡± He paused for effect, twirling the small metal card in his hands for good measure, allowing me a chance at getting a good look at his card. Strangely, whilst most details were similar to my own, it was the actual color and material that seemed different. The Dean¡¯s being a pearlescent silvery white, as opposed to my card¡¯s traditional yellow-gold. ¡°If you indeed possess a grand artifact such as this, then I do not see any issue in allowing you, or any one else who possesses such a gift, access to the library at this time. This card demonstrates the integrity of one¡¯s character. It serves as a mark of honor, and a symbol of virtue. It shows that you have been vetted, scrutinized, and probed by one of the wisest, oldest beings in all of existence, comparable only to His Eternal Majesty in its wisdom and judgment. It is highly unlikely then, that the holders of this artifact would be in any way responsible for acts in encroachment and in violation of the library¡¯s sanctity. I hope this answer has been sufficient, Cadet Emma Booker, despite it clearly being inapplicable to your case. It is however commendable that you broach such curiosities whilst being outside of the circle of the privileged few who can actually utilize it.¡± He paused for effect, causing a slow but gradual uproar of chuckling within the crowd, which eventually evolved into all out laughter. It was at this point that I knew I had a unique opportunity in my hands. An opportunity to kill so many birds with one stone. I had the attention of the entire room. I¡¯d just been dealt a verbal smackdown that I had the perfect counter for. And what¡¯s more, I had the unique opportunity now of setting the record straight in the eyes of all of those present. It was time to play ball and demonstrate a bit of humanity¡¯s soft power here and now. With a look of genuine curiosity from the likes of Thacea, who clearly understood what was going through my head, and Thalmin who seemed overly excited for what was to come, I unclasped one of my pockets. Feeling the cold hard metal of the small rectangular plate, I clasped it between my middle and index fingers, before pulling it out in a single flourish. Not a second later, I felt the entire room going completely silent. The laughter, chuckling, and dismissive rants all but stopped in a matter of seconds. The silence was deafening, so much so that I could make out a few gasps of shock from far away in the distance. There was no response from anyone, not especially from the dean himself who now stared blankly at the card, focusing on the helmeted portrait that without a doubt confirmed its owner. Earthrealm was here. And Earthrealm meant business. Chapter 46: Objection! No one spoke. Not a single soul dared to interrupt collective shock that had fallen upon this hall of magical elites. For the first time in what felt like forever, true, genuine silence actually dawned upon this otherwise ceaselessly chatty crowd. A crowd that found it possible to talk over anything, even the arrival of a dragon following an earth-shattering explosion. This made their stares all the more palpable, as each and every pair of eyes, round, slitted, and otherwise, all locked on with expressions as diverse and dynamic as the number of species present within the room. Shock and disbelief was the most common amongst them, this was followed up closely by confusion and disbelief, then intrigue, and even fear and concern amongst a rare few. To my right was Thacea¡¯s look of anxious worry, and to my left was Thalmin¡¯s excitable gaze only tempered by his otherwise cool expression. To my far left was Ilunor, who looked like he¡¯d just checked out of reality, with that deer-in-headlights expression still holding strong. Though there was something else to that gaze as it zeroed in on my card, as if out of some sense of doubt and worry. To my front was Qiv, whose eyes never once landed on me, but solely and possessively on that shiny object of interest held tightly between my fingers. The professors on stage fared no better, with Chiska being the most animated out of all of them, her feline eyes all but dilated like a domestic cat having caught sight of a particularly elusive prey. Though amongst all of these, it was the dean who was the most interesting to read, as his previously warm and condescending expressions quickly shifted to a placid, tempered one. One that was otherwise decidedly calm, if not for those two eyes that pierced straight through my very soul. Two eyes that seemed to not-so-subtly say stop, just short of verbally demanding it. It was then that I realized I had a call to make, on just how far I wanted to take this, and whether or not I wanted to seize this opportunity for what it could easily become. This mission was about conducting diplomacy as much as it was about fulfilling, attending, and observing my role as Earthrealm¡¯s candidate in the eyes of the Academy. It was clear however, that seizing this opportunity would be one of those instances where the aims of these two roles would be far from mutual alignment, perhaps even drifting into the territory of conflicting interests. But this wasn¡¯t anything new. In fact, it wasn¡¯t as if I hadn¡¯t already tested the limits of my role as a candidate. The first few hours following my arrival at the Academy was a testament to this, given the awkward position the binding ritual had placed me in. As a candidate, I was obligated to follow through with all of the oaths and pledges. As a representative, I was obligated to reject any oaths or pledges to a foreign power. What¡¯s more, as a representative, I was obligated to make it clear what my presence here meant, so that no one could misconstrue silence with acquiescence. But that situation was fundamentally different from this. This time, I wasn¡¯t just responding or reacting. This time, I was taking the initiative. Because unlike the binding ceremony, this situation wasn¡¯t instigated by any within the Academy¡¯s ranks. It was instead initiated by me, out of chance, and on the spot. The latter¡¯s spontaneity being something completely unagreeable to Nexian sensibilities. The path to diplomacy, to political maneuvering and posturing wasn¡¯t always clear cut. In fact, it was rarely ever straightforward. This wasn¡¯t a pre-planned course, or a strictly choreographed itinerary. It was subjective, and up to the whims of social context which could easily be upended by so many independent variables dictated by an innumerable quantity of independent actors all with their own aims and goals. To wait for your turn in such a setting would be as good as allowing yourself to be trampled over. It was as good as giving up and packing your bags home. Diplomacy, at least in a setting as competitively aggressive as this, with draconian rules that lacked the systematic nuance of the UN¡¯s boringly legislated state protocols, demanded a more opportunistic and aggressive mindset. This definitely fit that bill. What¡¯s more, it was the perfect opportunity to finally clear up the air, because it marked the first instance that I could finally dictate the course of my own narrative without it being part of some pre-planned Nexian scheme. It was a chance to finally make humanity¡¯s position known to an audience of hundreds. Hundreds of elites belonging to a hundred different governments scattered across a hundred different worlds, all of them as young and as impressionable as me. It was time to seize the opportunity and just run with it. Starting with something the Nexus seemed overly fond of. Showmanship. ¡°I¡¯m assuming that this-¡± I paused as quickly as I began, running the card between my fingers in a fluid, practiced motion. All those hours of pen spinning tricks finally paid off, as I saw Qiv and a good chunk of the student body training their eyes to match the movements of the card. ¡°-is the grand artifact you were talking about, sir?¡± I allowed my vocoded voice to echo throughout the room, much in the same way the dean¡¯s voice had done before. The acoustic properties of the room worked both ways, and where magic had helped the dean to project his voice, I had my trusty amplifiers to more or less do the same. ¡°Now I¡¯m not much for boasting, nor am I a proponent for the reductive tendencies of ascribing the cumulative worth of a person to a material object, but when the veracity of my honor and integrity comes into question, I find that the best means of addressing doubt and lingering concern is to nip the misconceptions at the bud. That being said, I would like to set the record straight. I would like to make it known to all, that Earthrealm¡¯s first representative does indeed fall into the circle of the privileged few who possesses such an artifact. And by that same reasoning, possesses the badge of honor, virtue, and integrity in accordance with the library¡¯s selective scrutiny.¡± I parroted the dean¡¯s own words not directly back towards him, but towards the room as a whole, triggering the man¡¯s gaze to shift from that of a strong insistence to an outright look of seething indignancy. ¡°I would also like to make it known that this was accomplished not within a lifespan, or a career, but a matter of days upon my arrival.¡± This fact seemed to be enough to send a good half of my captive audience into a catatonic spiral of pupillary dilation. ¡°Earthrealm¡¯s intentions has been, and always continues to be, one of friendly diplomatic outreach. Our goal when breaching the void between spaces was always fueled by peaceful intent, and driven by the tenets of discovery and exploration. We sought out new worlds with the hopes of discovering intelligent life amongst the breadth of infinity. We reached through the void between spaces with open minds and measured hearts. We did this all with the intent of peaceful and constructive contact in mind. My presence here, and my candidacy at the Academy represents humanity¡¯s first achievement in those steps towards peaceful coexistence. My procurement of this card represents humanity¡¯s second achievement in this aim.¡± I paused, taking a breath as I allowed my point to be made. During this, I noted that Thacea, and several other students¡¯ eyes looked on, no longer with shock or concern, but with a knowing gaze as if they were predicting the trajectory of this speech. ¡°For this marks the beginnings of the start to a peaceful, constructive dialogue, between Earthrealm and a second neutral entity.¡± I let out a small exhale, before transitioning quickly into my final points. ¡°And if I were to be so brazen, I¡¯d honestly say that this is only just the beginning. The beginning of a long unending tradition where multilateral dialogue paves the way for a lasting peace between civilized peoples. Suffice it to say, Earthrealm is here to talk, and is willing to talk, on equal and respectful ground.¡± I made it clear what I meant by that, by craning my head to meet not the dean, but the students themselves. The students who, as I noticed last night, were clearly not all at the top of the pecking order. Which meant my hearts and minds brand of diplomacy might be able to crack through with some of them, if Sorecar and Larial were any indication of what was possible at least. I didn¡¯t know what to expect by the end of that speech. I definitely knew it wasn¡¯t going to be an uproarious round of applause. I knew this wasn¡¯t that sort of story. I knew I wasn¡¯t in some sort of a feel-good fantasy drama where all it took to change the world was one simple speech. But that wasn¡¯t the reason why I gave this speech in the first place. I did this to prove a point, to make a statement, to demonstrate that humanity was a player, not a pawn. So when a small, loud, and purposefully slow series of claps came to quickly break the silence almost immediately after my speech, I was at first confused. Though that confusion certainly didn¡¯t last as a vaguely familiar voice soon made itself known. A voice which the EVI instantly brought up on my HUD. SPEAKER IFF CONFIRMED: A43 AURIS PING - PRONARTHIA REALM [NEUTRAL] ¡°Professor Atalan Rur Astur, may I invoke the Compromise of the Protector in order to retake the floor on your behalf?¡± The large, hulking bull suddenly spoke. He didn¡¯t direct his words towards me, but instead to the Dean on stage. ¡°As the master of this floor, you may, Lord Auris Ping.¡± The Dean spoke sternly, giving the bull a nod as he now directed his attention squarely on me. ¡°Civilized peoples do not overstay their welcome in forums of public speech, Cadet Emma Booker, perhaps you should have spent more time acquainting yourself on the principles of decorum, rather than on perfecting the art of High Nexian. As your efforts in studying this resplendent tongue are all but squandered, if not entirely made pointless, when put to use in these long-winded, self-serving monologues of blasphemous dissidence.¡± The bull began, immediately pulling out all the stops as he¡¯d done before against the likes of Qiv during the whole explosion incident. The latter now watching in heightened interest from the front row. ¡°What are you getting at with-¡± ¡°Civilized peoples do not speak when their betters are speaking to them. And it is becoming clear to me, that a civilized person you aren¡¯t, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The bull began taking firm, resonant steps, walking up from one of the middle rows all the way up to where I stood in the back row. ¡°Which leads me to believe, Cadet Emma Booker, that you are bluffing.¡± I blinked rapidly in response, only to reply simply. ¡°About what?¡± ¡°This.¡± Auris pointed accusingly towards the card still in my hands. ¡°You know something about the library incident don¡¯t you? I mean, it should be quite obvious, is it not?¡± He turned to the crowd of students, not once making eye contact or turning to the professors, making it clear that this was between him, myself, and the rest of the students present. ¡°You? A newrealmer? Waltzing around, hiding in plain sight, masking your manafield in a suit of armor like some sort of a walking, brazen declaration of defiance in the name of the Nexus? Who else could have been responsible for the malicious affronts committed against the library? And why else would you, out of everyone here, be so eager to quickly cement yourself as innocent? Using this so-called evidence to cement your alibi before anyone else has a chance. Prior to tomorrow¡¯s investigation, no less?¡± The bull glared at me with what I could only describe as a ¡®gotcha¡¯ grin, fulfilling the Dean¡¯s prophecy of being one of those students that ¡®fancies themselves the over analytical sort¡¯. ¡°In following extremes, I have reason to believe that the supposed card you hold in between your primitive fingers to be nothing but a forgery. A carefully constructed component of this haphazardly planned bluff.¡± The bull pushed on, before entering what I could only describe as an Ilunor-grade death-spiral, as that internal narrative started to take over their reasoning. ¡°Because the alternative to that truth is to assume that the library of all entities has indeed deemed it fit to bestow upon you, a mark of patronage. You, a backwater newrealmer of all people.¡± He scoffed, letting out an indignant huff in the process. ¡°The content of your character is already suspect enough. However, to assume that you had something to trade, something to offer, something to provide the library that would somehow grant you a gold card of all things is absurd. For what could a newrealmer offer that a fully-actualized Adjacent Realmer, let alone a Nexian, could not?¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The question hung in the air for a few tentative seconds, and in those seconds, the same silence continued to dominate without reprieve. ¡°Admit it. You have nothing of value to offer the library, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± I took an audible sigh, making sure that the Auris heard it. ¡°You¡¯re right, Lord Ping.¡± I suddenly responded, much to the audible gasps of about half the room, and a look of victory slowly forming upon the bull¡¯s punchable face. ¡°I have nothing of value to offer.¡± ¡°See, the charlatan admits her-¡± ¡°But humanity does.¡± I interjected, stealing the wind right out of his sails, elaborating before he could get another word in. ¡°Because make no mistake, Lord Ping. I am not here on a journey of self-aggrandizement, nor a quest driven by personal betterment. I am here as a conduit, bearing the collective efforts of tens of thousands of brilliant minds behind me. I am here as a proxy, standing on the shoulders of a hundred million giants that have collectively led me to where I am today. As a result, it was not me who offered the library a value proposition that led to this¡­¡± I paused, taking a moment to tap the card against the composalite of my armor, generating a series of satisfying metallic clinks in the process. ¡°It was the collective efforts of my people that resulted in this turnout.¡± The room¡¯s reactions to my response was mixed, though most seemed too invested in the spectacle rather than the words to seemingly take sides just yet, as all waited to see where this would go. The bull¡¯s response was decidedly measured, yet dismissive all the same. As all he did was to simply chuff out an audibly loud scoff, before proceeding on with yet another dismissive slight. ¡°So shall we add a misplaced sense of humility to the growing list of character deficits, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± There was a pause at the end of that sentence, as if he¡¯d somehow meant that as anything but a rhetorical question. It didn¡¯t last very long however for the bullish noble to move on, entering what was probably the final inevitable stretch of his arguments. ¡°I believe it best that we end this charade once and for all. No more lies, no more deceits, no more posturing and mulling about. This whole situation has come about as a direct result of one object and one object alone. As a result of this, I believe it¡¯s best if I take a closer look.¡± He held out his hand, just a few feet short of me, as I looked down on it with an expressionless, unamused gaze. One that was actually translated well given the default neutral expression of my helmet. I refused to respond, not wanting to play into his hand either way. But it was clear the large bully wasn¡¯t having it. ¡°Well? What say you, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°No.¡± I responded with a loud, resounding denial. One that I¡¯d purposefully turned up the volume on for good measure. This clearly didn¡¯t faze the bull as he kept pushing regardless. ¡°What do you mean, no?¡± ¡°No means no, Lord Ping.¡± What little there was of whispers once again died down at this, as something shifted behind the bull¡¯s eyes. I couldn¡¯t tell exactly what, but I didn¡¯t need to. Not when the pupils of his eyes narrowed into pinpricks, and the white of his eyes started to go red. ¡°Does a commoner, a peasant, a child of the dirt dare to refuse and insult a noble of pure pedigree?¡± The way he spoke, the way he carried each and every syllable, was just so different to what I¡¯d been used to. Whilst the words were something I could¡¯ve easily imagined coming out of Ilunor¡¯s mouth, the way it was delivered here was fundamentally different. The conviction in his voice, and just how objectively he worded everything was just beyond what Ilunor, Thacea, Thalmin, or even Mal¡¯tory had previously demonstrated. With the latter it was a weird lofty ideology, with wiggle room for political subterfuge and finagling. With Auris? It was zealotry. What¡¯s more, it was zealotry that wasn¡¯t tempered by Ilunor¡¯s scheming or Mal¡¯tory¡¯s play at a bigger game. It was the pure, unadulterated, deal. But that didn¡¯t change anything. I still wasn¡¯t going to back down. ¡°No, Lord Ping. And unless you want to talk this through, perhaps arrange a meeting at the library after this whole library blockade thing blows over, then I¡¯m afraid I will not be letting you lay your hands on my-¡± ¡°INSOLENCE!¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 230% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Several things happened almost all at once. The first, was a weird subtle pull forming around the card still firmly lodged between my fingers. As if someone was attempting to slightly nudge it out of place. Auris¡¯ attempt at telekinetically ripping the card from my hands, no doubt. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The second, was what I could only describe as a sudden display of brilliant lights, so bright that it prompted the EVI to automatically adjust for brightness, and accompanied by yet another mana radiation alert. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The third, was what amounted to a series of earth-shattering claps, as the bull that stood before me was suddenly and unceremoniously forced back with an inexplicable push, as if some invisible wave had thrown him back violently without giving him a chance to even gain his bearings. A single second passed by where nothing at all happened, enough time for the bull to regain his senses, to stare back at me with a look of confusion, disbelief, and what was quickly becoming clear to me as panic. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A panic that was definitely not misplaced, as the fourth distinct anomaly soon made itself known¡­ in the form of a solid beam of energy aimed squarely at the bull. It was at this point that I was able to finally pinpoint the source of all of these sudden surges in mana, by simply tracing the beam of energy to its source. It was coming from my hands. ¡­ Or more specifically, from the card I firmly held. The beam of energy made contact. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS But not before the bull managed to pull something off in the nick of time, generating a visible blue barrier that held for a second before it shattered into nothingness. That second was better than nothing however, as it left his clothes and fur singed, but his body otherwise intact. The silence of the room was finally interrupted by a series of shocked gasps, yells, and a few distinct screams. The atmosphere of the entire space suddenly shifted on its axis from one of tense anticipation throughout our verbal back and forths, to now a barely disguised state of panic. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Yet as quickly as the yells, shrieks, and screams came to dominate the echoey room, so too did other sounds suddenly gain traction. Sounds that resembled the fluttering of feathers, before evolving into the flapping of wings, and then finally, morphing into what I could only describe as the rustling of the pages of several thousand books being flipped through all at once. These sounds, whilst loud and disorienting, seemed to only serve a single purpose. A purpose which became clear to me as it eventually died down the moment Auris started to back away, becoming less and less audible the further the noble backed off. This eventually came to a head with a loud, threatening shriek. The unmistakable vocalization of an owl, before finally, the whole situation ended as confusingly and as abruptly as it began. I looked around, trying to see if the owl had manifested itself using the card as a proxy, but it was nowhere to be seen. The room once more fell into silence, as I was left standing there completely and utterly dumbfounded. To say that I was at a loss for words would be an understatement, as these magical shenanigans once more tested the absolute limits of my sanity. But with everything having just transpired, and with Auris having now well and truly backed off now, I was once more faced with a unique opportunity. One that tied back to the whole purpose of this tangent in the first place. Proving a point. Except this time, it would be short and sweet, as these magical developments had already done all of the speaking for me. It was just up to me now to tie it all back up in a neat little knot. A little knot that I realized could easily tie back to the events of the past few days. ¡°Let it be known¡­ that Earthrealm, and its candidate, does not take kindly to any attempts of thievery; and that we reserve the right to respond as we deem appropriate.¡± I paused, taking a moment to hammer home a point whose significance would only be realized between those in-the-know. I turned to face the Dean, before once more taking a page out of Qiv¡¯s book, and addressed him with the most appropriate endcap to this whole act. ¡°I, Emma Booker, Cadet of the United Nations Armed Forces, and Patron of the Library, defer the floor back to its rightful master.¡± The Dean¡¯s reactions¡­ were nothing short of a complete and utter look of agonizing disdain. Although his face didn¡¯t really read as such. Moreover, it was that same, welcoming expression, accepting even. It was his eyes that did all of the talking, and right now, they were speaking a completely different language to the rest of his features. Indeed, they told a completely different story to what he was about to say as he cleared his throat for a decorum-approved response. ¡°The floor recognizes this action, and recognizes the new title of one Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm, Patron of the Library.¡± The whole room erupted in a newfound series of whispers, wide-eyed surprise dominated their expressions, as did reactions that ranged anywhere from disheartened disgust all the way to what I could only describe as apprehensive acknowledgement. ¡°What just happened?¡± ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know-¡± ¡°The Earthrealmer performed a maneuver.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you mean newrealmer?¡± ¡°When I think newrealm, I think sticks and stones, or wooden huts. This isn¡¯t it. This doesn¡¯t sound like it. This doesn¡¯t LOOK like it. So no, I¡¯m sticking with Earthrealmer. She at least deserves this much for pulling this brazen stunt off.¡± ¡°I concur.¡± ¡°You lot are seriously considering humoring a commoner-¡± ¡°A commoner with a library card. Let it be known that this isn¡¯t just any commoner. We may be dealing with a situation with a truly novel civilization. One with regressive sociological organization, but progressive acumen in other areas that actually matter. At least, enough for the library to consider her worthy.¡± ¡°You lot are insane.¡± ¡°I concur, she¡¯s a one trick pony is what she is.¡± ¡°Exactly. Mark my words, she will not amount to anything.¡± All of these whispers were eventually silenced. This time however, not by the likes of the musical ensemble on stage, but by a raised hand from the recently defeated Auris. ¡°Yes, Lord Auris Ping, the floor is yours.¡± The Dean spoke softly. ¡°Thank you, Professor Atalan Rur Astur. I have but one, final question, and a request within the pillars of expectant decorum.¡± The bull noble paused, taking a moment to catch his breath before continuing. ¡°Professor, I call for disciplinary actions to be enforced upon the likes of this newrealmer.¡± He spoke with a barely hidden rage just simmering underneath what remained of his ¡®polite¡¯ sensibilities. ¡°I call upon the Academy to uphold its guarantees of the Expectant Rights and Honors. Furthermore, I call upon the Expectant Oath of the Guardian to enact swift retribution as reparations and in atonement for the damages incurred upon my honor and station.¡± Audible gasps were heard among the faceless crowd within the auditorium, as looks were exchanged between the seething Auris, and the ever-calm and collected Dean. It only took a few seconds for the Dean to respond to this blatant request for vengeance, as a shiver ran up my spine upon realizing just how easily the situation could snowball if this went Auris¡¯ way. I steadied myself for what felt like the inevitable. ¡°I am afraid the honorable Lord Auris Ping has either been misinformed, or has misconstrued the terms of the aforementioned Oaths, Rights, and Honors.¡± He began, garnering a look of abject shock from Auris as he continued unabated. ¡°The Academy cannot intervene in a feud between two independent parties. For it is within the honorable rights of the two parties to seek a mutually acceptable end to their quarrel. Moreover, the honorable Lord Auris Ping has offered, on his own accord, the Compromise of the Protector has he not?¡± ¡°Indeed I have, Professor.¡± ¡°The Compromise of the Protector bestows upon the voluntary party, the full responsibilities of a given quarrel. This means the full repercussions are to be borne by the party in question, whether good or bad. This entire exchange is thus a matter exclusive to yourself and the newrealmer. Do you understand, Lord Auris Ping?¡± The bull visibly winced in place, as it was clear he wanted nothing more than to lash out, only to repress any rage he had with an unsatisfied sigh. ¡°Yes, Professor.¡± ¡°What¡¯s more, the Expectant Oath of the Guardian does not extend to the damages incurred by parties outside of the Nexus and the Adjacent realms. What you have just faced was the wrath of the Library. A party removed from traditional affairs. It is important not to misconstrue this for the Earthrealmer¡¯s slights against your honor, for the two are distinct and mutually exclusive. Now, with that being said, I suggest you leave post-haste to the infirmary.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A gargoyle statue from one of the many perches above the auditorium suddenly came to life, landing just shy of Auris¡¯ seat. ¡°A gargoyle may escort you if you wish.¡± The bull quickly glanced back and forth, between the gargoyle, the dean, and the rest of his peer group. ¡°Thank you, Professor Atalan Rur Astur. I defer the floor back to its rightful master.¡± The bull spoke in the most resigned way I could¡¯ve possibly imagined, before unceremoniously getting up and walking out of the auditorium. On the way out, I could practically feel his seething side-eye barreling down on me, but only for a few short moments as he passed me without much else happening. ¡°Now, if there are no other questions-¡± The Dean looked around, as if daring anyone else to speak up. Unsurprisingly, nobody did, which prompted the man to bring the whole thing to a satisfying conclusion. ¡°-I hereby conclude this Assembly. Dismissed!¡± Chapter 47: A Heart to Heart Despite the titles, despite the pomp and circumstance, the end of an assembly seemed to be a universal cultural phenomenon that transcended not just species, but entire universes. As immediately after the ensemble of musicians had played their final tune following the dean¡¯s parting words, and the curtains on-stage had drawn to a full close, chaos soon found itself erupting in the form of chatter and gossip within the audience. A hundred different conversations started almost all at once, giving the EVI a run for its money as it began tirelessly isolating and sorting through each and every conversation as best as it could. Hundreds of lines of dialogue now dotted my HUD, each of them unique in their own right, but all of them trended towards three distinct topics. One being the library and the mystery-student responsible for slighting it. Two being Auris¡¯ magical ass-whooping at the hands of my library card. And three being the library card itself, and by extension, me. It was this latter topic that all conversations seemed to eventually circle towards. Like the black hole of drama I was, it seemed as if I was trapping more and more of the undivided attention of an entire year group within my insatiable gravity well. What started out as a few scattered eyes occasionally glancing over towards our group, suddenly became an all out wave of a hundred different constant stares that seemed destined to swallow us whole. This sentiment was more or less confirmed by Thacea, as her expressions said it all. ¡°Emma, it would be prudent if we made our departure post-haste.¡± The princess whispered out, loud enough that I could note the undercurrents of concern present in her voice. And when it came to anything related to the nobility, I knew to trust Thacea¡¯s judgment; she''d spent her whole life dealing with their petty affairs after all. So I began scanning for exit routes in earnest. Or rather, I delegated the task to the EVI, who was definitely way more adept at this sort of thing. Especially when the seconds counted. ¡°EVI, exit routes.¡± ¡°Affirmative, highlighting routes now.¡± With only a handful of paths to choose from, I opted for the one with the least resistance. I instinctively took point with the rest of the gang following suit. Looking at one of my rear-view cameras, I noted how Thalmin was being particularly wary of Ilunor as he kept him close at hand. Quite literally in fact, with his hand never once deviating from the Vunerian¡¯s shoulder. This was definitely a step up from his wariness over Ilunor from before. Which meant there was definitely something up. Something that I¡¯d bring up with him when we got to the dorms. As we made our way out, a handful of students somehow managed to make their way through the crowd, having managed to blip forward by a good ten or so feet- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 340% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS -cutting us off just short of the doors. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A72 ETHOLIN ESILA - RONTALIS REALM [NEUTRAL] ¡°Please, a moment of your time.¡± This small group was led by the short ferret who¡¯d participated in the verbal matchup between Qiv and Auris from the previous night, and was the one to speak first. He stared up at me, though clearly intimidated by Thalmin¡¯s presence in addition to my stature. ¡°I would just like to request an audience with you, Earthrealmer, whenever you may have the chance to do so.¡± He spoke out in a series of fast-paced chatters, his voice quite literally matching up with his small yet adorably proportioned form. ¡°Please let me know when would be most appropriate. Thank you.¡± He scurried off soon after, back into the crowds, blending into the mass of students. In the time it took for Etholin to address me, the crowd had just about stopped a good five feet short of our group. The hundred or so voices blended into an incomprehensible mess at that point, as each student tried throwing question after question at me, resulting in little progress made for any individual question getting through. Only a few stray students refused to join in, the most notable group of this being Qiv and his entourage, who seemed to study us from afar near the front row of the auditorium. The gorn-like lizard¡¯s eyes looked not too amused at the antics I was causing¡­ or perhaps the attention I was inadvertently garnering, and the spotlight I was taking away from him. Eventually, a single voice boomed from the crowd from one student that formed a sort of cone with their hands over their mouth, managing to overpower all others and causing the whole room to go silent for a few precious seconds. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 120% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°How did you get the library card, newrealmer?¡± This once more put me in a unique opportunity, as I had yet another chance to address the crowd. This deceptively simple question demanded an equally simple answer that needed to work as my last word on the argument, to to stoke further interest, but more importantly, to further break down preconceptions on my newrealm status. This was one of those moments where less would be more. "By the librarian offering me one, that''s how." I answered a-matter-of-factly and with an unseen wink underneath my helmet, before turning around and dipping through those double doors, leaving a whole crowd in turmoil.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 1400 Hours. Emma Booker We arrived at the dorm without much in the way of fanfare. To be honest, I was at least expecting some of the buzz from the auditorium to follow us out of it. Maybe even in the form of a vintage 21st century paparazzi chase. However, according to Thacea, that simply wasn¡¯t part of decorum. Apparently, it was more socially acceptable to put your foot in the door if everyone else was doing it, like the literal stampede back at the assembly hall. However, things were different when you were alone and lacked that social net to bank on. We were still more or less outcasts in the greater scheme of the Academy¡¯s social hierarchy after all, so to have someone actively attempt to chase after us would¡¯ve been seen as a bridge too far. It would¡¯ve basically made them look really desperate. Which certainly wasn¡¯t a good look. This was despite the library card coming into play, given how the dust from that whole reveal just hadn¡¯t had enough time to settle yet. Whatever the case was, and whatever the social intricacies entailed, I was glad we were finally back in the dorms. But that relief was sorely short-lived as Thalmin not-so-subtly tugged my arm, indicating he wanted to speak¡­ in private. This meant leaving Ilunor and Thacea alone for a while, and whilst I wasn¡¯t worried about the pair existing in the same room, it just occurred to me how little I saw of their interactions so far. Between Thalmin and myself, Ilunor more or less left Thacea alone, save for the odd tainted jab. Which still boiled my blood to no end but¡­ I had to tolerate it for now, as I shuffled into Thalmin¡¯s room with only a knowing glance exchanged with the likes of Thacea.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Ilunor and Thalmin''s Bedroom. Local Time: 1405 Hours. Emma Booker ¡°Emma, there is a matter we need to discuss.¡± Thalmin began, his tone bordering between respectful, yet urgently paced. ¡°I¡¯m all ears Thalmin.¡± I replied without hesitation. ¡°I will make this brief. While I was in the process of procuring Ilunor¡¯s presence for the assembly, I arrived to find the room empty and bare. There was no trace of the Vunerian, nothing I could see with my eyes, and nothing I could sense in the manastreams.¡± There it was again, the mana-streams¡­ Wait¡­ empty? ¡°Empty and bare? So did he run away or something? How¡¯d you manage to track him down in time for the assembly?¡± ¡°No, he was here. Merely hidden within this domicile.¡± Thalmin quickly corrected. ¡°Wait so, how did you figure out he was here then? Didn¡¯t you say he was completely hidden from sight?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°And completely hidden from¡­ mana-streams?¡± I waved my hands around, attempting to mimic the flow of ¡®mana¡¯ in the best way I could, ironically, using the exact gestures Ilunor had used a few days prior when he¡¯d derided my inability to sense the ebb and flow of mana around me. ¡°That is also correct.¡± ¡°Then how¡¯d you manage to track him down?¡± ¡°I used my inherent investigative abilities.¡± I cocked my head in response to that. To which Thalmin quickly clarified. ¡°I used the investigative abilities inherent to my species.¡± I cocked my head the other way, which prompted Thalmin to sigh, huffing out a large, exasperated breath. Seeing as we were reaching a roadblock, I decided to broach the topic directly, in order to cut through the awkwardness of the situation. ¡°So¡­ did you¡­ erm, now I¡¯m not sure if this is going to be offensive or anything but, did you like¡­ sniff him out?¡± This resulted in nearly the opposite desired effect. The lupinor mercenary prince averted his gaze the moment I spoke that word out loud, and if he had cheeks to redden, I was sure he¡¯d be all but blushing right now. His ears betrayed it all, lying flat on the well-groomed fur of his head. His tail fared no better, having since shifted from a confident straight-edge angle, to a curved shape that bent more naturally towards one side of his leg, just short of curling up around it. ¡°I¡­ This is a matter of great contest within my realm, Emma.¡± Thalmin spoke through an audible growl, as he attempted to make up for the betrayal of his body¡¯s natural cues with a practiced, gravely tone of voice befitting of a mercenary prince. ¡°I really shouldn¡¯t have brought that up.¡± I managed out awkwardly in response. ¡°I¡¯m genuinely, really sorry, Thalmin. I didn¡¯t mean to cause any offense or overstep my boundaries. It¡¯s just that, I sort of assumed that since you have features that resemble¡­¡± I paused, not sure how I¡¯d bring up dogs and wolves to what looked like their distant humanoid cousin. ¡°You see we have a species that uncannily resembles yours in our realm, and they¡¯re usually renowned and respected and lauded and well regarded in every sense of the word for their abilities to utilize their sense of smell and I just thought-¡± ¡°Stop.¡± Thalmin halted my rambles with a sudden, guttural bark. Yet it wasn¡¯t aggressive. This bark wasn¡¯t the same one used on Ilunor. It was more of an inquisitive one, one made to get attention but without the intent to offend. ¡°You said your realm has beings with similar features, and you laud them for it. Do you not find such features on sapient beings to be in a similar vein¡­ degrading or animal-like?¡± I cocked my head at that as if to emphasize my confusion at that question. ¡°Erm, no, why? The only reason I brought it up is because I thought it was a really cool, if not a downright tactically beneficial gift befitting of the martial traditions of your realm. Again, I apologize if that was in any way offensive, Thalmin, I just¡­¡± ¡°No, no.¡± Thalmin interrupted once more. Except this time, he didn¡¯t shout, he didn¡¯t bark, he didn¡¯t do anything so much as raise his voice. ¡°Thank you, Emma.¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Wait what?¡± ¡°Perhaps this is a matter best saved for another time, but I appreciate your candid nature.¡± The lupinor smiled at me in appreciation.. ¡°Suffice it to say, I am not offended in the slightest. And I am¡­ grateful for your appreciation of this natural¡­ as you say it, gift of my kind. I haven¡¯t yet heard anyone outside of my own kin that openly regards it as such.¡± We exchanged a genuinely friendly look for a few moments, before Thalmin continued on with his discussions on Ilunor. ¡°On the topic of my inherent abilities.¡± Thalmin seemed intent on using that phrasing, which I didn¡¯t mind nor wished to dwell on. ¡°I did not find him utilizing his scent. Moreover, the Vunerian was likewise absent from the scents of the room as well. The only reason why I was able to find him was because of this¡­¡± The lupinor walked over to what I could only describe as a pile of soft things, as the wolf rummaged around¡­ only to find nothing. ¡°Wait.¡± Thalmin barked out in confusion, as he began rummaging and practically throwing plush after plush out from the nesting pile. ¡°It was here. It was here when I arrived.¡± He continued on his relentless assault on the poor defenseless plushies, until finally, the pile had been all but dispersed. Nothing was left, except for a small, charred-out piece of what was presumably at one point paper. ¡°It was larger when I first uncovered it¡­ No matter.¡± Thalmin muttered out, before pointing to it vehemently. ¡°When I arrived, I found two burnt letters by scent. This first piece I found underneath the Vunerian¡¯s nesting pile. Which is seemingly disappearing despite there being no more flames to consume it¡­¡± Thalmin observed curiously, before pointing towards a countertop with yet another burnt-out letter. ¡°The second was a letter sent to all dormitories announcing the emergency assembly. He burnt both using his breath, which meant he left a scent trail leading straight to where he hid.¡± The lupinor traced out a path leading to the second floor loft, towards one of the closets. ¡°There, he inexplicably reappeared back into reality. His scent was restored, and so was his presence in the mana-field.¡± With a steady breath, Thalmin prepared to lead into what seemed to be the natural conclusion to his observations. ¡°These inexplicable developments can only mean one thing. I believe that the Vunerian possesses-¡± ¡°-some sort of a magical artifact that hides him from everything? Sight, sound, smell, mana-field, and everything else in between?¡± I quickly interjected, my mind going towards the same conclusion which I couldn¡¯t help but to butt my way into. Thalmin¡¯s eyes narrowed at me curiously, as if he was shocked by my ability to piece this magical mystery together. ¡°Correct. I assume you came to the same conclusion from your experiences with the Vunerian in the armory?¡± I nodded. ¡°Yup, but I¡¯m going to do you one better. I¡¯m going to assume that during your altercation with him, he either dropped that blanket of his, or made an effort to take it with him to the assembly?¡± It was Thalmin¡¯s turn to nod now, as it was clear we were both on the same page. ¡°Correct, which leads me to assume that you are coming to a similar conclusion as I. That his¡­ peculiar and uncharacteristically unstately obsession with that piece of fabric, was done out of practical necessity. For this legendary artifact granting him complete invisibility from all the senses is none other than this unassuming piece of cloth.¡± It was at that point that we both nodded in mutual agreement, grinning proudly at our decidedly basic detective work. ¡°Which now leads us to even more questions.¡± I pressed on, carrying forward the momentum of the conversation. ¡°Where did he get the blanket? How did he get the blanket? And more importantly, why did he feel the need to prep his blanket during the assembly?¡± ¡°I believe I may have an answer for that latter question, Emma.¡± Thalmin offered, to which I nodded, giving him my go-ahead to continue. ¡°Prior to leaving, the Vunerian presented me with an ultimatum. He would only agree to attend the assembly under the condition that I guarantee his safety.¡± My eyes couldn¡¯t help but to grow wide at that, as everything started coming together now. ¡°Now, given what we¡¯ve learned from the assembly, I believe it isn¡¯t too hard to piece together just why he might have been hesitant to attend.¡± Thalmin concluded. ¡°There were only two big announcements at the assembly. The explosion in town, which was more or less glossed over¡­ and then the library situation.¡± I paused, sighing as I attempted to pinch the bridge of my nose, bonking my helmet in the process. ¡°That must have been what he was up to at the library during our whole tango with the null. He must have done something to the library to cause this whole clusterfuck.¡± I offered. To which Thalmin could only nod yet again in agreement. ¡°Getting a bit more common there with your word choice, Emma of Earthrealm, but your point certainly still stands.¡± Thalmin responded with a hint of levity, which was definitely needed given the implications this whole thing was leading up to. ¡°And I¡¯ll continue to let things slip, at least within the confines of this dorm.¡± I chuckled back, before heading seamlessly back into the deep end. ¡°Right, this leaves us with a hypothesis that Ilunor¡¯s responsible for whatever happened in the library, and a prime suspect for tomorrow¡¯s investigation. This also leaves us with several questions still unanswered. And while I¡¯d be glad to sit here and theorize away with you, Thalmin, I think we should just cut to the chase by pressing for answers straight from the source.¡± Thalmin¡¯s eyes couldn¡¯t have grown to a more agreeable state at my little proclamation. ¡°I¡¯m going to redeem our little meeting token we agreed upon back in the armory. And I¡¯m going to use it to get to the bottom of things.¡± The mercenary prince walked up close to me, and with a hearty laugh, he slapped me hard right between where my shoulder blades should be. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit! If only more of the upper echelons had this sort of a go-getter attitude, we¡¯d be in places by now. You certainly have Havenbrockian zeal in you, Emma. It¡¯s¡­ honestly quite jarring to see, and not at all what I expected to find here in the Nexus of all places. But I¡¯m happy that the fates that bind dictated that our paths cross like this.¡± The wolf grinned out excitedly, which I reciprocated underneath my helmet, despite the prince being unable to see it. ¡°I have to ask, are all Earthrealmers like this?¡± ¡°Oh, some, not all. Let¡¯s just say they probably sent me here for my go-getter attitude, I guess.¡± I offered, before turning my sights towards the door, and the blue thing that had a long question and answer session ahead of him. I hope you¡¯re ready, Ilunor¡­
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 1425 Hours. Emma Booker Ilunor was decidedly not ready. As we found him splayed out on the couch in front of Thacea, having seemingly consumed an entire platter of breakfast themed sweets whilst the avinor looked on in polite horror. Both Thalmin and I immediately turned to Thacea for answers. ¡°Thacea?¡± The avinor, as usual, had all the answers we needed. ¡°Lord Rularia seems to have taken to overconsumption to alleviate the stresses plaguing him, Emma.¡± She gestured to the mass of blue that now practically sank into the soft upholstery of the sofa. ¡°We were only talking for what¡­¡± I checked my HUD¡¯s chronograph, before continuing seamlessly. ¡°... twenty minutes?¡± ¡°Lord Rularia mentioned he was feeling particularly stressed, and was famished as a result.¡± All three of our eyes landed on the incapacitated Vunerian, as I decided that enough was enough, and walked up right to him. ¡°Alright. Alright, that''s enough silliness for one day, come on.¡± I spoke sternly. And when that didn¡¯t work, I began poking him. This roused the small thing somewhat, enough that he began to stir, but not enough for him to wake up from his food coma. ¡°Ilunor.¡± ¡°Ehgh¡­¡± ¡°Ilunor.¡± ¡°Ehgghn.¡± ¡°Ilunor, wake up!¡± ¡°AH!¡± The small thing jumped up, that sudden leap ending with him landing right on my shoulders as before, my exopack acting as a convenient seat for him, much to my chagrin. ¡°We need to talk, in private, now.¡± I demanded, with little room for negotiations as I began taking the initiative by walking out of the living room and back towards the dorm, making sure that the Vunerian had little to no time to weasel his way out of this one.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Ilunor and Thalmin''s Bedroom. Local Time: 1430 Hours. Emma Booker Taking a page out of Thalmin¡¯s book, and making sure to walk him forward with a hand secured around his shoulders, we entered his domicile without any issue. ¡°Ilunor.¡± I began with a solid, stoic tone of voice. Shifting away hard from that colloquial and casual tone from my interactions with Thalmin. ¡°I believe now is as good of a time as any to resume where we left off that night. And considering the circumstances-¡± I momentarily shifted my attention to the burnt out letter in the corner of the room, hinting at the fact that I knew more than I was letting on. ¡°-I don¡¯t think there¡¯s going to be an opportunity to delay this any further. So, are you ready to talk?¡± ¡°Ready is a relative state of affairs, newrealmer.¡± The Vunerian began, reaching one arm over to the other, clenching the fabric of his cloak tight between his fingers. ¡°A state of affairs as dynamic as the circumstances that seem oh so eager to evolve on the whims of fate. So yes, let us talk. Let us exchange all that there is to be exchanged before the inevitable conclusion to my story.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to be taken completely off guard by that latter statement¡­ but pushed on regardless. ¡°Just¡­ explain to me what is going on, Ilunor.¡± ¡°You will have to be more specific with your line of questioning, newrealmer-¡± ¡°What exactly are you involved in?¡± I interjected. ¡°Last we chatted, I asked about the specifics of the stunt you pulled in the armory. Now, it seems like those questions pale in comparison to the extent of what¡¯s been happening behind our peer group¡¯s backs.¡± I paused, readjusting my angle of attack to take into account Thacea¡¯s prior discussions about peer group dynamics, and the necessity of maintaining cohesion, to prevent a divide and conquer scenario from outside forces. ¡°So I¡¯m asking you now, as a fellow member of our peer group, tell me what¡¯s been going on. If you want specifics? Sure. Tell me why you¡¯ve been sneaking around. Tell me what was up with your whole stunt at the armory. Tell me how you got that invisibility cloak, and why you even have it to begin with. Tell me about the burned letters. Tell me about your hesitancy in going to the assembly today, or in leaving the room at all. Tell me-¡± ¡°Enough!¡± Ilunor finally put his foot down with nostrils quite literally flaring, his typical tone of voice all but gone at that point, replaced with one coated with severity and devoid of most pretenses. It felt even more ¡®genuine¡¯ than that brief glimpse at a regular conversation following the debacle at the armory. ¡°You¡¯ve made your point, newrealmer¡­ You¡¯ve made your point.¡± Trails of smoke escaped from his maw as he composed himself. The Vunerian¡¯s voice carried with it an unhealthy mix of dread and anxiety. It took him a few seconds, but he eventually regained his composure before pointing to a pair of plush armchairs. No verbal prompting was needed as we both made our way towards them, Ilunor plopping himself atop of one, whilst I elected to stand just across from him for obvious reasons. ¡°There.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 210% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°Perhaps now you¡¯ll be able to sit.¡± I had to do a double take at what I just witnessed. The Vunerian, for the very first time, actually offered me something; and a courtesy at that. Cautiously and with a great deal of suspicion, I decided to take it, sitting down on the magically reinforced chair. ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me for being so brazen¡­ it¡¯s about time you noticed.¡± ¡°What-¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be pleasantly surprised to know that all of this does not require an explanation befitting of the lengthy nothingness of the Expectant Decorum.¡± He immediately went off, diving straight into a different tangent. ¡°In fact, there is a singular thread which weaves together all of these seemingly disconnected points on this tapestry of intrigue.¡± He took a deep breath, staring at me, his eyes seemingly attempting to gain the same type of purchase on the pupils hidden behind my opaque lenses. He hesitated for a moment, as if considering his next words very carefully, before pressing on. ¡°Newrealmer¡­ everything I did, every decision I made, every action I initiated was done because I was under contract. The extracurriculars? The debacle in the armory? All of it was of my doing, but none of it was of my choosing.¡± It all started coming together. The strangeness, the seemingly nonsensical actions and aloofness, all of it now had a sense of direction. But before my mind could fully grapple with that revelation, a certain choice of words irked me enough to shift directions. ¡°You used the word was, past-tense. Did something change?¡± ¡°Hmmph.¡± The blue thing grinned back, seemingly satisfied at my deductions. ¡°So you really are paying attention.¡± He nodded. ¡°That is correct, newrealmer. Circumstances have, in fact, changed. For as it stands, I find myself a signatory to an unwanted agreement, beholden to a contract without a master. Which is why we are here, discussing this matter freely, without the stranglehold of contractual obligation preventing me from partaking in the privileges inherent to my station.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re free from this mysterious ¡®benefactor¡¯.¡± I proclaimed. ¡°Precisely.¡± Ilunor replied, or rather, hissed out not-too-gleefully. ¡°Yet you don¡¯t seem all too pleased about it.¡± I observed out loud. ¡°How could I be, newrealmer? I understand that you may be lacking in experience in such social intricacies due to your realm¡¯s backwardness, so I will try my best to be brief in my explanations. Whilst the cessation of a contract means I am, by your own words, free; this ¡®freedom¡¯ travels in both directions. It is a freedom from, but also a freedom to. I am now both free from its controlling obligations, but by that same reasoning, I am also free to be judged for my actions without any of its protections.¡± Ilunor spoke darkly, his features a distinct mix of equal parts frustration and despair. ¡°And I¡¯m assuming you need its protections because of what you did to the library.¡± I responded without mincing any of my words, causing the Vunerian¡¯s expressions to rapidly darken. ¡°That¡¯s why you were so scared to leave the room today, right? That¡¯s also why you tried your best to hide from the assembly when it was announced. And that¡¯s also why you brought your little invisibility blanket to the assembly, just in case.¡± I hit the Vunerian with accusation after accusation, leaving him no room to squirm. ¡°Am I wrong?¡± ¡°No¡­ You are very much correct, newrealmer.¡± ¡°So what exactly did you do? What exactly happened in the library?¡± ¡­ The Vunerian¡¯s maw began moving, yet nothing audible emerged. His lips trembled as he stopped to regain his bearings, his eyes squeezing shut as he held both armrests tight between his little hands. ¡°A burning.¡± Ilunor managed meekly, practically whispering those words out. My eyes went wide at that revelation, and whilst this would¡¯ve been bad enough if it happened at any regular old library, the fact this happened to the library of all places was enough to send shivers down my spine. ¡°Ilunor¡­ what the fuck did you do?¡± ¡°I¡­ I burned them. An entire section¡¯s worth. Using dragon¡¯s breath and ancient sorcery to ensure a permanent scar.¡± He elaborated with a pained expression, eyes darting to shy away from my helmet¡¯s unchanging visage. A thousand and one questions flooded me, but only one out of all of them managed to come through. ¡°But why?¡± ¡°I was commanded to do so under contract.¡± His retort was filled with a growing irritation. ¡°But why, who would¡­ why would anyone want you to burn books in the library, it just doesn¡¯t make any sense-¡± ¡°Because of you, newrealmer!¡± Ilunor shot back with a seething, frustrated hiss. ¡°It was because of you.¡± Chapter 48: Confessions This was one of those times where my helmet was doing me a disservice, because the expressions currently forming beneath it were more than enough to convey all of my feelings on the Vunerian¡¯s accusations. I had to compensate for my helmet¡¯s encumbrance by just slightly over exaggerating what little emotive ability I had left. Namely, through my use of words, tone of voice, and most underappreciated and overlooked of all¡­ body language. ¡°Because of me?¡± I responded indignantly, leaning my upper body forward, whilst gripping both armrests tight. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that this was somehow my fault?¡± I paused, cocking my head to the side before letting out a loud chuff. ¡°Alright then. I¡¯ll bite.¡± I leaned back just a bit, alleviating, but not fully releasing the tension in the air. ¡°I¡¯m going to assume you have some damn good reasons behind that leap in logic. Or at least, what sounds like it. Because if you¡¯re just spouting nonsense for nonsense¡¯s sakes then you¡¯re a heck of a lot more foolish than what I took you for.¡± I let that hang in the air for a while, before shifting forward again to reapply the pressure. ¡°Now, I know you have your personal reservations against me, and I know I probably stand against a lot of what you inherently believe in by virtue of my mere existence. But I also know you consider yourself a player in the greater game. And no player worth their mettle or gilded titles is going to be spouting out rehashed rhetoric at a time where their very fate is on the line. Because I highly doubt you¡¯re the type to double down on the crap you¡¯ve been spouting when all the chips are down. You seem smarter than that, Ilunor. So tell me then. Explain to me how and why you were ordered to go full Fahrenheit 451 because of me.¡± To Ilunor¡¯s credit, he didn¡¯t budge an inch as I brought my full weight to bear. In fact, he seemed as composed as he was when he effortlessly flipped his persona back at the armory. There was a hint of fear in his eyes, though I couldn¡¯t tell if that was because of me, or because of this whole mess he was now embroiled in. Regardless, after giving my tirade its deserved airtime in silence, he eventually did respond. ¡°You are correct in distinguishing rhetoric from the practical concerns of the greater game, newrealmer.¡± His eyes sharpened further, trying his best to maintain eye contact through my opaque lenses. ¡°This is an important distinction to make, and one that even those amongst our ranks seem to struggle with at times.¡± There it was again. Another glimpse at Ilunor¡¯s courteous side. Or at least, the closest thing to courtesy that I¡¯d experienced from him so far, alongside the help with the chair. ¡°Suffice it to say, newrealmer, my benefactor was under a similar pretense when considering his options with you. For rhetoric would dictate that you have nothing to offer and thus nothing to fear from, at least, as it pertains to your interactions with the library.¡± He paused, before gesturing correctly to the pouch I had my card stored in. ¡°Yet reality says otherwise.¡± The Vunerian paused, taking a deep breath as he leaned back against his chair with a satisfying plumpf. ¡°In short, my benefactor acted in the way he did out of a universal motivator even you would understand. A motivator so primitive, so primal, that even the most stalwart of souls will find it difficult to act any differently under its vice grip.¡± Ilunor leveled his eyes my way once more, his gaze remaining nothing short of heavy and severe. ¡°Simply put, my benefactor acted out of fear, newrealmer. He was terrified of the threat you posed, and mortified of what you could do if given the opportunity.¡± I opened my mouth to respond, if only to ask about where exactly this fear stemmed from, but it only took me a few seconds to realize just where Ilunor was going with this. ¡°For you hold within your hands an information disparity the likes of which has never been seen in untold eons. You hold within your arsenal a weapon far greater than any magical tome, artifact, or crafted omens. You hold an information advantage, newrealmer. One that has the potential to incur a deficit never before seen with the library. A deficit which could be used to exchange for secrets the Nexus believes no adjacent realm has the potential to trade for, let alone a newrealm. For this is the first instance in history where another power poses the potential to upend the Nexus¡¯ stranglehold on the information deficit within the library. And whilst not all the information traded with the library is sensitive enough to pose a threat if learned, there are some which have the potential to. It was these highly specific pieces of information that I was tasked with burning, to prevent the potential of you trading highly sensitive information of your own, to learn of them. Because ultimately, my benefactor believed that you hold within your helmeted head information of equivalent enough weight and category to secure transactions which could not be tolerated.¡± So that¡¯s what it was¡­ fear. A fear of a new, completely alien force, upending an established order that had no equals or peers to speak of. It was the first time the Nexus had truly experienced something that even the UN truly lacked¡­ A contemporary of comparable parity. Another, truly foreign power, that could rival its primacy. Mal¡¯tory was clearly smart enough to see that, and smart enough to act upon it. Yet he still maintained that impregnable facade even when pressed with the truth. There was a lot more going on underneath the surface than I could¡¯ve ever imagined. ¡°So what exactly did you burn-¡± ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°The contract has¡­ protections afforded to certain actions, clauses on discretion. I wish not to dwell on this matter, newrealmer.¡± Ilunor let out a long sigh, one laden with specks and a bit of soot that blackend the table in front of us. His eyes languished on it, as it did on everything else he¡¯s spoken of thus far. Strangely enough, the Vunerian¡¯s sooty breath triggered yet another lightbulb in my head to light up, and another question that sorely needed answering. ¡°I gotta ask, Ilunor. How¡¯d you do it?¡± I finally managed out. ¡°It¡¯s the library we¡¯re talking about here. Fire couldn¡¯t have just burned away-¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just fire, newrealmer.¡± The Vunerian interrupted indignantly, as if he was offended by the fact I¡¯d called his dragon¡¯s breath mere fire. ¡°It¡¯s dragon¡¯s breath.¡± There it was. ¡°What¡¯s more, it wasn¡¯t just dragon¡¯s breath that did the killing blow.¡± Wait what? ¡°I was just as curious as you were about the mechanics of this, newrealmer. I was also under the impression that the library was something more than it was. As such I made my curiosities known to my benefactor. And considering just how highly specialized my role was for this mission, he granted me a small glimpse into just how this attack was possible. To my knowledge, dragon¡¯s breath is known to the library, and thus, the library has the appropriate means of countering its effects. That much is obvious. The library however, is vulnerable to what it doesn¡¯t know. And the Nexus has within its arsenal secrets that can, and clearly did, take advantage of this weakness. As such it wasn¡¯t just my flame that struck the blow. I was given an unknown substance I was instructed to consume. It changed my fire, turning into something even I don¡¯t recognize.¡± Ilunor clenched up at that, flinching as he mentioned this mystery substance, grimacing all the while. ¡°What¡¯s more, the books you see aren¡¯t simply books. The library, the entire construct, is an entity. The books are the physical manifestations of this ethereal entity¡¯s memories, ones that we can interact with. What I¡¯m trying to say here is that even the library is fallible, newrealmer-¡± ¡°-just as the Nexus is fallible.¡± I interrupted with a snide remark. ¡°That point is a matter of contention.¡± Ilunor, diplomatically, shot back, as we remained locked in a surprise staring match for a few tentative seconds. ¡°Right.¡± I managed out with a sigh, breaking the tension in the air. ¡°So who was it then? Who¡¯s this mystery benefactor behind all of this drama?¡± ¡°The same man that has seemingly become our peer group¡¯s collective enemy, newrealmer.¡± Ilunor shot back with a semi-sarcastic chuff. It didn¡¯t take me long to realize just who it was Ilunor was referring to. ¡°Mal¡¯tory?¡± I offered. But instead of a conciliatory nod, all I received was a slow, sarcastic clap in response. ¡°Very good, newrealmer. Very good.¡± I ignored that dismissive jab, pressing on as if it never happened at all, but not before shooting back a similar jab of my own. ¡°Well at least I wasn¡¯t the one dumb enough to sign a contract with the guy.¡± Ilunor, surprisingly, had nothing to say in response to that. But his disgruntled face was clearly against that bit of truth. ¡°Our black robed professor really has been working overtime over the past few days, huh?¡± I continued. ¡°He has been focused squarely on you, newrealmer. Perhaps you should be honored for garnering the undivided attention of a mouthpiece of the privy council.¡± Ilunor continued, once more in that darkly sarcastic tone of voice. These brief dives into sarcasm, as annoying and passive as aggressive as they were, felt more real than any of the interactions I¡¯d had with the Vunerian thus far. It genuinely felt that this was the real Ilunor, underneath all those layers of pomp, circumstance, and projected lackadaisical indifference. It almost felt as if this sort of passive aggressive back and forth was just typical to what he expected of a conversation. ¡°I¡¯d be flattered if I wasn¡¯t the center of his attention, to be honest.¡± I sighed back, garnering a single, barely distinguishable dismissive snicker from the blue thing. ¡°But that¡¯s beside the point. I have more questions, and I¡¯m expecting you to keep answering, Ilunor.¡± ¡°By all means.¡± ¡°The blanket, is it-¡± ¡°A one-of-a-kind magical artifact capable of completely hiding its user¡¯s presence? Why yes.¡± ¡°Who gave it to you?¡± ¡°Mal¡¯tory.¡± ¡°And what was it for?¡± ¡°To keep an eye on you and your misadventures. Or rather, that was the intent before the library debacle, it was very much useful for that whole escapade as well, given the information on its existence and function are likewise unknown to the library; on the count of being withheld.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± I managed out, and not wishing to disrupt the unexpected free-flow of information, pressed onward to take advantage of the Vunerian¡¯s surprising compliance. ¡°And the debacle at the armory?¡± ¡°Mal¡¯tory¡¯s attempt at making sure you demonstrated the capabilities of your weapon in full force, without purposely holding back.¡± Ilunor responded succinctly, almost too succinctly. ¡°The potential of inciting a major social faux-pas that could later be taken advantage of was also something of a secondary goal.¡± ¡°And the null?¡± I pressed further. ¡°I learned of its significance to you from the black-robed professor himself.¡± ¡°But why choose it over anything else?¡± I narrowed my eyes further. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? It was meant to trigger a response. And out of all the creatures I could¡¯ve projected, it was the most likely to do so.¡± The fact that he¡¯d be so open about inciting a response from a very recent trauma was equal parts infuriating as much as it was a breath of fresh air in frankness. ¡°Right.¡± I sighed loudly in response. ¡°So, what¡¯s with the burnt letters?¡± ¡°As much as I hate to admit it, this was purely the result of frustration. Frustration over my circumstances, and a means of venting that frustration in the most candid way possible.¡± The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. I narrowed my eyes at that. And whilst I could understand that explanation for the assembly letter, the mystery charred out letter underneath the Vunerian¡¯s snuggle pile was a different matter entirely. ¡°For both letters?¡± ¡°Both.¡± ¡°The second letter was one addressed to all students regarding the library, but I couldn¡¯t make out what the first one was. What was-¡± ¡°That is a matter not up for discussion, newrealmer.¡± The Vunerian put his foot down. Which made the contents of that mystery letter all the more intriguing, considering how he¡¯d been weirdly open with everything else so far. ¡°It is a personal matter. I hope you can respect that, as I am under the impression that we are currently discussing matters pertaining directly to the current circumstances plaguing our peer group. The letter¡­ is decidedly not one of those matters.¡± ¡°So it wasn¡¯t your contract with Mal¡¯tory or anything?¡± ¡°No. The holder of an agreement is the one in possession of such things.¡± ¡°So how¡¯d you know you were free from it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s an inherent feeling¡­ I can¡¯t expect you to understand these sorts of things given your¡­ your¡­¡± Ilunor turned around, and for the first time in the entire conversation, he finally broke eye contact to gaze at the air in indignant disbelief. ¡°... your self-purported and self-supposed mana-less status.¡± ¡°And on the topic of Mal¡¯tory, tell me why you did it. Why¡¯d you sign a pact with that sleazeball?¡± This question garnered a visceral reaction from the Vunerian, as he sighed, sinking deeper into his seat, claws running to the back of the armrests. ¡°I believe I¡¯d alluded to that enough, but if I need to spell it out, newrealmer, then I shall for the sake of this forthright exchange. To put it bluntly, the man played the oldest tactic in the book, he extorted me when the choices I had were to sign or to consign myself to oblivion. I¡¯ll let you guess which choice I made, newrealmer.¡± Another silence suddenly fell upon the both of us, as I let out a sigh of my own, gripping the bit of my helmet where my forehead should¡¯ve been. ¡°Ilunor, I have to ask.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± The Vunerian perked up, seemingly happy to be moving forward from that recent tangent, but no less jaded. ¡°You¡¯re not suddenly being open about all of this for no reason now are you? You¡¯re not doing this all for free.¡± ¡°I believed that much was obvious from the start, yes.¡± ¡°So what do you want?¡± I spoke curtly, cutting straight through the fat. To which the Vunerian seemed more than ecstatic to reciprocate. ¡°... a guarantee, newrealmer.¡± ¡°What sort of a guarantee?¡± ¡°A guarantee to defend the honor and integrity of this peer group.¡± I leaned forward once more, making it known that I wasn¡¯t about to take his wishy-washy attempts at noble legalese. ¡°And by peer group, you mean yourself.¡± I quickly clarified. ¡°The two are inseparable.¡± The Vunerian spoke with a sly grin. ¡°As the protections afforded to one extend to all within its ranks.¡± He paused, before making a final play. ¡°And isn¡¯t group cohesion what we need to survive the hostile conditions we find ourselves ensnared in?¡± It was at that point that I decided to push even further, calling the blue thing¡¯s bluff as I laid my cards down. ¡°What¡¯s stopping me from simply letting you burn, Ilunor?¡± I stated plainly, and uncharacteristically coldly, causing the Vunerian¡¯s cheeks to immediately drain of color. ¡°What¡¯s stopping me from letting this all play out the way that it should tomorrow?¡± Ilunor didn¡¯t respond for a few seconds, which only served to emphasize his answer when it did come. ¡°Uncertainty.¡± He responded cryptically. ¡°For if I¡­¡± He looked away, as if trying to physically hide from the very real possibility of his doomed fate. ¡°... were to be forcibly removed from the ranks of the group, another would have to take my place. For a peer group must maintain its numbers, even if it must be inflated by drawing from alternative pools.¡± The Vunerian¡¯s ultimatum quickly became clear, as the prospects of getting someone new slotted into the group was¡­ troubling. For how difficult would it be for the Academy to simply shove someone like Uven Kroven into our group? Someone who was fully bound by the soulbinding ritual, reduced to just a literal puppet? The Vunerian had his drawbacks, but at the very least, he wasn¡¯t a mindless zombie. If this conversation showed me anything, it demonstrated his ability to at the very least, save his own skin. Which brought me to a final talking point that I felt could serve to really dig into the blue thing¡¯s psyche. ¡°What do you even want me to do about this situation, Ilunor?¡± ¡°I¡­ I just assumed since you had a golden library card that-¡± ¡°That I could just talk to the library and sort this whole mess out?¡± ¡°Perhaps, I simply assumed-¡± ¡°But wouldn¡¯t that go against the Nexus¡¯ wishes?¡± I pushed further. ¡°It looks to me that in order to rectify this situation in your favor, I¡¯d have no choice but to go against the current Nexian agenda. And wouldn¡¯t that be something that you, a Nexian loyalist, would absolutely loathe?¡± ¡°That is a highly reductive way of analyzing the situation, newrealmer.¡± ¡°My point still stands. Why would you have me subvert the institutions and the authorities of the Nexus-?¡± ¡°Because practical concerns over my well being trump any pretenses of loyalty-bound decorum, newrealmer.¡± Ilunor spouted out with frustrated vitriol. ¡°I wish not to observe chivalry if it results in my demise. Especially if that demise was catalyzed by non-nexian actors, and propagated by flawed and failed representatives of the Nexian system.¡± There it was. What I expected to hear. But it still wasn¡¯t enough, at least not yet. Especially since these were just the first cracks in the Vunerian¡¯s indoctrinated worldview. I let out a sigh, before deciding to end things off here, at least for now. ¡°Right then.¡± I was under no false pretenses over what this current dynamic was, and given the Vunerian¡¯s track record so far, I wouldn¡¯t just give in on the whims of his demands even after he¡¯d revealed everything there was to know about his little escapades so far. I needed to fact-check his claims before I proceeded. And since I was in the driver¡¯s seat of these negotiations, I had every right and ability to let the Vunerian sit and reflect on his actions for a while as I did so. ¡°That¡¯ll be all.¡± ¡°What?¡± The Vunerian snapped back, seemingly blindsided by that answer. ¡°As I said, that¡¯ll be all for now, Ilunor.¡± I repeated without a hint of hesitation. ¡°Is this a refutation of my request?¡± Ilunor managed out nervously, as it was clear that this was his turn to be asking for points of clarification. ¡°No, it¡¯s me putting all of this on hold. At least for now. At least until I can get some second opinions on this whole thing.¡± ¡°But you have my word-¡± ¡°Your word doesn¡¯t really mean much right now, Ilunor.¡± I stated bluntly. ¡°You¡¯ll find that humanity, at least as we are right now, values evidence-based practices and objective methodology when it comes to committing to deals and decisions such as this. I¡¯m merely going to be¡­ conducting independent cross-sectional studies in an attempt to corroborate your claims in order to make the best informed decision on this matter.¡± I didn¡¯t know why, but it felt natural to be using Bureau and Academo-Speak against Ilunor right now, especially after all the dense noble speech that had been thrown my way thus far. It never occurred to me until now, however, how it seemed to be an almost mirrored version of High Nexian¡¯s Decorum-laden speech. Except whilst the latter was filled with fluff for fluff¡¯s sake, the former was information dense and filled with eclectic jargon-speak for the sake of getting the point across as dryly as possible. I began making my way out of the room, picking up the remnants of the burnt letters whilst doing so, as I left behind a dazed and confused Vunerian. No sooner did I arrive at the door did I feel a tug on my hand however. It was a forceful one, one that beckoned me to stay. ¡°Newrealmer, please-¡± I craned my head, despite not needing to do so due to my rearview camera. ¡°-I had no other choice. And now I have nowhere else and no one else to turn to. I understand full well the irony of the situation but please¡­¡± I could hear the breakdown of his facade cracking in the form of the squeaky pained breaths that just barely held back a voice on the verge of tears. I didn¡¯t know whether I was looking at crocodile tears, but something told me that I wasn¡¯t. Still, I had to be smart about this. I couldn¡¯t just take everything at face value. ¡°Just stay put for now, Ilunor.¡± I managed out through another sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll be back. I can promise you that much for now.¡±
Dragon''s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 17:00 Hours. Emma Booker Relaying all that there was to be relayed to the likes of Thacea and Thalmin took a little while. Most of that time was taken up by Thalmin¡¯s constant jabs at Ilunor¡¯s moral character and his personal integrity, with a few moments punctuated by Thacea¡¯s sharp and analytical questions. In the end, while we couldn¡¯t fully corroborate all that there was to corroborate regarding Ilunor¡¯s story, certain elements that actually mattered were more or less confirmed as legitimate; most notably the peer group system. Which is why we all came to the same, begrudging conclusion. ¡°The Academy will waste no time in replacing Ilunor with a far more agreeable agent to service their own ends. They will have learned from the lessons of the disgraced Mal¡¯tory, and simply opt for a pliable duplicant, in the stead of any contract-bound free agent.¡± Thacea concluded, garnering a constant, dulcet growl from Thalmin all throughout her short yet informative analysis. ¡°This works elegantly in their favor, utilizing the Vunerian as a convenient scapegoat, and replacing him with an unquestioning agent all in one fell swoop.¡± ¡°Which means the only means of preventing this outcome is to temporarily align our interests.¡± Thalmin begrudgingly spoke, practically shaking in place. ¡°For the alternative would be unacceptable.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± I managed out with a sigh. ¡°Alright then. We¡¯ll see what we can do. But the Ilunor situation doesn''t change our main objective. In fact, we might be able to kill two birds with-¡± I paused, my eyes immediately darting to Thacea as I corrected my course mid-way. ¡°-I mean, save two birds with one net.¡± I managed out sheepishly, garnering a questioning glare from Thalmin and a look of incredulous confusion from Thacea. ¡­ ¡°What I¡¯m trying to say is that we should just get going to the library.¡± I managed out, looking to the two for confirmation. Thacea was quick to nod, but Thalmin¡¯s gaze strayed towards the corridor leading to his dorm. ¡°I think it would be prudent if I stayed behind, to keep an eye on the Vunerian.¡± He announced. With a nod between the three of us, Thalmin began pacing towards his dorm, whilst Thacea and I finally resumed course for the library.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to the Library. Local Time: 17:15 Hours. Emma Booker We arrived at the checkpoint with quite a bit of attention, as a small crowd of students seemed to be loitering around the place either in an attempt to cross the bridge or simply to pass the time. The latter group seemed to be waiting around for some juicy drama to occur, if their whispers were any indication. ¡°I count 25 attempts so far.¡± ¡°5 counts of ¡®my father will hear about this!¡¯ And 20 counts of throwing around worthless names in hopes of getting through.¡± ¡°I swear, the announcement of the library¡¯s temporary closure has attracted all sorts of personalities who wouldn¡¯t even consider coming here otherwise.¡± ¡°It¡¯s all about faux-exclusivity. You make anything universally accessible and no one bats an eye. You close it, even temporarily, and the attention-seekers and egoists will flock to test their connections.¡± ¡°Oh, look! Another one!¡± ¡°Hmm? Oh that¡¯s the first-year, the one in the armor. Quite the eccentric I heard. But what can you expect for an uppity newrealmer trying to make their mark.¡± ¡°Shh! They¡¯re arriving!¡± The peanut gallery finally shut up as I was stopped just around the checkpoint¡¯s inspection booth. The same elf apprentice from before emerged, looking no worse for wear as he looked me up and down as if offended by the fact I¡¯d returned a quarter of a day later. ¡°You lot again?¡± He managed out with what I could only describe as a snarky nondescript British drawl. ¡°Not too bright are ya? Has the dean not made the situation clear enough for you?¡± He continued, as I allowed this to go on for just long enough before I pulled out my trump card. Thacea clearly noticed this, and gave me the side-eye as if to tell me just to get it over with. ¡°The Dean has made the situation very clear to me, sir.¡± I responded snarkily, refusing to clarify further. ¡°Oh? Has he now?¡± The man chuckled, before leaning in uncomfortably close. ¡°Then off with you lot then! Go on!¡± He shouted loudly, eliciting more murmurs from the gathered crowd still looking on from afar. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have no intention of leaving, sir. My intent is to cross this bridge.¡± I gestured politely to the gargoyle-filled pathway. ¡°As I intend on using the library¡¯s services today.¡± This seemed to be enough to elicit an indignant huff from the man, as he turned around to raise his hand, signaling a gargoyle, only to crane his head back to be met with a face full of library card. The gargoyle stopped in its tracks, and so too did the murmurs, as the collective attention of the entire open-air outcropping landed on me and the card between my fingers. ¡°As I said, the Dean has made the situation, and my inherent privilege as a patron of the library abundantly clear to me, sir.¡± I continued without skipping a single beat, causing the elf to all but lock up in complete and utter disbelief. He slowly, and tentatively, began reaching out a finger to touch the card, which I promptly pulled away from him for obvious reasons. ¡°Trust me.¡± I began. ¡°You don¡¯t want to do that.¡± With a wordless look of understanding, the man silently gestured for the rest of the gargoyles to give way, as the veritable army of stone creatures that had occupied the first half of the bridge took flight, allowing me the freedom to cross. ¡°Access granted, Madam¡­¡± ¡°Booker.¡± The man nodded once. ¡°Madam Booker. Now, let us not cause a ruckus, and let this be over with.¡± With no more words exchanged, I crossed the bridge without any issue. And after crossing the halfway point, the EVI once more started picking up chatter from around the checkpoint. The crowds were going wild.
The Library. Emma Booker This wasn¡¯t the same space I entered just a few days ago. In fact, part of me thought I¡¯d walked right into a trap, or some portal into an even darker dimension than the Nexus given the sheer whiplash of the change in internal design. Gone was the wide expansive stadium-like space of the library¡¯s reception. And gone were the nondescript fake windows that allowed in an otherworldly bright white light. In the place of solid blocks of white, and ornate panels of wood, were layers upon layers of cramped, tight, and claustrophobic cobblestone. The walls, the floors, even the roof were all entirely replaced by varying cuts of this lifeless gray facade, interspersed with the occasional dark accenting of obsidian and basalt. The place looked and felt more like a dungeon, or some sort of a medieval castle or outpost. That fact was further hammered home by the loud, shuffling of what I could only describe as pieces of platemail armor rattling against one another. I was expecting the grand entrance of something akin to Sorecar or one of his autonomous knights. Or perhaps some sort of a renaissance-age automaton. Instead, what emerged around the corner incited an opposite reaction to the fear and intimidation that everything was building up to. In fact, all of that melted away as I felt my heart being practically tugged out of my chest. And in a good way. As the being that rounded the corner was indeed clad in platemail, complete with a helmet and visor. But instead of standing at an intimidating 10 feet tall¡­ he instead stood just over a foot in height. ¡°Halt!¡± A familiar, squeaky voice emerged from within the fun-sized suit of quadrupedal armor. ¡°Who goes there?!¡± It continued, but stopped half way as a small black snoot emerged from the tip of the helmet, before pointing directly towards me. ¡°CADET EMMA BOOKER!¡± Chapter 49: Rules of Acquisition There I was. Finding myself face to face with a furball clad in armor, shaking so hard that its platemail generated this constant clattering drone that reminded me of a malfunctioning ultrasonic dishwasher loaded up with nothing but metal silverware. The armor-clad fox began splaying out its front paws, rearing up its hind paws, and arching its back and torso. What happened next was an inevitability most pet owners could relate to on an instinctive level. What happened next¡­ was a release of pure gremlin energy. [OBJECT INBOUND!] I watched on, unable to move, frozen not out of panic but out of an overwhelming sense of warmth and giddiness as I saw that streak of shiny silver making a mad-dash straight towards me; patches of red fur occasionally peaking through the crevices that formed in between each successive gallop. [OBJECT INBOUND!] I could¡¯ve reacted in time. But it wasn¡¯t like I needed, nor wanted to. [PROXIMITY ALERT!] I¡¯d already accepted my fate. [IMPACT DETECTED!] I felt the full force of 40 pounds of fox and platemail slamming right into my chestplate, followed up almost just as quickly by the always welcome feeling of four paw pads trying to gain purchase on my shoulders; haptic feedback doing a good job of relaying that sensation. It was around this time that I instinctively reacted by bringing both of my arms up right in front of my chestplate in a sort of a ¡®cradling¡¯ maneuver, prompting the now-cackling fox to simply plompf himself down from my shoulders and into my waiting arms. There, he began inexplicably squirming, the platemail armor he wore continuing to generate that rattly, clinking noise that was the bane of any spacer apartment. ¡°YOU¡¯RE BACK!¡± Buddy proclaimed, all the while unabashedly cackling and chuckling in absolute glee. ¡°BACK SO SOON!¡± The next half minute was dominated by a constant and unrelenting assault of lungfuls of intense laughter only a fox could manage. Yet as endless as that boundless excitement seemed to be, it eventually came to a stop with a resounding clatter of platemail, as Buddy jumped from my arms and straight onto the drab and dreary floors of gray cobblestone. ¡°How may I be of assistance for this visit, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The fox practically beamed at me, his forepaw making a point to lift up his slitted visor, revealing an excitable little face that managed to exude that on-brand look of polite eagerness that marked his entry back into ¡®work mode¡¯. ¡°Well, first of all¡­¡± I began, before lowering myself down to a single knee for one, very specific reason. To ruffle the red thing¡¯s head through the small gap in his helmet. ¡°... it¡¯s good to see you again, Buddy.¡± I spoke warmly, causing the library assistant¡¯s hind legs to wobble in place, before finally giving way as he melted into what I could only describe as a happy puddle of fox. I didn¡¯t intend on overstaying that warm greeting though, as I eventually pulled back my hand, causing the fox to almost immediately return to that polite customer service stance; awaiting my answer. ¡°Well, before we get straight to business, there¡¯s something I need to ask.¡± I continued, making vague sweeping hand gestures around me at the space that now resembled less of a library and more of an endless labyrinth, or a dungeon. ¡°Now correct me if I¡¯m wrong, but last I visited, this place didn¡¯t look like it was in desperate need of some interior redecorating.¡± I paused, before making a point to pat the little armored fox right on the flat of his helmet. ¡°And I¡¯m certain the last time I saw you, you weren¡¯t geared up for battle either.¡± The fox nodded affirmatively at both observations. ¡°Your memories serve you right, Emma!¡± Buddy yapped out excitedly. Yet that excitement wasn¡¯t destined to last, as his face seemed to darken the moment he started addressing the elephant in the room. ¡°What you see before you is the library¡¯s response to a grave misdeed. A misdeed that has left it scarred, for the first time in many, many years. I am sorry you had to see this, Emma. Especially with it being so soon since your last visit.¡± The fox apologized, which I responded to with a slow round of reassuring pats. ¡°Were you hurt?¡± The question, whilst simple, seemed to take Buddy by surprise. His eyes grew wide in a genuine look of confusion. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Were you caught up in whatever happened to the library? Were you hurt in the crossfire?¡± A small pause punctuated the interaction, as Buddy looked at me, increasingly confused. ¡°Are you inquiring about my physical well being, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± I nodded affirmatively. ¡°I¡­¡± The fox tilted his head. ¡°...was unharmed during those transgressions. Though it confuses me why you would wish to inquire about such a thing. I am simply your humble library assistant, one amongst an unfathomable number of others.¡± It was my turn to be taken aback by surprise, but whilst Buddy was so quick to disparage himself, I was just as quick in correcting his course. ¡°You may be right in saying that there are many more like you. But I know for a fact that not a single one of them can replace you, Buddy. You''re unique and one of a kind.¡± I immediately corrected the fox. ¡°You¡¯re my one and only buddy here.¡± I booped his snoot for good measure, before returning to standing height. ¡°And just for the record, you¡¯re more than just a library assistant to me. You¡¯re my buddy, Buddy.¡± I spoke with a smile behind the helmet. Buddy didn¡¯t respond for a few more seconds, his mouth now hanging agape, and his whole form unflinching. It was as if someone had decided to divide by zero deep within the poor thing¡¯s head. Whatever the case was, he eventually recovered from it seamlessly, as he took a few tentative steps closer towards my legs, and began nudging it affectionately and wordlessly. I simply let this exchange happen, not wanting to interfere, as Buddy did eventually pull back on his own volition. ¡°You grace me with the respect of a peerage I truly do not deserve.¡± Buddy responded with a genuine look of not just excitement or giddiness, but contentment. ¡°Thank you.¡± A few eyes poked from the eerie darkness that surrounded the room like a hazy fog, similar to my first encounter with Buddy a few days ago. It was around the same time I noticed them, that Buddy shifted course back to the business at hand. ¡°So! How may I be of assistance, Emma?¡± The whole exchange was over before I could even process what had happened. But whilst it left me with a lot of questions about Buddy himself, I just felt like it wasn¡¯t the right time to press the topic. He seemed comfortable enough to move on, and I respected that. ¡°I¡¯m here for a very specific purpose actually.¡± No sooner did I announce my intentions, did Buddy¡¯s eyes dart towards Thacea. ¡°Well, when I meant I, I sort of meant we.¡± I gestured to the both of us. ¡°We¡¯re sort of a package deal.¡± I could feel Thacea¡¯s eyes landing on me as quickly as I said that, which prompted me to crane my head towards her sheepishly, before quickly turning back to Buddy in order to quickly expand upon that statement. ¡°At least when it comes to these library visits, I mean.¡± I spoke with a nervous chuckle. Buddy nodded understandingly, before urging me to continue with a single head bob. ¡°Right, so, we¡¯re here to inquire about Minor Shards of Impart. More specifically, I want to know what they are, how they work, and where we can find them. Related information on the Nexus¡¯ Status Communicatia, at least as it pertains to the Minor Shards of Impart, is appreciated as well.¡± I stated my aims without once missing a beat. Whilst the latter topic wasn¡¯t explicitly necessary, it was still relevant enough that it didn¡¯t hurt to ask. I knew that Thacea had already provided me with more than an extensive rundown on it, but I also knew that her knowledge was ultimately limited to what her realm had access to. Which inevitably meant it was limited to what the Nexus had explicitly allowed to trickle down to them. The library¡¯s explanation would be a good benchmark to see just how accurate her intel was, and if there were any convenient gaps that were intentionally left out by the Nexus. I definitely didn¡¯t intend for the line of questioning to be a slight against Thacea, but it was clear she might not have taken it in stride as I saw her immediately side-eying me as soon as those words left my vocoder. Buddy¡¯s reactions however, were starkly different to how I¡¯d expected things to go. ¡°Hmm.¡± He began, placing a paw against the ¡®chin¡¯ of his helmet. ¡°And what would you wish to trade for this information, Emma?¡± Perhaps the owl¡¯s little lesson and pep talk had truly rubbed off on Buddy, as it was business from the get-go now, rather than the rambunctious and overexcitable generous offerings of Buddy¡¯s initial ¡®transaction¡¯. It was at this point that I realized the true meaning behind Ilunor¡¯s, or rather Mal¡¯tory¡¯s, fear of the information disparity that I presented. As idea after idea began pouring their way into my head. I felt like a kid in a candy store with how much I had to trade. Or keeping more in the spirit of things, like a loot-gremlin having returned to town with all the useless items she could carry. I could literally trade huge swathes of junk data, to accrue whatever library credit existed for this intel. And I was about to do just that. ¡°Within my repositories lies tens of billions of never before seen works of art and literature, hundreds of millions of unheard of musical compositions, and an abundance of information on the cultural arts. I am ready to trade a great number of them, as much as the library believes is fair.¡± I began, beaming out a constant smile all the while. It quickly became clear to me however that that smile and excitability wasn¡¯t as infectious as I thought. As Buddy merely stared at me with a decidedly worried, apprehensive expression. ¡°I am afraid that won¡¯t be possible Emma, at least not as it pertains to the topics pending inquiry.¡± Buddy whined out, as he pawed at the ground beneath his paws in a series of nervous strokes. ¡°It seems as if the time has come to finally divulge what the library wishes for me to divulge. To make up for the responsibilities that I¡¯d initially overlooked following the closure of our first transaction. Because whilst the Librarian has outlined the rules of the library to you, the Axioms of Trade, or the Rules of Transaction, were never truly disclosed. At least not explicitly.¡± He admitted, before turning towards the inky darkness behind him, one that had ominously moved in closer and closer, now completely obscuring the hall he¡¯d previously taken to get here. ¡°I hope you¡¯ll allow me to elaborate, to ensure all parties understand what is expected of them.¡± Yet as soon as that wall of darkness reached us, it stopped, forming what I could only describe as a bookshelf, one that grew larger and larger until it took up most of the visible space behind the fox. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 1000% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°The principles of transaction are simple. There are three critical axioms which govern it.¡± Buddy began, his voice shifting dramatically from that squeaky happy-go-lucky one to something more¡­ formal, almost too formal for the fox I knew. ¡°The first is Category.¡± The books on the bookshelf behind the fox began glowing in different colors, so many in fact that the EVI had to step in to highlight the differences between each one. ¡°The second is Weight.¡± The books began rattling in place now, as several of the same color-coded spines were brought out, now hovering in the air. ¡°And the third is Veracity.¡± Nothing happened at that last rule, at least not as far as I could tell. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 1000% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Though, it was clear this was probably a mana-stream thing, as Thacea began shaking in place, her winged arms wrapping themselves around her as she shivered uncontrollably. ¡°Category.¡± Buddy repeated, his voice slowly being enveloped by an eerie, chorus of other voices, as I saw hundreds, if not thousands more eyes poking through from the darkness. ¡°Definition: the classification of information into divisions, sections, and classes utilizing subject-matter as a tool for delineation. Do you have any queries on this point, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm?¡± All eyes were now focused on me, including Buddy¡¯s. His gaze was way more intense than it ever was before. Stolen novel; please report. I should¡¯ve felt intimidated, and whilst I was, I couldn¡¯t let the overbearing eeriness of the whole scene get to me. I knew full well this wasn¡¯t a Nexian game, but rather, a library matter. This was the library trying its best to bridge the information gap, to be as earnest as possible in ways completely alien to typical sensibilities. ¡°Yes, I actually do.¡± I began. ¡°So if I¡¯m getting this right, Category implies that different types of information go into different¡­ well, categories for lack of a better term. So for example, a book or a chapter on the topic of a mana-based city-destroying bomb will be categorically different from say¡­ a fictional novel on the life of a security guard working at a garishly themed restaurant haunted forever by the souls of its murdered victims?¡± The latter statement seemed to catch a few eyes off-guard, including Buddy¡¯s as he visibly cocked his head, before falling back in line with the rest of the chorus. ¡°Correct.¡± They all spoke, as color-coded books glowed in unison, as if to reiterate the point. ¡°Are there any further lines of inquiry on this rule?¡± ¡°So information being traded has to fit into the same category? So you can¡¯t trade, say, ten volumes of that fictional novel I mentioned for a mana-based city-destroying bomb?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°How about ten thousand volumes?¡± ¡°The answer remains unchanged. Are there any further lines of inquiry on this rule?¡± ¡­ ¡°How about a million?¡± Several small beady eyes began darting back and forth between one another in the inky darkness. Not so much in deliberation, as much as in confusion and genuine surprise, as if they weren¡¯t expecting there to be that many works of cultural art I had access to on-hand. Not especially on such an obscure subject matter. But humanity has been nothing if not busy in creating anything and everything on every topic imaginable, especially in the realm of fiction. ¡°The answer remains unchanged. Are there any further lines of inquiry on this rule?¡± ¡°Yeah, who determines the nuanced differences in categories? What if two topics are very close to one another?¡± ¡°The library, or the Librarian.¡± Of course. ¡°Are there any further lines of inquiry on this rule?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Very well, moving on.¡± The voices spoke in unison, before opening several of the floating books they¡¯d pulled from the shelves earlier, revealing within them illegible scribbles of varying fonts and lengths. Despite not being able to make out what was written, the differences between what was being shown was clear. Certain books had large fonts with barely any words written in them at all, whilst others were packed dense with information, complete with diagrams, illustrations, and pictures that made no sense to me or the EVI. It was clear they were showing all of these to illustrate a point. ¡°Weight. Definition: the significance and value of any given information based upon its quantity, quality, and density. Do you have any queries on this point, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm?¡± I nodded, raising my hand up as if I was in the middle of a lecture. ¡°So, basically, what you¡¯re saying is what¡¯s being traded has to have the same amount or density of information as what¡¯s being requested? So there has to be some sort of an equivalence when it comes to what¡¯s requested and how much is given in return during a transaction?¡± ¡°Correct. Are there any further lines of inquiry on this rule?¡± ¡°So, going back to my previous example. Suppose I request for say¡­ a Nexian murder mystery novel, does that mean that my aforementioned novel would be sufficient for that transaction?¡± ¡°A word for a word, a paragraph for a paragraph, a book for a book, an anthology for an anthology¡­¡± The chorus paused, as they once more turned to one another to deliberate on their next answer. With an audible sigh, and a series of nervous murmurs, they continued. ¡°... a million novels, for a million novels. Are there any further lines of inquiry on this rule?¡± ¡°Yeah, a big one actually. The last transaction I made at the library didn¡¯t actually involve these draconian rules. I didn¡¯t trade anything I felt was equivalent to the null with you guys. Not in category, and not even in weight. So, I¡¯m curious as to how the rules applied to that?¡± This question definitely got the army of foxes thinking, but no sooner did the instant-responses go silent did the silent space suddenly fill the sound of rustling feathers, this was followed sharply by a series of hoots and the emergence of a massive shadow looming overhead, before finally, revealing none other than the librarian himself. ¡°Librarian.¡± I nodded respectfully in greetings. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The owl did the same, his tone more or less matching my own. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you wanted to address this question yourself.¡± ¡°Indeed I do, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The owl nodded, all the while, taking a few short moments to land softly upon Buddy¡¯s armored head. ¡°But for the purposes of this dialogue, I first must ask, do you know what the library is?¡± ¡°Yeah, I do. I was informed it¡¯s not just a neat little collection of books, an institution, or an organization in the typical sense. It¡¯s an entity, a living, breathing being in its own right.¡± The owl tentatively dipped his head, not so much nodding, as much as partially accepting that answer. ¡°These presuppositions are acceptable enough to proceed.¡± He spoke through a series of careful, methodical, hoots. ¡°The library is, as you may have already gathered, not omnipotent. Yet by that very same metric, neither is it comparable to anything within the mortal plane. It is removed from such things, yet undeniably connected to it by virtue of its goals. This is why it decided to act the way it did on that fateful day. This was why at face value, it might have seemed to have foregone the Axioms of Trade with its first interactions with you.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 1000% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS I suddenly felt the whole room shake, as the impossibly large bookshelf behind Buddy suddenly gave way, leading to a literal hallway of books. The walls of which abruptly, and without warning, flew by us, running parallel to us like two subway trains flanking a central platform; the speed of which blew Thacea¡¯s feathers into a ruffled mess. ¡°For you see Cadet Emma Booker, the library despite its boundless wisdom, despite its worldly knowledge, despite its ethereal insight, despite all that it has experienced¡­ could simply not make heads or tails of you.¡± The ¡®walls¡¯ of books flew by faster and faster, as if trying desperately to reach some unknown destination, or more accurately, in search of knowledge that simply wasn¡¯t there. ¡°For in the boundless eons that it has stood, from scantily a tent in the middle of the untamed plains, to the grand spire you see before you, it has never, ever encountered a being such as you.¡± The walls suddenly, and inexplicably, came to a stop. Reaching what seemed to be a surprisingly uniform collection of books. All of which were bound with a familiar hue of blue. ¡°A being clad in armor completely resistant to mana.¡± The librarian concluded. ¡°This novelty inevitably brings with it complications. For it prompts the one, final, yet just as critical component of the Axioms of Trade to become all but an impossibility. I am of course talking about the final piece to the trifecta. Veracity.¡± That last word reverberated throughout the room, as the owl, the foxes, and even Buddy spoke in unison in that same, echoey, otherworldly voice. ¡°Definition: the authenticity and credibility of any given knowledge, ascertained by the ebbs and flows of the mana stream, and by the reading of the mind at the moment of transaction.¡± ¡°For you see, Cadet Emma Booker, your mere existence prevents the fulfillment of this final axiom. The library, and indeed all of its aides, simply could not determine anything about your mana-streams, let alone the mind hidden underneath that helm. With this third axiom unfulfilled, trade ceases to be a possibility.¡± ¡°And yet here I am.¡± I announced at the tail end of the owl¡¯s explanations. ¡°Card in tow.¡± I pulled out my card, clinking it against my helmet. ¡°And intel in hand.¡± ¡°And for very good reason, Cadet Emma Booker. The library is nothing if not astute in its observations. It understands well the inconsistencies that arise from the nature of your very existence. It grasps the significance of a mana-less being in a mana-resistent suit. It finds that a distressingly large gap exists between the existence of your presence, your metals, your mathematics, your sophistication, and the manner in which you attained it. It understands that it sees just the tip of the iceberg, and thus, realizes that there exists a wealth of knowledge lying in wait beneath the surface. To deny the possibility of trade due to the lack of the third axiom¡­ would be refutation of its sole purpose, and would be a contradiction of the first and third rules of the library. As a result, it wished to engage in trade without the third axiom. It instead chose to rely not on the word of the patron, but on the irrefutable truths garnered through observable phenomena.¡± The owl gestured towards Buddy, using a talon to boop his snoot. ¡°That is why your Buddy was allowed to utilize all manner of senses to draw from, to determine the physical properties of your armor. That is why I had scrutinized the odd and idiosyncratic nature of your speech, finding beneath it a mathematical construct advanced beyond measure. That is why it was noted time and time again how your very presence was enough to facilitate trade. As these pieces of information were objective and observable, and thus their veracity was self-evident by virtue of their existence.¡± So that¡¯s what it was. The library was trying to find any way possible to trade with me. It was scrambling, probing and feeling for any way to facilitate fair trade without the ability to read minds. So it landed on good old empirical observation. It¡¯s kind of funny how it landed on one of the fundamentals of the scientific process when dealing with a representative of a world of science. Still, that doesn¡¯t entirely line up with one sticking point¡­ ¡°But that doesn¡¯t address my initial question.¡± I shot back. ¡°Sure, the library was able to extrapolate all of that new knowledge from my very presence. But how was that knowledge in any way in the same category or weight as the null and all of the other related questions I had?¡± The owl¡­ smiled. I didn¡¯t know why, or for what reason, but as soon as that question left my vocoder, it seemed even more engaged than it was before. ¡°To put it simply, Cadet Emma Booker¡­ they were not. Or rather, the categorical equivalence that could traditionally be drawn, was stretched. As I have stated, trade in the traditional sense would have nominally been an impossibility. All transactions on that fateful day were-¡± The owl paused, his eyes peering upwards, towards nothing the EVI or its cameras could detect. However, given how fixated his eyes were on this empty patch of space, it was clear he was looking at something. ¡°-a trial. A trial to see if trade was even possible given the lack of the third axiom. Determining Category and Weight are decidedly simple. Veracity, however, was a sticking point that needed to be resolved. Thus, the former two issues were temporarily waived, to facilitate the determination of the possibility of the latter.¡± ¡°So the library was playing fast and loose with the rules?¡± ¡°Rules exist in response to a reality that is known, Cadet Emma Booker. Should that reality change, the rules must adapt to fit that new reality. For the library is eternal-¡± ¡°For the library is eternal.¡± The voices of a thousand foxes once more filled the space, echoing the owl¡¯s statement. ¡°-and in order to be eternal, one must evolve.¡± I paused for a moment, taking into consideration everything so far. The library, once again, was demonstrating itself as a complete other to the Nexus¡¯ status quo. It was actively acknowledging the nature of my existence and what that meant for its worldview. However, unlike the Nexus, it wasn¡¯t resisting those changes. In fact, it actively adapted to them, trying everything it could to do so seamlessly. It wasn¡¯t just another Nexian construct, committed to the rules that it followed and bent on a whim for malicious aims. Instead, it was its own being. One that adapted and evolved to service one, singular purpose: to collect information, and nothing more. In a way, it was refreshingly honest. Especially as it still attempted to play fair. Which I could definitely respect. ¡°So with all that being said, I¡¯m assuming that the three rules now apply to me? The library¡¯s now set on how it wants to move forward with future transactions?¡± I clarified, to which the owl nodded once in response. ¡°Correct, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°So, the first two rules, Category and Weight, apply to this transaction?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m assuming you have something in mind for Veracity.¡± ¡°Correct. Henceforth, the library shall utilize a model of objective interpretation when it comes to transactions involving your patronage. Except, of course, for records of culture, history, and works of fiction.¡± ¡°So to put it simply, you want me to show proof for the stuff I have to trade.¡± ¡°Correct.¡± I breathed in deeply, nodding all the while. The owl took this lull in the conversation to move forward with my inquiry. ¡°Are there any points you require clarifying, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then let us proceed.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 1000% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The whole room shifted once more, the darkness that had surrounded us receded quickly, along with the impossible bookshelf that flanked our sides. However, instead of returning to that stark dungeon aesthetic, the library¡­ librarian¡­ or whatever was in charge of the changes was opting instead to return to the library as it had been before the remodeling. Gone were the stark grays and blacks, replaced instead by solid blocks of white, warm wood grain accents, and most welcome of all, the ominous windows pouring light in from an endless white abyss. ¡°Your inquiry was on the topic of Minor Shards of Impart, more specifically, what they are, how they work, and where they can be found. Related information on the Status Communicatia as it pertains to the Minor Shards of Impart, is a secondary addendum. Is that correct, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And what would you wish to trade for this information?¡± I let out a long breath, prodding around my brain for something that might be equivalent enough for the library to accept. Something that was in a similar Category. Something that had enough Weight. Something that I could prove right here and now. I reached for my helmet¡¯s side, if only to find my hand bonking off of the side of it, flicking one of the sensor antennae in the process. That¡¯s when it hit me. "How would you like to know about the concept of ''radio¡¯?" Chapter 50: Radio Killed the Magic Star My question didn¡¯t linger in the air for long. In fact, it was almost immediately reciprocated, but not by the owl, Buddy, nor any other voice. Instead, it was reciprocated by a long, dull droning sound; one that shook the entire building to its core. A sound that was as otherworldly as the noise generated by a warp drive revving up to full power. This was soon followed by thousands of distinct large thumps, as heavy, leather bound books smacked across an untold number of desks, tables, and plush leather armchairs not too dissimilar to the ones found in Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office. Except instead of the dark, brooding, and foreboding atmosphere of that Victorian-themed nightmare, there was a certain magical nature to the whole scene. The presence of a thousand or so foxes flipping through untold pages at blistering speeds definitely helped to offset the otherwise bizarre and ominous nature of it all. ¡°Radio.¡± The owl parroted back, in exactly the same tone and enunciation I¡¯d used. ¡°Radio.¡± The room of foxes responded back in unison, their page-flipping continuing for a solid few minutes before it all inexplicably came to a stop as suddenly as it began. With a resounding thump of tens of thousands of books closing all at once. The veritable army of foxes would come to meet the owl¡¯s questioning gaze, each and every one resolving to a pout and a shake of their heads as soon as their eyes met the owl¡¯s. The whole library began producing another long, dull droning. As the foxes that had appeared with books in tow, all ran off back into unseen and unknown corners and crevices, completely disappearing from even the EVI¡¯s sensor feeds. It was now just Buddy and the owl resting atop his head that remained. The owl in particular quickly took charge once more. ¡°Radio.¡± He repeated. ¡°Subject matter classification-¡± ¡°-Communication.¡± I quickly interjected, taking literally no one except for Buddy completely off guard, the armored fox cocking his head from side to side; his face locked in a perpetual expression of confusion and curiosity. ¡°That¡¯s what this whole trade boils down to, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I asked rhetorically, garnering a tentative nod from the owl in response. ¡°An artificial means of augmenting communication, all in an attempt to address a problem that plagues all civilizations. A problem that becomes all but a guaranteed issue for any would-be organized group wishing to maintain any hope of cohesion beyond the sight lines of a town or village. Because the moment when you set your sights on organizing, controlling, and maintaining people and lands beyond the sight lines of your hall, keep, or castle, is the moment when you realize that we¡¯re all fundamentally limited by the same thing¡­ our ability to get information from one place to another. For the greater the extent of your claims, and the further you expand your reach, the more difficult this task becomes. So for an empire as expansive and as grand as the Nexus-¡± I spoke in a half-condescending, somewhat sarcastic tone, realizing well that doing so wouldn¡¯t incur any faux pas¡¯ with the library. ¡°-this becomes a pertinent issue.¡± I paused, taking a moment to regard all eyes in the room before continuing. ¡°I know this¡­ we know this¡­ because we¡¯ve experienced the same growing pains back home.¡± There were no gasps of surprise this time around, as the captive audience of foxes and the lone owl seemed captivated rather than shocked. In fact, even Thacea¡¯s expression remained similar enough to the owl in composure. Though I knew that was more than likely the result of her stoic poker face, and was most definitely not representative of what was probably brewing underneath the surface. ¡°I¡¯m sure we had some parallels in this regard, I¡¯m sure the Nexus wasn¡¯t always capable of long distance communication using crystals. I¡¯m sure someone had to have had the brilliant idea of running the distance between two towns. And I¡¯m sure this eventually evolved into relying on the endurance of a horse, the speed of a pigeon, and the skill of a courier as time progressed. However, there had to have been a breaking point. A point where your ambitions grow beyond the limitations of these crude, analog, and primitive means of addressing the physical information gap. A point where these systems become fundamentally inadequate if you wish, hope, and desire for more. So whilst the Nexus dabbled in solutions to this issue utilizing magic, with their crystals and teleportation spells, we instead branched off into a completely different path; a road less taken.¡± ¡°A road not defined or limited by the skills of a mage, but created, maintained, and refined by the sacrifices of generations of scholars and researchers.¡± ¡°Because we didn¡¯t have the abundance of mana to work with, nor were we born with the innate gift of mana-manipulation. Heck, our world doesn¡¯t even have any mana to begin with. We were, and still are, a mana-less people, with no less of a desire to expand, progress, and push forward our reach as the Nexus clearly did. Our ambitions could not be tempered by the supposed reality of our situation. Our sights were always set upon the next hill. Our hearts were always drawn to the next horizon. Our destiny was always to cross the distance of oceans. Regardless of if they were oceans of water or oceans of stars. It¡¯s not in our nature to sit idly by, and we definitely were not willing to accept the limitations imposed upon us by the natural world. So we pushed forward. Each generation dedicating their lives to the observation and study of reality, and each generation making gradual, consistent improvements by harnessing everything from the world around us, using our understanding of its rules to construct a reality we wanted to see, all in service of our own aims.¡± I took a deep breath at the end of my preamble, just in time for the building around us to once again drone and creak loudly, giving the owl pause as he addressed me just as the noises settled. ¡°So in a similar vein to how magic and the magical arts were constructed to observe, understand, and to eventually manipulate the fundamental forces of the universe, so too did Earthrealm do this with another set of fundamental cosmic paradigms?¡± The owl shot back questioningly, his eyes burrowing through my opaque lenses not with predisposed doubt and scrutiny, but with a fiery curiosity barely contained behind those spheres of amber. ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°And you do not call this magic?¡± ¡°No, in fact, that term is exclusively used for impossible flights of fantasy; reserved for the realm of fiction and the imagination. Only now are we seeing that it is, in fact, a very real reality. A reality that we were not able to actualize, for reasons that are now very clear to us.¡± ¡°So if not magic, then what? What is the name of your systematic study of the fundamental forces?¡± ¡°We call this discipline: science.¡± I began, accentuating that last word in particular. ¡°And we call the practical application of the principles derived from its scholarly endeavors: technology.¡± A long drone punctuated that answer, the owl purposefully pausing as if to seemingly listen to it. ¡°And this is how you discovered and harnessed the radio.¡± The owl tentatively responded. ¡°It is another one of your systems of technology, derived from these roundabout observations founded in your science.¡± He concluded. To which I could only nod in reply. ¡°Correct. So in a similar manner to how the Nexus has uncovered the secrets of magic utilizing their innate gifts, so too have we uncovered the fundamental principles which govern our own reality, using tools and ingenuity to bridge the gap where our physiologies could no longer take us. We discovered that reality can be broken down further than the observable world, and that anything and everything is composed of constituents imperceptible to the senses. Senses which evolved only to be good enough, imbuing us with as much fidelity that was needed to facilitate our physical survival and nothing more. Yet we, as sapient beings, could never be satiated with just good enough. We discovered proof of a reality beneath the one we see, the building blocks of the world we touch, feel, and interact with on a daily basis. We discovered the microcosmos, the constituents of the world on a scale so small that a single grain of sand¡¯s basic components can be counted in the quintillions.¡± I took a moment to breathe, before slowly and methodically, I began shaking my head. "But that wasn¡¯t good enough for us. That just wasn¡¯t enough.¡± I continued, my voice carrying with it the bottled up passion and excitement of five thousand years of unrepentant progress. ¡°We were hungry, ravenous, and above all else furiously curious for more. So we kept digging down, deeper and deeper, smaller and smaller still, because we knew above all else that if the microcosmos was real, then it had to end somewhere.¡± ¡°And eventually, after centuries of searching, we finally found it. Within the science we dub physics, we discovered what we call the fundamental forces. The basic fundamentals that could not be broken down into further constituents except by virtue of mathematical extrapolation. This handful of fundamentals, which I shall be sparse on for now, act as laws determining how the fundamental building blocks of reality itself interact and decay. And it was within one of these fundamentals, what we refer to as electromagnetism, that we unlocked the ultimate potential of communication¡­ the radio.¡± I paused once more, as I rummaged through one of my pouches in preparation of what was to come. ¡°For within electromagnetism, we learned that there existed invisible and imperceptible¡­ waves of energy. Waves of energy derived from and emitted as a result of other properties of the fundamental physical building blocks of the microcosmos. Suffice it to say, we harnessed these invisible waves of energy. We learned to imbue them with information using tools and machines capable of sending and receiving these waves of energy. These¡­ radio waves as we call them.¡± ¡°I can appreciate a straightforward system of etymology.¡± The owl finally responded, adding his two cents after intensely scrutinizing every word that had come out of my mouth thus far. ¡°Yeah, our scientists tend to be a lot more¡­ on the nose when it comes to naming conventions.¡± ¡°With all of this being said, Cadet Emma Booker, I do require proof of this concept. Do you have anything which we may observe which could serve as evidence to these claims?¡± I grinned excitedly, before pulling out the same earpiece I¡¯d given to Thalmin earlier. ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask.¡± I outstretched my hand towards both Buddy and the Librarian, revealing an unassuming device that the pair looked at with varying levels of scrutiny. Buddy in particular was practically shaking with excitement, though it was clear the owl was holding him back from going all in. ¡°This is the most straightforward example I can come up with on short notice.¡± I began. ¡°It¡¯s a two-way variable-range transceiver. Now, I want you to try¡­¡± I paused, before using one of my other hands to vaguely gesture at the air around it. ¡°... sensing for its mana-streams, or lack thereof. As far as I know, everything magical in the Nexus requires mana to function right?¡± I recalled my back and forths with Sorecar, and all of the artifices and magical implements the Nexus was capable of producing en masse. ¡°Correct, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°It¡¯s logical then to assume that a communications device such as the minor shard of impart or anything within the status communicatia would likewise require mana to function. Either in the form of a-¡± I paused, turning to the EVI for support. ¡°EVI, what were the mana battery things Sorecar mentioned?¡± ¡°Mana Ducts for the siphoning of ambient mana, Mana Ampoules as a portable mana-battery analogue, and enchanted cores.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± I spoke internally, before continuing on seamlessly with the owl. ¡°-mana duct, mana ampoule, or some form of enchantment, correct?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± The owl nodded in response. ¡°So with all that being said, I¡¯d like Buddy to take a good sniff of this, see if there¡¯s any mana trickery or magical shenanigans going on. I want to prove that this tool of communication, this Radio, can work without mana.¡± I offered, causing Buddy to crane his eyes up towards the Librarian expectantly, just waiting for the go-ahead. A nod of approval from the Librarian was all that was needed for Buddy to absolutely go nuts, as all that pent-up energy went towards his more than eager attempts at data-collection. Though to be fair, data-collection was probably the last word I¡¯d use to describe the fox¡¯s antics, because in truth all this really amounted to was copious amounts of sniffing, and the occasional gentle booping. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Given the reality of the situation... I think I''d rather stick with data-collection when describing the scene in my report. The auditors could watch the vid-logs for themselves if they wanted to dispute that. ¡°NO MANA FOUND! SO MANY UNKNOWN MATERIALS! METAL AND NOT-METAL! CERAMIC AND NOT-CERAMIC! AND A SQUISHY!¡± Buddy exclaimed, panting excitedly as his forepaws buzzed in a little dance that caused the owl to clack his talons hard against his helmeted head, bringing him down from that overexcitable high. ¡°You¡¯ve proven your point, Cadet Emma Booker. The artifice in your palm is indeed not imbued with mana, but is in fact, constructed of a great number of other unknown materials.¡± The Librarian nodded approvingly. ¡°So how do you wish to use this artifice to provide proof to your claims?¡± He just as quickly threw the ball back to my court. ¡°By simply demonstrating that it works without mana.¡± I answered with a shrug. ¡°And if Buddy¡¯s willing, by using him as the other end of the receiving signal.¡± No sooner did I say that did Buddy react immediately, vibrating in place, causing his platemail armor to once again generate that distinctive rattling noise. ¡°I¡¯m going to take that as a yes?¡± I shot back, not so much towards Buddy, but towards the owl who nodded once in reply. Taking that as a yes, I continued. ¡°Right, so, the earpiece has an effective range of about¡­ four miles, five if we¡¯re pushing it. Though I¡¯d prefer if we found a space where there¡¯s no obstacles in the way in order to maximize the-¡± That low dulcet rumbling returned, as the whole room once again began shaking to its core. This time, the very atrium we were standing in suddenly expanded, stretching impossibly long to the point where I actually felt nauseous and disoriented by the sudden shift in perspective. I felt like I was in one of those weird reality-bending VR sims, or one of those MC Escher paintings where the geometry and architecture of a room was just wrong. Before me laid an atrium that was now stretched about five miles in a single direction, with a mysterious shadowy fog artificially obstructing the render distance in any direction but forward. ¡°Will this distance be sufficient?¡± The owl asked, pulling me right out of my brain fog. ¡°Erm, yeah, that¡¯ll do.¡± I managed out, before kneeling down to Buddy¡¯s height. ¡°So here¡¯s my plan, I¡¯ll affix the device to Buddy¡¯s ear, and he¡¯ll go down five miles in that direction.¡± I pointed down the impossibly long hall. ¡°Then, I¡¯ll speak into my own internal radio.¡± I pointed at my helmet¡¯s mouthpiece. ¡°And if everything works well, then you¡¯ll have your proof.¡± The owl nodded once, before taking off, pulling with him Buddy¡¯s helmet, giving me full access to his furred head. The excitable fox was barely capable of holding still as I began the awkward process of putting the device onto an anatomy it wasn¡¯t meant for. However, with a bit of effort, and a lot of finagling with the excess silicone straps, it finally fit snugly in place. Taking a step back, I couldn¡¯t help but to smile as the little thing looked like he¡¯d just walked straight out of a Space Vulpine game. All he needed now was a single eyepiece to complete the look. ¡°Alright. Ready?¡± I asked, to which Buddy nodded eagerly, before turning to the owl for final approval. With a nod from the librarian, the little thing zipped to my right, going behind a bunch of bookshelves, before suddenly, and without warning, appearing right down the newly elongated hall. ¡°Did he just teleport-¡± ¡°That is outside the scope of this discussion, Cadet Emma Booker. Now, please proceed with the demonstration.¡± The owl spoke with more than a hint of eagerness. ¡°Alright.¡± I let out a breath. ¡°Here goes nothing.¡± I blinked towards my right, the gesture being enough to activate a secure channel. A stylized image of an earpiece popped onto my HUD completely green and with full bars. ¡°Hello Buddy, can you hear me?¡± I spoke, as to my horror and dread I realized I suddenly blew it again. The first words through a radio in the Nexus¡­ or more accurately, in the library¡­ would now forever be recorded as Hello Buddy¡­ Buddy, however, almost immediately defused that train of thought with a series of excitable cackles that came in loud and clear over the airwaves. ¡°I CAN HEAR! I CAN HEAR IN MY RIGHT EAR! THE VOICE IS COMING FROM THE ARTIFICE ITSELF! LIBRARIAN! LIBRARIAN! EMMA WAS RIGHT! THIS IS A COMPLETELY NOVEL FORM OF MANA-LESS COMMUNICATION! AHAHAHAHA!¡± The rest of Buddy¡¯s rambles were a collection of indistinguishable noises that ranged between outright cackles and pure unadulterated wheezes of excitement. ¡°So it would seem.¡± The Librarian spoke with a surprising degree of composure, though his eyes betrayed a look of a 20th century entrepreneur having discovered yet another marketable discovery. ¡°Now, I must clarify a few things, Cadet Emma Booker. For the purposes of Category, and not so much Weight.¡± ¡°Alright. I¡¯m all ears.¡± ¡°Is this¡­ communication, limited to a realm? I ask for the sake of categorical consistency. For you ask for information on the minor shards of impart and the status communicatia, both of which are inter-realm communication methods. As I see it, this radio, whilst impressive, may be lacking in that regards.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to grin underneath my helmet, for the final play I had stored for this eventuality. ¡°What do you define as a realm?¡± ¡°For the purposes of this exchange, it is a plane of existence bounded by earth and sky.¡± ¡°Then, no.¡± I grinned. ¡°Radio waves travel way beyond the confines of earth and sky.¡± The owl, for the first time, visibly shifted at this. Something was happening behind its eyes. As its head began tilting ninety degrees from side to side. ¡°Purposely, or as a result of its natural characteristics?¡± The owl questioned sharply. ¡°Both. But nowadays, we intentionally beam these waves of energy back and forth, not just within the confines of our sky, but to bodies beyond its reach.¡± ¡°To bodies beyond the sky that binds you?¡± The owl looked at me once more, eyeing my arms, then Thacea¡¯s wings. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°For what purpose?¡± Here was my chance. ¡°To communicate beyond the confines of what the Nexus might consider a single realm. To communicate with bodies likewise bound by earth and sky, or no sky at all. To communicate with others like me that inhabit the heavens and beyond. In short: to communicate to those beyond my realm. And isn¡¯t that what Status Communicatia is all about?¡± Buddy at this point had all but stopped moving. His body went rigid, as it looked as if he was about to fall flat on his side. It was only due to the aid of several more foxes that he remained upright, and was promptly carried over to the ever growing congregation of foxes that encircled me. ¡°And your people, inhabiting the heavens, clarify: how, why, and for what purpose?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid that is beyond the scope of this exchange.¡± I answered promptly and without a twinge of hesitation. The owl, instead of seeming offended, hurt, or in any way indignant from that response, merely stared at me with respect, before nodding once. ¡°That it is.¡± It spoke, not pressing the matter further. ¡°But with all that being said¡­¡± The owl continued, edging towards a new point. ¡°There is one discrepancy that delineates this novel method of communication from the Status Communicatia.¡± ¡°And that is?¡± ¡°Your methodology, relying on this fundamental force of nature. It is still bound by the limitations of physical distance is it not?¡± My heart skipped a beat at that, taken aback by the owl¡¯s comprehension and dissection of the concept he¡¯d just learned. ¡°Any physical force of nature is bound to the limitations of its laws. I observed that there existed a noticeable delay between the moment you spoke and the moment your assistant received those words. A slight delay, but still one that has grave implications. For it establishes the precedent that these waves of energy, these radiowaves, travel at a certain speed, and thus are beholden to the limitations imposed by the infinite nature of physical space. This is in contrast to the Minor Shards of Impart which relies on a methodology that does not necessitate the crossing of physical space, thus making the two methods of communication fundamentally incompatible. So as novel as your explanation is, I am afraid that the information I can provide will be limited to methods analogous to your own, of which there are many, including Tethers, Flares, and Puddlejumping for instance.¡± ¡°So you want an equivalent of a means of communication that manages to skirt past the fundamental limitations of physical space as a limiting factor?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± The owl clarified, leading to a silence that even he seemed to believe could not be filled. ¡°We have that too.¡± The room audibly buckled at that, as more beady eyes emerged from the shadows, each and every one transfixed on my vocoder. The whole world seemed to stop, as even the owl¡¯s beak remained slightly ajar, his feathers even puffing up a bit before receding. ¡°Explain.¡± The owl urged. ¡°In our race to expand across the heavens, we came across the issue which you speak of. The fundamental limitations of relying on a methodology inherently bound to the rules of the physical space it must physically bridge. This was unacceptable to our government, especially given our governing laws on the welfare of the state and its citizenry. A state must be capable of reacting, responding, and reliably administering its reach within its own borders without fail. Traditional communication using radio waves would be insufficient to these ends. We learned that lesson across our tentative first few steps across the stars. Thus, we created another method. A way of skirting around this physical limitation. We came across what we refer to as quantum entanglement, and using that principle, created what is now known as the QE Network. A method of communication that completely circumvents the limitations of space, binding two particles in two points in space together by an unseen tether, whereby the movement of one elicits the movement of another. These small shifts can be manipulated. And thus, like radio, can be used to transmit concepts using encoding and deciphering. All of this, without needing to physically bridge the gap. All of this being instantaneous.¡± I paused, taking a huge breath after that spiel, turning to the owl expectantly. ¡°Will this be sufficient?¡± The whole room, whilst already quiet, seemed to grow even quieter as I finished my brief explanation of a concept that would require the EVI to step in to properly explain. Yet despite my surface level understanding and explanation, something within the owl¡¯s eyes seemed to click, as it ¡®smiled¡¯ in a way only a bird could manage. ¡°Yes. Sufficient enough for your query, at the very least.¡± The owl spoke with a certain satisfaction in its voice. ¡°And your proof?¡± I paused at that, letting out a large sigh in response as I simply shrugged. ¡°Unfortunately, QE systems aren¡¯t as portable nor as readily available as radio. As such, I don¡¯t have one on hand.¡± But just as soon as those words left my mouth, did another idea slam against me with the force of a truck. ¡°EVI.¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Pull up a partial proof of QE. Nothing that can be turned into something legitimately useful, nothing that could be used for practical application. Just¡­ proof of it. And maybe not even the whole proof.¡± ¡°Purposefully block out vital aspects of the theorem?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°Affirmative. Uploading results to DATAPAD01.¡± I immediately unlatched the datapad from my belt, before turning it towards the owl expectantly and with a smirk underneath my helmet. ¡°But I do have this.¡± I quickly corrected my course with the owl. It was clear the librarian didn¡¯t need any prompting to begin devouring the contents on the screen with his eyes. As he began darting from up and down the light-mode enabled device, prompting his pupils to squint somewhat as he adjusted to the light. It took about half a minute, but after a solid few moments of deliberation, the owl eventually turned his attention back squarely on me. ¡°Earthrealm¡­ and your kind, are utterly fascinating Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The owl responded with a certain glee in his voice, as a table was immediately pulled up in front of us. At around the same time, several books began flying from the shelves, landing right in front of Thacea, as if the owl understood what our dynamic was from our first visit here in the library. ¡°Even after all that has transpired, and the trauma that has been incurred upon it, the library wishes to express nothing but adamant appreciation and wishes to reciprocate fairly and accordingly.¡± Thacea, to her credit, took only a few moments to readjust to the situation. Despite her frazzled appearance, her thousand-yard stare, and her ruffled feathers, she took to the mission like a trooper. Her hands began flipping through the available pages, but reeled back as a few suddenly were drained of ink just as her hands grazed them. ¡°To clarify, Cadet Emma Booker. Would you wish to exchange the information of the radio for a Nexian equivalent now, or would you like to incur a deficit from the library, garnering credit on your card for this information later? I wish to ask as your inquiry was focused solely on the Status Communcatia and the Shards of Impart, and not the Tethers, Flares, and so on and so forth.¡± I raised my brow at that, seeing that several books around Thaceea had gone blank, save for what was presumably the one on the crystal I requested earlier. ¡°So, I¡¯m assuming that right now the only book that¡¯s readable is the one on the Minor Shard of Impart and the Status Communicatia?¡± I attempted to clarify. ¡°Correct, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± I took a deep breath, looking at all of the information laid out in front of me, and the potential to learn it all now. ¡°Emma.¡± Thacea interjected, her voice barely a squeak compared to the vocal range used between me and the owl thus far. I turned to her, as she gave me a look that I immediately understood. ¡°These other topics are known to me, and thus we may discuss this later.¡± And that¡¯s why you always bring an expert to haggle with the locals. ¡°I¡¯ll hold off on that for now, thanks.¡± I shot back with a smile towards the owl, but not before giving Thacea an appreciative nod. ¡°Very well.¡± The owl nodded, as several books were pulled back for now, leaving just what we were after. Thacea didn¡¯t need much prompting as she began diving deep into the books in front of her, starting with one that was open to a page that displayed a prominent diagram of what I immediately recognized as a shard of impart. The Avinor went to town on reading it immediately, her eyes darting across the page, as I noticed that the fox crowd had slowly begun pulling back into the shadows from whence they came. All, save for one near-catatonic fox, who immediately booted back to life as soon as I touched him. Without much prompting, Buddy leaped up into my arms, draping across my shoulders, as I made my way towards an armchair immediately next to Thacea. Letting out a long, tired sigh, I took a moment to shut my brain off, enjoying the silence of the library, occasionally interrupted by the flipping of pages and the squirming of a fox who had now made my lap his home. Twenty minutes passed, as Thacea¡¯s gaze remained transfixed on that first book, flipping back and forth between several pages as if to cross reference what she¡¯d just read. ¡°Emma.¡± She finally spoke, her eyes staring right at me as she pointed at a diagram of a crystal, before flipping the page to reveal an image of a familiar crystalline dragon. Chapter 51: Sky Shattering Revelations The Library Thacea I remember the tales of old, sung to me in flights of fantasy: of a world of heroes, an era of adventure. A time when anything was possible. I remember the legends of these heroes, of those who slew great demons, of many who convened with the gods, and many more who spoke to the inhabitants of higher planes. This epoch of heroism was a time where the mortal and higher plains coexisted, a time where both interacted freely without boundaries, without order, and without any of the ties that bind. Such things have been cast into the light of mysticism in the contemporary era. Seen by many as a period of poorly recorded history born out of imaginative fixation, rather than a documentation of truth. To many, this era of fantasy was accurate to its namesake¡­ a mere fantasy, and nothing more. This was what I was led to believe. This was what I truly believed. And yet here I was, witnessing the manifestation that all but defied those beliefs. A physical embodiment of those fantasies. A faceless knight clad in blue, heraldry proudly drawn, speaking freely to those of higher planes without prompting, without deference, without decorum¡­ without being beholden to the ties that bind. Moreover, she spoke in a manner only portrayed in songs of legend, as equals in peerage, and contemporaries in dignity. This was, as Nurse Pelka would say, the stuff of legends. And I was acting not as a mere witness to the birth of this legend, but as a participant in the drafting of its course. But as with all legends, this was not without its challenges. As point after point that was raised began chipping away at the reality that I thought I understood, a worldview I thought was absolute; prompted first by the library¡¯s self-admitted limitations, and its desire to overcome those limitations for the sake of transaction. It was actively redrafting its eons-old rules, in adaptation and in service purely for Emma¡¯s unique needs. It was a personalized direction that betrayed the library¡¯s vested interests in this newrealmer. A not-so-subtle hint at its assessment of Emma, and by extension, Earthrealm¡¯s potential. This would later be all but confirmed by the librarian himself, at the behest of Emma¡¯s incessant ramblings. Ramblings that would traditionally be seen as novice in typical discourse, but was clearly more in line with the library¡¯s straightforwardness, and very much in line with its preference in conducting trade. I watched on, trying my best to ignore and block out the sudden surge in activity within the foreign ebb and flow of the library¡¯s manastreams. It was a silent and unseen fight that eventually ended in the library¡¯s victory, but only momentarily, as it overcame my learned decorum prompting my feathers to flare out in a natural response. I continued bearing witness to Emma¡¯s back and forths with Buddy and eventually the Librarian, as the library morphed, contorted, and changed, redrafting the canvas of reality on a whim just to illustrate its points to Emma. I noted at the corner of my eye, an entire section dedicated to the Earthrealmer. I listened, as Emma continued her points of clarification, demonstrating Earthrealm¡¯s particular acumen for trade assessment. I hung on every word of every sentence, as the realization quickly came that what was rapidly developing wasn¡¯t merely a typical exchange of information. It was a trade of immense significance, one that should have only been possible by the Nexus, owing to its seemingly endless stores of clandestine information. My whole body stood still, as Emma preempted her trade of this Radio, with a speech befitting of an Elven Nexian diplomat in its delivery and content; as well as its flair and bluster. I dissected each concept, as Emma described a tale that reflected the tale of many a realm, until finally, it reached a point that no realm could match. None, except for the Nexus itself. I listened closely as she described the functional limitations of a civilization never before seen, never before heard of, never before imagined save for the Nexus, and a few outliers such as Aetheron prior to the reformations. A civilization so large, so expansive, so driven in its course and its direction for more, that it required nothing short of miracles to maintain its ferocious hunger. Miracles that came in the form not of mana-driven derivatives of Tethers, Puddlejumping, or Flares, and not even brute-forced into existence by the gifts of flight, speed, or water-sprinting, but by a wholly foreign concept that had only been revealed to me a few days prior. A concept that up to this point had been nameless, vague, and formless. A concept, no, a system¡­ known as science. And its derivative, technology. A method and system of civilizational advancement that could only be compared to magic and mana in its potential and capabilities. On a scale so vast that only the greatest of adjacent realms with the most advanced of magics could ever hope to match. That was my assertion, at least, until I heard a collection of words that simply did not fit into the narrative of Earthrealm.
¡°Our destiny was always to cross the distance of oceans. Regardless of if they were oceans of water or oceans of stars.¡±
A collection of words that I¡¯d at first dismissed as mere window dressing for the sake of a trade. A quirk of colorful language and nothing more. However, I should¡¯ve known better than that. The Earthrealmer wasn¡¯t the type to mince words. Moreover, she was the type to say exactly what she meant, in as little words as possible. So as her speech went on, and more was revealed, a revelation dawned on me that I remained actively opposed to for the sake of my own sanity.
¡°...In our race to expand across the heavens¡­¡± ¡°...Traditional communication using radio waves would be insufficient to these ends¡­¡± ¡°...We learned that lesson across our tentative first few steps across the stars¡­¡±
A revelation so far reaching, so extensive, that it would lead to nothing but a redefinition of the worldview I held. I held onto that root of doubt, that network of skepticism, for as long as I could. Until finally, I could not. As the library itself would act as the third party assessor which would uproot any of these doubts, in a fashion so simple, that it left me speechless and listless.
¡°Earthrealm¡­ and your kind, are utterly fascinating Cadet Emma Booker.¡±
The librarian himself spoke, not once doubting, not once refuting, not once denying any of the Earthrealmer¡¯s claims.
¡°Even after all that has transpired, and the trauma that has been incurred upon it, the library wishes to express nothing but adamant appreciation and wishes to reciprocate fairly and accordingly.¡±
In fact, it was nothing short of grateful for this revelation. Meaning that its veracity was undeniable. Emma¡¯s realm, her world, her minor-realms unbound by skies, was real. Which meant that there was no adjacent realm that could parallel her own. Except for the Nexus itself. ¡­ I felt nothing one moment. ¡­ And in another, for the very first time, I felt everything. Fear. Dread. Confusion. Curiosity. And most confusing of all¡­ hope. This new mana-less realm, powered by mana-less means, driven by a ferocious appetite for more that could only be matched by the Elven and Draconian races¡­ was a potential rival to the established order. This civilization constructed on the principles of novelty, taken to the extreme, defying all Nexian narratives on the supposed ¡®dead-end¡¯ nature of such empiricalist sentiments, could very well be the asymmetric rival to the Nexus¡¯ grasp on power. There was a potential, as slim as it may be, for something new to emerge from the frayed branches of the old. And it was all because of an anomaly, a direct result of a species of hungry, ravenous, thinking minds, that would not and could not be stopped by their inherent limitations. My mind raced back to the moving images Emma showed, of grand manufactoriums forging metals and more, and her reasoning as to why it was all necessary. Why they had been pushed in this strange direction in the first place.
¡°Because we had no other choice.¡±
They simply had no other means to satiate their ceaseless and seemingly endless hunger for progress. But as important as that former observation was, it was the latter that was just as, if not more important. For it was one thing to have the potential to rival an endless and boundless empire¡­ it was another to have the will to see it through. And that willpower was more than exemplified through their ambitions. The likes of which seemingly knew no end, as evidenced by Emma¡¯s mere presence here; an affront to her natural mana-less state of being. I just hoped for Earthrealm¡¯s sakes, and for perhaps the sake of the future yet unwritten, that they haven¡¯t yet flown too close past the sight-lines. ¡­ THUMP! My internalized thoughts were brought to a rude and abrupt pause as the librarian¡¯s end of the promise was quickly made manifest. This came in the form of the conjuring of a grand table ¡ª exactly two seats ¡ª and the arrival of several piles of books being pulled from shelves far and wide. It was around the same time that I was pulled from my reverie that I noted the librarian¡¯s questionable offer, and decided that I needed to immediately counter for the sake of future transactions. ¡°Emma.¡± I quickly interjected, drawing Emma¡¯s attention almost immediately as her two red lenses glared ominously back at me. ¡°These other topics are known to me, and thus we may discuss this later.¡± I stated a matter of factly. This seemed to be all that was needed as Emma¡¯s trust in my judgment was nigh instantaneous. She rejected the offer without a second thought, deferring that decision entirely to me. This was¡­ something that I was still unaccustomed to, on account of my tainted status having the opposite effect on almost all parties I encounter. It was¡­ in a way, a novel, refreshing state of affairs. One that brought me this foreign sensation, this alien and bizarre feeling of what I could only describe as belonging. The superfluous books on Tethers, Flares, and Puddlejumping were pulled immediately. This finally left us with the task at hand. I took a moment to compose myself, before taking a seat and quickly taking a hold of the first book that was open. It was conveniently the one most relevant to our queries. So with a deep breath, I began reading, my eyes going over preambles of a subject matter I was already vaguely familiar with. Except instead of the watered-down synopses provided by the Nexus to our Ministries of Conveyance, this read as far more straightforward, factual, and lacked the fluff and glut of misdirection that riddled our own reference texts on the matter. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. My thoughts were now preoccupied by equal parts musings and equal parts analytic fervor on the pages before me. Yet the more I read, the less I could devote my musings on to the matter of Emma¡¯s recent back and forths. As with each turn of the page came new revelations that weren¡¯t even hinted at in reference material on similar topics back in the Aetheronrealm Royal Archives. More and more, I came across details that were at first, seemingly minor, but had massive ramifications for the function of the status communicatia. From the revelation that there existed more than five types of minor shards. To the downright insulting reference to an entire field of magic dedicated to its study and operation. A field of magic that had all but been conveniently left out by the Nexian representatives within the Ministry of Conveyance, or the Royal Archives. But that wasn¡¯t the end of it. In fact, it was far from it. As detail after detail emerged that made our records look like children¡¯s books, rather than the greater tomes of magical knowledge they were purported to be. Details on color were expanded beyond the 10 primary shard colors, into a dizzying array of over 1000 varying shades and their associated meanings. Details on shape revealed a seemingly infinite number of configurations, and even delved into what the Nexian mages referred to as compound configurations, that would immediately place our methods as nothing but primary-level. Details on crystalline composition were expanded beyond what was capable of being seen by the naked eye, into what the Nexus referred to as scales of magnification utilizing the system of clear-glass mana-imbued microscopy, starting first with incremental magnification, before intensifying its effects by doubling, quadrupling, and enhancing their analysis of crystals on a scale impossible to see with the naked eye. And it wasn¡¯t as if our magics weren¡¯t capable of affording us the same effect. It was just no one thought to look further, no one thought to consider these finer details, no one knew that these¡­ infinitesimal crystalline architectures were at all relevant. It was always assumed that anything below a certain size, below what the naked eye could see, was too small and thus too irrelevant to matter in the function and operation of shards of impart. This assumption, this reassurance by the Mages of the Ministry, the Mage-Advisors to my uncle, was all but a blatant sham. My worldview was once again coming apart at the seams. But this time it wasn¡¯t so much prompted by Emma, as it was prompted by a complete upending of the knowledge that we believed was absolute. Emma¡¯s trades however, brought upon illicit knowledge that was for all intents and purposes, never before seen. This trend went on seemingly forever. Page after page brought about newfound knowledge ranging from the minor and seemingly inconsequential, such as the proper time frame and scheduling of a shard¡¯s ceremonial cleaning, to the sky-shattering revelations bordering on the same significance of what I¡¯d just uncovered a few pages prior. However none of that could hold a candle to what was in store on the final few pages. Not a single piece of information that had been divulged thus far, could match the intensity of what was the final piece in this story yet untold. As I flipped the page to reveal a now-familiar depiction of an amethyst dragon, detailed in accurate and vivid color and movement. My imagination took control before my logical mind had the ability to fill in the gaps of knowledge. My mind began going through eccentric postulations with outlandish theory upon outlandish theory, much in advance of the actual fact of the matter. My eyes scrambled to counteract these propensities for the fantastical, as they scoured the pages word-by-word, and line-by-line, picking and tearing at every concept and every topic until all that needed to be known was scored into my ravenous mind. The first two pages consisting entirely of information-dense preamble didn¡¯t entirely upend all I knew, moreso, it added vital context as well as never before seen chapters on the topic of these minor shards of impart that had never before been seen. I continued picking apart at every single word, until suddenly, and abruptly, the pages stopped; scorch marks present at the very edges, but coming nowhere close to the contents within. And it didn¡¯t so much stop at any major points of information either, rather, at a ledger indexing all the realms associated with this particular dragon-derived minor shard of impart. Stopping precisely at the second to last instance of the latest recipients of this particularly uncommon shard of impart. I leaned back against my seat as I confirmed that that was indeed the last page of the book. A few moments later, after having successfully recovered my composure, I quickly turned towards Emma, flipping the pages to the Amethyst dragon, and pointed at it urgently. ¡°Emma.¡± I spoke, urging her attention.
The Library Emma Booker They say that before everything makes sense, that everything will have to first not make sense. Well I call crap on that, because there was always this nagging, harebrained part of me that knew the dragon had to be related to all of this somehow. Sure, the life-archive could¡¯ve had it stored away for some convoluted reason, in a similar fashion to how literally every chimeric beast under the sun seemed to be stored there. But a dragon just felt out of place. So as soon as Thacea pointed at a picture of that dragon, in a book on the minor shards of impart no less¡­ I just about lost it. ¡°EVI, put one point in my crazy ideas tally if you would please?¡± I spoke jubilantly into my helmet, prompting the EVI to beep once in response, pulling up a small HUD of a crudely drawn tally board, with EMMA on one side, and the EVI on the other. This was promptly accompanied by a crudely drawn two-frame animation of a dancing suit of power armor. Eye-calibration mode can be used for so much more than just calibrations¡­ I internally chuckled to myself. Quickly changing back to speaker mode, I quickly addressed Thacea. ¡°Right, so, I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s been some major revelations in that book, and that the dragon¡¯s the crux of all of it?¡± Thacea took a moment to respond, as if pondering my question carefully, before nodding once with tentative restraint. ¡°For the purposes of our particular quest for knowledge, yes. However, within the greater context of minor shards of impart and their relation to the status communicatia? Not quite.¡± She paused, before promptly elaborating, by shuffling the book all the way back to the first pages. The book itself, strangely enough, never seemed to deviate from that photo-perfect look of a hardcover book opened right down the middle. Some magic-based shenanigans making it so that the pages never piled up on one side or the other. ¡°Because as far as I¡¯m able to tell, most if not all of what I¡¯ve stated about the minor shards of impart is still accurate.¡± This prompted me to cock my head in confusion. ¡°The details revealed to me in this book are moreso an expansion of the knowledge base I¡¯ve previously accrued. Expansions that have immense ramifications, but expansions all the same. The principles of the minor shards of impart are, for the most part, identical to my recounting.¡± ¡°They¡¯re geologically compressed mana-derived crystals that the Nexus uses for communication?¡± I quickly clarified, summarizing Thacea¡¯s long winded explanation of that topic a few days prior. ¡°Correct.¡± Thacea nodded. ¡°However, that wasn¡¯t the whole truth. For you see, geologically-derived minor shards of impart are a relatively new development in Nexian methods of inter-realm communication. Prior to this, there seemed to only have been only one method of acquiring and harnessing minor shards of impart.¡± Thacea paused once more, flipping to the pages on the amethyst dragon, placing her finger atop of the dragon itself, revealing what I could only describe as a paper-back version of a hologram. As the page itself lifted up, the paper folding, contorting, before forming an origami that had more polygons than a 21st century videogame. The paper hologram revealed a rotating amethyst dragon, before morphing once again to focus in on a random crystal on its body, zooming in closely, and revealing what was undeniably a shard of impart. ¡°And that method was by harvesting it from amethyst dragons.¡± ¡°So, wait, if that¡¯s the case then¡­¡± I trailed off, my train of thought suddenly blocked as I realized I didn¡¯t have much to go off of. Thacea figured this out quickly enough, as she continued to elaborate without missing a single beat. ¡°This method rapidly fell out of favor for the contemporary method of geologically-derived minor shards of impart. However, there are certain unique instances that simply aren¡¯t suited for geologically-derived-¡± ¡°Can we just call them geo-shards?¡± I quickly interrupted, realizing that if I let this go on any further, we¡¯d be in for a lot of unnecessary mouthfuls. Thacea, after a split second expression of incredulity, reluctantly nodded in agreement. ¡°Geo-shards it is. Now, you see, there seems to be a fundamental difference in the architecture between Geo-shards, and dragon-derived shards. The former seems to be more easily harvested and grown, and thus can be derived on a mass scale at predictable rates. The latter however, is the exact opposite for obvious reasons. This is not even taking into account the fact that it is a far more labor-intensive affair.¡± Thacea once more visibly shuddered at the thought. ¡°There are, however, tradeoffs in the utilization of these geologically sourced shards, all of which result in them being functionally inferior to dragon-derived shards in almost every capacity. Most notable of which, in the case of your Earthrealm, Emma, is in its internal mana-stores.¡± It was at this point that everything suddenly clicked, as my eyes went wide and my mouth hung limply. ¡°So that means-¡± ¡°I recall you describing how the first shards sent through seemed to be inadequate in maintaining any semblance of reasonable communication with the Nexus, correct?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± I responded with a nod. ¡°Those must be geologically-derived. Your mana-less realm leached all of its internal mana-stores before they could be useful. Now, I¡¯m assuming that the minor shard of impart you possess does not look like any of the following¡­¡± Thacea paused, flipping the page back to the long list of crystals, all of which glowed different colors. The EVI was quick to analyze each and every one of the thousands of colors at hand, none of which matched the color and shimmer of the one in the ECS. However, there was one that at least stood out. ¡°This one.¡± I paused, pointing at an amber-green one. ¡°This was one of the first ones they sent that was a near-complete dud. Afterwards, they sent ones that were more of a pinkish-blue hue, with veins of green and turquoise running through it.¡± I described, as Thacea took a moment to flip back to the page on the dragon, pointing at one of the variants of the dragon-derived crystal. Needless to say, it matched my description perfectly. Except for the veins of turquoise. I pulled up an image of the crystal on my data-pad, choosing hologram mode, projecting the image right up next to the magic equivalent of a hologram. Thacea, whilst impressed and ruffled by it, quickly got back in the groove of things as her eyes darted between both crystals. ¡°Identical.¡± She stated affirmatively. ¡°Though the veins of turquoise seem to be an aberration-¡± ¡°Correct!¡± Another voice quickly chimed in, as Buddy scrambled onto the table on two haphazardly flailing paws that were desperately scrambling for any purchase he could muster. ¡°Aberrations are a potential ramification of prolonged or intense mana-siphoning and or use! One of these aberrations is the manifestation of so-called veins of color, turquoise being an indicator of a particularly high-drain modal state!¡± Both Thacea and I cocked our heads towards the fox, confused as to why he was readily giving away information without prompting. ¡°Buddy, why are you telling us this?¡± I asked frankly. ¡°I am your library assistant Emma! I am currently here not just as your Buddy, but in case you wish for points of clarification to be made on details that may be tangential to the topic at hand! This is both a courtesy from the library, and a direct result of the tangential credits you have accrued!¡± He clarified, prompting me to quickly dismiss the concern as I lifted the little thing up onto the table, where he now sat politely, hinds legs crossed and front legs tall and taut. Moving on swiftly from that, both Thacea and I continued to stare at the two crystal projections intently, both of our arms having found themselves resting on the table in front of us. Our elbows eventually met as we attempted to gain a closer look at both projections, prompting both of us to lock eyes momentarily, only to pull back just as sheepishly. ¡°So I¡¯m going to take a wild guess and I¡¯m going to assume that the use of this rare and ancient method of minor-shard procurement probably has something to do with the amethyst dragon that popped out of that basement?¡± I asked with a nervous cough. ¡°That is my current running hypothesis, yes.¡± Thacea acknowledged with a confident nod, a slight hitch of her voice, and a bit of ruffled feathers. ¡°Right, so, quickly addressing the points we need to hit. Point number one, procuring a minor shard of impart. Where does this new intel put us?¡± Buddy, surprisingly, was quick to respond to this. But not with words, instead, placing a forepaw politely atop another open book, before sliding it over to Thacea silently. Thacea flipped over to see the title of the section, her eyes growing wide once more as she began speed-reading through it. Five minutes later, we had our answer. ¡°That question as it pertains to geologically-derived shards of impart is decidedly simple to answer. Geologically derived shards are guarded by the inner guard. Moreover, all sites of naturally-occurring geologically-derived shards are held by the crown directly, with no intermediary party claiming ownership over these sites. So procuring one would require a letter of assignment by the crown, an official inter-realm request by an Adjacent realm, or some other official transaction. It says here however that other forms of procurement have been reported, but it doesn¡¯t specify what it was that-¡± ¡°THEFT!¡± Buddy interrupted gleefully. My eyes worryingly glanced over at the polite looking fox, who quickly added some context to that sudden interruption. ¡°There have been some recorded instances of thefts of minor shards of impart! Although many can be attributed to crownlands feuds rather than an outsider¡¯s infiltration. Only during the Great War was an outside force reported to have successfully committed an act of thievery!¡± Thacea nodded worryingly, before quickly turning towards me. ¡°The procurement of a geologically-derived minor shard of impart is thus¡­ distressingly difficult. However, not entirely beyond the realm of possibility as it also states that instances of spontaneous manifestation in particularly mana rich locations have been recorded.¡± ¡°I¡¯m guessing that this doesn¡¯t really apply to us though.¡± I quickly clarified, pulling the conversation back towards its intended path. ¡°Given that we need a dragon-derived crystal, to connect back with the one back on Earthrealm.¡± I quickly clarified. ¡°That is correct, Emma. As stated previously, the structures of either constructs are fundamentally different. Thus for our purposes, we need a dragon-derived shard. However, this may turn out to be a benefit to our endeavors.¡± Thacea explained cryptically, before flipping a few pages forward. ¡°In typical circumstances, amethyst dragons are exceptionally rare. However, given that there is more than likely an amethyst dragon somewhere in the vicinity of Elaseer-¡± ¡°-we actually have something to work towards. Instead of having to invade the crownlands for a crystal, all we have to do is find the dragon and¡­¡± I trailed off, realizing that my harebrained schemes more or less lost all semblance of steam when it came to exactly what I would do once I came face to face with the dragon. ¡°... you know what, we¡¯ll tackle that issue when we cross that bridge. The first thing we have to do is to find the dragon.¡± Thacea reciprocated this with a nod of her own. ¡°There is another point I¡¯d like to quickly raise, Emma.¡± Thacea quickly added, before swapping to the first book on the minor shards of impart, and flipping all the way towards the back on what looked to be a ledger of names, places, and realms. With the bottom most row strangely missing. It was clear something was meant to be there. But it looked to be just¡­ gone. ¡°This is a ledger which documents every single realm that had received a dragon-derived shard. The last of which was struck out. I had assumed it was Earthrealm given the unique qualities of the shard, and now that you confirmed it, I am left wondering why exactly it was removed.¡± I turned to Buddy, as if expecting an answer. The fox, however, gave me one that I sincerely wasn¡¯t expecting. ¡°The ledger was given to us in an incomplete manner.¡± The fox concluded. ¡°The individual in question traded quite a few new developments in the realm of amethyst-dragon derived shards of impart. However during the trade, they inadvertently halted the ledger, leading to the construction of a row, without details.¡± The next part of his explanations however, was more in line with what I was expecting. ¡°Moreover, whatever would have been on that final row was also a target of the great scarring, yesterday, Emma.¡± He whined out. A litany of questions suddenly dawned on me, as well as Thacea, as her eyes came to rest on the bottom of that page. However, despite it all, this gave way to another question that needed to be addressed now rather than later. One that I was holding off on until we had the intel we needed. ¡°So, with all of that being said, I have one more question for you, and maybe the Librarian as well if he wishes to address it.¡± Buddy cocked his head, awaiting my question. ¡°What do you plan to do to the perpetrator of this great scarring?¡± ¡°That¡¯s rather simple Emma.¡± Buddy responded, devoid of emotion, looking up at me with an expression that rapidly shifted to a knowing nervousness as the space between the darkness of the bookshelves suddenly lit up with a thousand beady little eyes. This was followed by a chorus of voices, speaking all in unison, save for Buddy himself. ¡°Punishment.¡± Chapter 52: The Fugitive ¡°Punishment.¡± Buddy repeated nervously, out of sync, and out of tune from the rest of the chorus of foxes. Delivering that word with equal parts concern and passion. ¡°That is what we plan to do to the perpetrator of the great scarring, Emma.¡± Buddy cautiously spoke, breaking the awkward silence that had formed from the departure of the court of foxes with a whine-ridden response, interrupted by the clack clack clack of two forepaws nervously scratching at the hardwood table beneath them. ¡°This is, of course, assuming the perpetrator is delivered to us alive.¡± My eyes widened at that, as both Thacea and I shot glances at one another at just about the same time, as if turning to each other to perform a double-take. ¡°Wait what? I thought the Academy would''ve wanted to deliver the perp to you alive?¡± I attempted to clarify, not yet bringing the existence of Ilunor into the equation. The revelation of which I knew would muddy the waters of this conversation, and the eventual case I felt was gearing up to be made. Buddy paused, and inexplicably craned his head upwards, towards the ceiling that had suddenly changed from a grand dome reminiscent of some of the great Revivalist structures back home, to yet another dark and endless void. His eyes seemed to be focused on something in that inky abyss, mimicking the owl¡¯s movements during our long winded back and forths. And just like the owl, he didn¡¯t even so much as blink, his pupils remaining locked onto whatever was lurking in the darkness; a mystery entity invisible to all the suit¡¯s sensors. It was only after a solid minute did he finally regain eye contact with me, his eyes radiating back pure dread. ¡°Dead or alive, this is a matter dictated not by the library, but by those bound by duty to bring the perpetrator to us. I assume you recall the Librarian¡¯s earlier conversations regarding the library¡¯s¡­ lack of investment in the worlds outside its domain, correct?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± I replied quickly. ¡°It was heavily inferred by rule number one.¡± I continued, second-guessing myself mid-sentence, prompting me to turn towards the EVI for confirmation. Sure enough, the virtual intelligence quickly brought up a transcript of that very conversation, and right there, highlighted for extra effect - was a brief excerpt dispelling any shortcomings of my memory. ¡°More specifically, it was touched on right before rule number one of the library.¡± I paused, before realizing where Buddy was going with this. ¡°I¡¯m assuming the library has some sort of an extradition deal set up because of this policy, huh?¡± Buddy, seemingly satisfied, responded with a single nod before continuing. ¡°There was once a time when such a thing wasn¡¯t necessary. Indeed, there was once a time when respect went both ways. When none entertained the concept of breaching that unspoken promise. When the eternal sanctity of the library and its contents was universally respected.¡± He continued, before reaching for a previously unseen book. One that EVI confirmed wasn¡¯t on the table just a moment prior. ¡°However that point in time has long since passed, and through the actions of a self-purported ¡®desperate¡¯ few, came with it a necessity to adapt to the newfound realities of a hostile world. The systems of punishments were birthed as a result, and to better provide context for your question, a treaty was drafted between the powers outside the library¡¯s domain and the library itself. This treaty outlined the obligations that are expected from the host of the library¡¯s corporeal entrance. Chief among these obligations is a simple promise, a guarantee that the host realm must extradite all those who violate the library¡¯s rules, deferring their fate to the library without question. There have, however, been multiple recorded instances where a perpetrator is brought in dead rather than alive; a result of factors beyond the control of those responsible for this task. This is why, prior to the discussion of the matter of punishment, I made mention of the potential of death. As the matter of punishment rests completely on the state of the perpetrator when they arrive through the threshold.¡± Buddy explained succinctly, or at least, what I assumed was succinct given the fact that with each sentence that passed, another book seemed to manifest right underneath his paw, creating a literal pile of books that probably all related to the information he was delivering. ¡°Right.¡± I managed out with a nervous sigh. ¡°Okay, this puts things into a whole new perspective.¡± I continued, speaking to no one in particular as I leaned back against my seat; taking a breather to reflect on this newfound development. Death. Despite all my preparation, despite all my personal fortitude, confronting it always felt so¡­ off. Moreover, the likelihood of death hitting someone you knew, as much as you hated or disliked them¡­ was just something I found difficult to reconcile with. The potential end to the blue thing¡¯s life wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d been expecting. A life that was questionable at best and scummy at worst, but a life nonetheless. I disliked the discount kobold, heck, I would¡¯ve gladly punted him if I had the chance. But it wasn¡¯t like I¡¯d ever really go through with it. More importantly, it wasn¡¯t like I¡¯d ever want him to die. There were practical reasons for saving his skin, sure. But now¡­ the circumstances have fundamentally shifted. Changing from a mission focused on preventing a potential punishment and reassignment, to preventing the potential loss of a life. Getting Ilunor through those doors before the Academy or the Nexus could get their hands on him was imperative now. ¡°So what if the perp makes it?¡± I finally managed out after that lull of silence. ¡°What if they make it through those doors?¡± I pointed at the set of doors that had surprisingly always remained somewhere in view, despite all of the changes that had occurred within the library up to this point. ¡°What then? What can a violator, this rule breaker in particular, expect?¡± I continued. ¡°The punishments for those that cross the line, are as diverse and as severe as the lines that exist to be crossed.¡± Buddy spoke cryptically, his paws once again scraping across the varnished surface of the table. ¡°Yet as diverse as the punishments are, they all share a similar sentiment.¡± Buddy made the effort to pause, before locking eyes with me as he inhaled sharply. ¡°They will be made to repay their dues.¡± That statement lingered in the air, overstaying its welcome as the fox paused uncharacteristically. ¡°This will be done, in a manner befitting of their violations.¡± He eventually continued, conjuring another book out of thin air, this one containing an actual title on its cover written in a script that was untranslatable by the likes of the EVI; one that looked oddly Cthulian. The book eventually opened, its pages flipping for far longer than should be physically possible given the dimensions of the thing. Eventually, it stopped, revealing a crude infographic rendering of a humanoid standing atop a platform, surrounded on all sides by a literal swarm of foxes. Whilst superficially cute, it exuded an ominous vibe. Like there was something that was off about the whole drawing. This feeling was proven right as the page flipped over, revealing the humanoid being wrapped head to toe by page upon page ripped straight from open books. Before finally, on the very next page, was that same humanoid crudely interpreted as a ghostly visage of its former self. I could tell it was a ghost, by virtue of its legs becoming a formless floating mist. ¡°Punishments must fit the violation, but I shall start with the ultimate end of all violations, that being the wardship of penance.¡± The room literally shook as Buddy spoke those words, and if the EVI¡¯s long range acoustic sensors were to be believed, the distant echo of unearthly moans would accompany the sudden vibrations. ¡°There exists a place, deep within the library¡¯s core, where only the Librarian is allowed to enter. This¡­ inner sanctum is guarded for eternity by the forms and the souls of those that have attempted to halt or interfere with the library¡¯s eternal quest. For the violations they commit are felt not for a single lifetime, nor the lifetime of a culture or a species¡¯ living memory, but for the eternum of knowledge itself. The only fitting punishment is one that lasts for as long as the harm they inflict, which in this case is eternity.¡± The revelation of this newfound intel brought with it a whole new atmosphere to the library that I should¡¯ve expected. But whilst I did feel intimidated, and whilst a new sense of dread and dreariness descended upon me, I couldn¡¯t help but feel like this wasn¡¯t the true nature of the library. Or at least, this wasn¡¯t how things were supposed to go. Indeed, if the fox¡¯s history lesson was any indication, this wasn¡¯t how things were at the beginning at all. The library was an idealist at heart, very much owning up to its fairy tale-like aesthetics. But at the same time, the library was adaptable, fluid, and dynamic. It was only responding to the world outside with the same calculating ruthlessness that existed beyond its walls. ¡°That¡¯s extreme.¡± I finally commented, garnering a nod of approval from Thacea. ¡°But I can understand it.¡± This latter statement however, most definitely did not garner a nod of approval from the bird princess. ¡°If you¡¯re someone who constantly puts your best foot out, only to be burned time and time again¡­ then I guess you have to eventually react.¡± I offered, more or less paralleling my experiences in the Nexus up to this point. ¡°I don¡¯t agree with it personally, or on a moral level.¡± I quickly added for the record. ¡°But given the fantastical nature of everything here-¡± I gestured to the room around me. ¡°-I think we¡¯re operating under fundamentally diverging logic bases here. This is, of course, operating under the assumption that you have the right violator.¡± Buddy raised a brow at this, which prompted me to quickly move on to my final few points. ¡°So, you said this was their ultimate fate. What happens before then? You said something about ¡®paying their dues¡¯, right? How do you go about doing that?¡± ¡°In most cases, they become collectors of dues, Emma.¡± Buddy replied succinctly, flipping the pages to reveal that same humanoid, except this time, fitted with a collar. A crude arrow, drawn in what seemed to be crayon of all things, pointed to the collar, before linking up with more annotations matching the same mystery language that matched the front cover of the book. ¡°The collar here is symbolic. It symbolizes the fate of the violator. As a collector of dues, they are assigned to roam the lands outside of the library, to the very ends of the realms if need be, until they find knowledge which can offset the deficit they have incurred.¡± The explanation, whilst simple and straightforward, was laden with as much ominous mystique as the rest of the dark side of the library seemed to be steeped in. ¡°And what if their dues are, like, unreasonably high. Like the perp of the latest scarring?¡± I quickly asked. Buddy¡¯s eyes darkened even further at that, as he pointed to a word on the page that remained untranslatable. ¡°Collectors of dues have no set time limit to their quest. In fact, some of the very first collectors still roam the lands, having done so since the formation of the Nexus itself.¡± That answer hit hard. Knowing that somewhere, out there, were what were effectively immortals bound to this singular task for what was probably an impossible to accomplish quest. I didn¡¯t know what was worse now. Becoming a library ghost guard, or becoming a collector forced to roam the lands for eternity. Either way, that was a fate that seemingly awaited Ilunor if the Nexus got their way. That, or he would simply be offed. Which was probably more than likely to happen given the fact that the Academy would rather tie up all loose ends rather than let the library dig further into the issue¡­ ¡°Right.¡± I managed out with a sigh. ¡°I think there¡¯s just two more things I¡¯d like to ask if that¡¯s alright?¡± Buddy nodded tentatively, urging me to continue. ¡°In the case the perp arrives dead, how exactly do you collect their dues?¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°Simple, Emma. The burden of collection falls upon their next of kin or their estate.¡± Buddy explained simply, not once elaborating further. I nodded tentatively at that, before pressing on. ¡°So, with all of that being said¡­ is there like, a trial or a proceeding or something? I mean, supposing the perp is brought alive, I¡¯m sure you have a means of ascertaining their like¡­ guilt or innocence right?¡± Buddy nodded affirmatively, flipping the pages to reveal that infographic humanoid again, except this time, he seemed to be on an elevated platform, suspended above a white void with fox-like eyes and ears, along with several owls hovering around him. ¡°In a similar fashion to how the library ascertains veracity, so too will it ascertain the guilt of an individual by the divination of their memories.¡± My eyes lit up as my mouth hung agape with joy upon that revelation. That was the Nexus¡¯ game all along. They were planning to deliver Ilunor dead with all evidence pointing straight to him. Because if he was alive¡­ then they¡¯d be utterly screwed. He¡¯d have memories of Mal¡¯tory and all of his illicit dealings. This was my chance to clear Ilunor of his crimes, and strike back at the black robe at the same time. That was of course, assuming there were no other magical shenanigans going on outside of that contract. In which case¡­ ¡°So, is there anything else about this trial? Do you just read their minds or¡­¡± I trailed off, allowing Buddy to fill in the blanks. ¡°Typically speaking, those that bring the supposed perpetrator in are capable of speaking for or adding to the context of the perpetrator¡¯s actions. In many cases, Nexian authorities defer all judgment to the library with not a word added. However in times before the Nexus, in the wild times, many a bounty hunter and adventurer would have their word heard on the delivery of their captive.¡± Buddy once more paused, as if realizing just what I was implying by inference. ¡°Emma, are you suggesting-¡± ¡°I guess the library¡¯s about to get a blast from the past then. A taste of the wild times you could say. As I¡¯m your bounty hunter, and I¡¯m about to bring you the truth about this supposed perp, and the conspiracy surrounding this whole thing.¡± The library began once again creaking and shaking, the rattling even affecting the table and the fox that sat politely atop it. About the same time, Buddy began craning his head up to the ceiling that once more vanished into a sea of darkness. And just like clockwork, he looked back down with a look of dread, before responding simply, and frankly. ¡°You are serious about this assertion, Emma?¡± I nodded once in response. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Then the matter is settled. There shall be no ceremony or fanfare for your sake. The library shall observe, and react accordingly.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Armorer¡¯s Workshop. Local time: 2045 Hours. Emma Booker We left the library behind with a very confused fox and a promise of a bounty that the library hadn¡¯t experienced in tens of millennia. This was, however, emphasized to be a very informal arrangement. As such a thing hadn¡¯t been observed in so long, and so much leniency had already been given to me in particular, that the issuing of a new Library-derived bounty was just a step too far even for the dynamic library. But instead of heading immediately to Ilunor¡¯s room, I decided to pay a visit to a certain someone who could help in providing a bit more context to this story. I was now on a direct course to defending the small blue thing. A blue thing that had clearly been hesitant on revealing the whole picture to me, if that burnt scrap of paper was any indication of his reluctance. If I was to have any hope of representing him in the court of foxes and owls, I¡¯d need some context into that final piece of the puzzle, which led me to the only man who I knew could help unburn the scrap of paper, to reveal contents hidden within. A certain man who had revealed himself to be a skilled artificer, and someone who was well versed in restoring the broken and the rundown. A certain man who was more forthright than anyone at the Academy so far. An armored giant that I knew would be more than happy to provide a helping hand. ¡°I apologize for being unable to produce a restorative spell capable of undoing such damage, Emma.¡± Thacea spoke under a hushed breath just as we arrived at the long corridor leading to the armory. ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it Thacea.¡± I spoke reassuringly. ¡°Like I said, you¡¯ve done a heck of a lot already. Don¡¯t go stressing over stuff that you haven¡¯t learned about yet okay?¡± I offered once more, prompting the princess to simply nod in response. We both went silent as several golems approached us. Thankfully, I recalled what Sorecar told me, and after a few words exchanged, they led me wordlessly down the hall and back into his workshop. ¡°Thacea, do you have a heat dissipation spell or something?¡± I quickly asked just before we arrived. ¡°Yes, I do, why?¡± ¡°You might want to put one up, make it as powerful as you can possibly make it.¡± I warned, as Thacea took a good few steps back just in case. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 450% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Instead of the ball of protection I¡¯d imagined, what instead formed was a small cloud above Thacea¡¯s head, one that seemed to¡­ sprinkle down fine powdery snow. I cocked my head at that, prompting the princess to respond without missing a beat. ¡°This is more effective than it looks, Emma.¡± Suffice it to say, my warnings proved to be on point. Because the opening of those two doors was marked by a rush of steam that filled the hallway. This was followed by what I could only describe as another grand entrance befitting of both the armorer¡¯s Nexian origins, but also his very eclectic set of hyperfixative interests. As instead of the random industrial clanging of metal on metal, there was a strangely upbeat rhythm and tempo to the forging of his blades. This rhythm continued even as I arrived, as the smoke and steam cleared, and the heat of the room began dissipating further. ¡°Ah! Well if it isn¡¯t the knight of the hour!¡± He spoke, before peering over my shoulder to a confused Thacea. ¡°And it seems like you brought a friend this time. I will assume they are not like the¡­ other friend, are they?¡± If he had eyes to narrow I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be doing so at the snowing princess right about now. ¡°So! How may I help you, Emma Booker? It¡¯s a bit late to be out and about, is it not?¡± ¡°It is, Sorecar, but I need your help with something.¡± I quickly opened one of my pouches, pulling out the burnt piece of paper that was now barely even a scrap. ¡°Do you know restoration magic? There¡¯s a¡­ message on here that I really need, but it¡¯s-¡± ¡°Ah, I see the problem there. Burnt by dragonflame and a little something extra, hm?¡± The armorer spoke, as he looked everywhere and around the paper, craning his head, crouching, jumping from side to side to every possible angle around me. ¡°Would it be easier if I just handed you the paper?¡± I offered, garnering a sheepish nod from the man. Handing it off to Sorecar, he held it daintily between his thumb and index finger, peering so close to it that I was afraid a strong gust of wind would¡¯ve swept it right into his visor and down his armor. Thankfully, there were no stray gusts of wind around, and after a few moments the man responded with a firm nod. ¡°I can restore it alright, a simple enough task for a man like myself.¡± He pointed a thumb to his chest, beaming out confidence throughout it all. I nodded eagerly as he placed the scrap of paper on one of his workstations, standing right above it, he stretched out both hands and began pouring mana into that small scrap. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Shockingly, it began growing, as the burnt outlines receded, revealing untouched and crisp parchment. My mind began racing through just the awe-inspiring sight of it, of this fantastical spell being casted right before my eyes¡­ But alas, I was pulled out of my reverie with a sudden, abrupt, and awkward question that threw me for a loop. ¡°Ahhh, the lofty pursuits of young love never ceases to amaze.¡± The man spoke out of the blue, prompting me to stutter out an immediate response. ¡°W-what?¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s what I assumed this was! A burnt letter of some poor sap who was too shy to admit their affection for a blue knight in shining armor! Hence your insistence on coming so late to rekindle the flame of this potential love!¡± ¡°Oh my god, Sorecar.¡± I spoke, completely unfiltered and with an embarrassment that I wasn¡¯t counting on ever feeling at any point in this adventure. ¡°Oh? Have I misread the situation, Emma Booker?¡± The man cheekily shot back, as I could only respond with a restrained huff. ¡°It¡¯s not a love letter, Sorecar, it¡¯s a mystery letter that I need for a far bigger situation that¡¯s developing as we speak.¡± Sorecar, seemingly unsatisfied with that answer, and having just completed the letter¡¯s restoration, quickly and without warning, handed it back to me without even once taking a peek at it. ¡°Mmhmm! I¡¯ll leave you to it then, Emma Booker!¡± It seemed as if the man was quick to dismiss any attempts at getting involved with the bigger stories developing outside of his workshop. Which, similar to the gun incident a few days ago, hinted at him clearly trying to keep his own awareness of my complex plots to a minimum. Given his bound status to the Academy, I assumed this was for my own benefit. Somehow, someway, I¡¯d find a way to break through that someday. For now though, I had a letter to read in private with Thacea.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 2100 Hours. Emma Booker We entered the dorm without stirring up much of a fuss. Thalmin of course, peered out from Ilunor¡¯s room only momentarily, his eyes betraying a look of utter exhaustion and frustration from having had to babysit the blue thing for a quarter of the day now. A knowing glance was all it took for the mercenary prince to understand that his services were still needed, as he quickly pulled his head back into the apartment, allowing Thacea and I to head back into our own dorm to deliberate on the now-reforged letter. We set ourselves down on one of the many couches within, and began reading.
Mother, I am sorry. I set out with aspirations to better both of our stations. I set out with dreams and flights of fantasy. I charted a course where none of my siblings could follow, in hopes of reaching heights not yet seen for our clan. But I have failed. I will not waste your time on the burdensome details as to my follies and shortcomings. I will not waste your energy or breath on a third-rate child. I wish for you to focus your efforts elsewhere, perhaps on Talunor, who still has aspirations for greatness in the houses of the interior. As for myself, I have only one request to ask you of. [ILLEGIBLE TEXT. UNABLE TO PARSE.] Please strike me from the records. Disown me and cut all ties the moment this letter is received. [ILLEGIBLE TEXT. UNABLE TO PARSE.] And consider this letter my abdication to the chair of the house, effective as I write this. No longer shall I tie my sullied name to the house of Rularia. Effective immediately, I am Ilunor- [TEXT ENDS.]
¡­ There was so much that I could say about the letter. In fact, there was just so much I was currently feeling from said letter. A whole new dimension of the discount kobold had been opened up, one that I could¡¯ve never imagined. I sat there for the longest while, dumbfounded and with no words coming to mind as I went back and forth between the letter and Thacea. Thacea however, looked at the same letter as if it were just another Tuesday to her. The princess never once showed even a hint of distress or shock, merely¡­ stoic understanding. ¡°A noble act.¡± Was all she could say. ¡°To ensure that the burden of the library¡¯s debt ends with him, and not his house or clan.¡± The avinor princess spoke dryly, in a way only a jaded lawyer could. The princess was more than likely accustomed to these sorts of letters given the court politics she had to deal with¡­ which gave me an exceedingly large amount of respect for her resolve. ¡°All of this doesn''t add up. This letter proves that he knows he¡¯ll be dead anyways, so why not just turn himself into the library? Surely he could just¡­ ask the library to be mindread. That way he¡¯ll be cleared of all charges, and he''ll have evidence to defer the blame to his would-be master. Ilunor¡¯s not dumb, he wouldn¡¯t have resorted to this-¡± I paused. As the whole situation finally clicked. It was clear to me as well that Thacea was also on the same page, as her eyes had lit up just before my open-air flow of consciousness even had even had a chance to sprout ideas in my mind. ¡°-unless he knew that being mind read would be a death sentence either way.¡± I corrected my course, finishing my sentence, receiving a hesitant nod of approval from the likes of Thacea. ¡°The only two ways one could go about preventing the divination of one¡¯s memories, is by either removing them outright, or by preemptively placing countermeasures that will trigger the moment a spell of divination targets a certain memory. Given that Ilunor was able to describe to you in vivid detail Mal¡¯tory¡¯s involvement, I am inclined to believe the latter precautions are in place, Emma.¡± ¡°But why didn¡¯t it trigger when he mentioned the damning details of his involvement with Mal¡¯tory?¡± ¡°The contract was established to prevent such things from happening, this countermeasure is designed to trigger with divination, not with speech. With the contract gone, I assume that measures were already put in place to remove any and all evidence of involvement with Professor Mal¡¯tory. Which means that all one is left with, are the empty words of a Vunerian. One that divination cannot even vouch for.¡± The seconds ticked on as I tried to wrap my head around the new turn of events, at the new complication that had just reared up its ugly head. ¡°We still don¡¯t have any other option.¡± I announced. ¡°He dies tomorrow at the hands of the Nexus anyways. But if I hand him in¡­ there¡¯s still a fighting chance I¡¯ll come up with something.¡± ¡°And what do you propose, Emma?¡± ¡°A compromise, a bargain, something. Listen, the library¡¯s proven itself capable of striking deals. And I intend on striking another one.¡± Chapter 53: Winging It The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 2100 Hours. Ilunor Rularia The end was coming. And I was fated to spend it alone. Surrounded not by family or kin, nor those bound by oath and blood, but with a guard at my door, and a cell unbefitting of a noble of house Rularia. But perhaps this was a fitting end. For even that latter assertion was now categorically untrue given my most recent of brash actions. So this was how it felt. To have reached the conclusion to a story before it even had a chance to develop. To end one¡¯s tale in the first quarter, before the rising tension was even established. To become nothing but a footnote, the loose end of a far more malicious tale. A frayed knot whose only purpose was to be tied off and forgotten. That was the worst part of it. Knowing that I was now a footnote to a series of stories destined for so much more than myself. Talunor, Thacea, Thalmin, and even the infernal newrealmer. Theirs were stories yet to be fated, yet to be ensconced in brick and mortar. And whilst the fates of the latter three would probably end as abruptly as my own¡­ they at least had the chance to become something more than just fleeting excerpts. For at least their legacies will be enshrined by the disruption they will inevitably inflict upon the Status Eternia. At least their tales would serve as warnings for those who may challenge the Nexus. At least they would have a legacy. A legacy, any legacy at all right now, was what I so desperately craved to leave behind before it was too late. But that was no longer an option for me. Because the only legacy I could leave behind now was a fable of liabilities for those I still cared about, for the lineage and name I dared not disrupt as a result of my own short-sighted mistakes. It was a surreal experience, staring at the lupinor from the foot of my bed, knowing well that by tomorrow, his life would merely be mildly disrupted; his trajectory otherwise unaffected by my passing. It was frustrating to know that the world, and all of the other stories progressing within it, would continue unabated, unaffected. Completely ignorant that my own journey will have since come to an end. It was insulting, to feel the bed beneath my form, knowing well that it would be handed off to some would-be peer. It was infuriating, knowing that no matter what I did, said, or spoke now, that my very presence meant nothing. In a way, it felt like I was already dead, a soul in transit, existing only for the moment and nothing more. The worst part of it however, was the understanding that the end to my story was not an unfortunate tale of victimhood, nor of maliciously directed conspiracy¡­ It was merely one that was born of the convenience of others, taking advantage of the oversight that came only from the ambitions of my own pride. If only I hadn¡¯t dropped that confounded bracelet. If only I hadn¡¯t entered that elf hideaway. If only I hadn¡¯t sat down with this insipid group. If only I hadn¡¯t miscalculated my cunning and control. If only I hadn¡¯t thought myself the potential leader to a pair of outcasts. If only I had been more conservative, more cautious with my approach. If only¡­ If only. I finally stood up from the bed, Thalmin peering over his shoulder to observe my motions, like the true guard dog he was. But his concerns were misplaced. There was nowhere for me to go. Nothing for me to do. I could no longer count on the Nexus, and I could no longer infringe on my home. The newrealmer was my only hope, and with her final departure, she so clearly implied that my fate was not worth fighting for. I knew this¡­ because if I was in her position, I would¡¯ve thought the same thing. It was the smartest thing for her to do. And whilst I could have escaped with this invisibility cloak in hand, escaping my fate would mean dooming my line. Which was simply unacceptable. And so I decided to wait. To wait for the inevitable conclusion to my story. To wait and observe, as my time came to a swift- SLAM!
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 2100 Hours. Emma Booker [INFIL-DRONE01 EN ROUTE TO MISSION LOCATION: OFFICE OF PROFESSOR MAL¡¯TORY. MISSION: INFILTRATION AND INVESTIGATION.] Saving the small thing was now top on the priority list. It was so urgent in fact that not only did I choose to deploy a drone to scour for evidence in Maltory¡¯s office- [TIME SENSITIVE OBJECTIVE: SAVE ILUNOR RALARIA] -I even set it as such on my HUD for good measure, the typo being evidence of that fact. But before I saved him, I wanted to start dishing out some long deserved just-desserts. Starting by returning the favor for each and every time he gave me, and the rest of the gang, mini heart attacks. By pulling a page straight from his book: slamming the door wide open with a THWACK and a SLAM. His reactions said it all, or rather, the loud thump coming from his short fall was enough to speak for itself. Those colorful reactions were good enough for me to finally make my entrance, as I hopped in with the force of a hundred caffeinated post-doctoral, committee-appointed, candidates on their first round of thesis defenses in the slaughterhouse that was the AOA. ¡°I told you I¡¯d be back.¡± I announced loudly over my vocoders, slamming the door shut behind me with less of a vendetta this time around. Finding myself above Ilunor¡¯s shocked and flustered form, I couldn''t help but to cock my head with a degree of incredulous confusion. ¡°What? You didn¡¯t think I wouldn¡¯t keep my word did you? I told you, you could at least count on me coming back, right?¡± The Vunerian, perhaps for the first time since I first had the displeasure of meeting him, remained utterly silent at that question. His expressions never shifted from what I could only describe as a shocked vacant look of disbelief, followed closely by small, little abrupt gasps that almost formed into words, but prematurely stopped before any could leave his snout. ¡°Erm, Earth to Ilunor, come in Ilunor. You still in there?¡± I shot back a second time, tentatively reaching a hand out to shake the blue thing¡¯s shoulder, only for him to finally snap out of it before I had the chance to do so. ¡°Indeed¡­ you are.¡± He finally responded, somehow, through some means, inexplicably returning right to that darker, brooding, desperate tone he¡¯d used right before I left for the library. It was jarring to see how effortlessly the little thing could slip back into that mentality, but I guess it was par for the course for a life of cutthroat nobility. ¡°And now that you¡¯ve returned, I believe we may resume our conversation.¡± He continued, trying to grapple and take over the reins of the conversation once again. But I wasn¡¯t having it. ¡°Continue? Sure, but you¡¯re sorely mistaken if you think we¡¯re going to go down another long-winded conversation. No, we¡¯re going to address the key points here and now.¡± I announced firmly, standing my ground as I refused to even take a seat, performing one of the many standing meetings that the IAS¡¯ director was so fond of doing. ¡°Ilunor, if we don¡¯t leave for the library before sunrise, you¡¯re going to die.¡± I stated in no uncertain terms, prompting Thalmin¡¯s face to widen in shock and confusion, but leaving Thacea¡¯s poker-face completely unaffected. The princess either being desensitized to shocking revelations such as these, or simply being unaffected by virtue of already being aware of the whole situation. Ilunor¡¯s expressions, whilst measured at first, started to show signs of wear as it was clear he knew this fact as well. ¡°And I think you know that. No. I think you knew that from the very beginning didn¡¯t you?¡± I asked tersely, prompting the small thing to finally break eye contact, not that his eye contact was impressive to begin with. ¡°I¡­ I had my suspicions as to that being the case, yes.¡± He admitted, yet again skirting around the issue. ¡°Suspicions?¡± I sighed with a frustrated breath, before bringing out the letter Sorecar had painstakingly put back together. The Vunerian¡¯s eyes grew wide at that, as he reached up to grab it, yet found himself unable to do that even as I held it at shoulder-height. ¡°That was not meant for your eyes, newrealmer!¡± ¡°I know, and I¡¯m sorry. But given the crap you¡¯re embroiled in, and given what you¡¯re asking of me, I need to know the full scope of the story. If we¡¯re going to do this, if you¡¯re going to get out of this alive, I need you to be frank with me. I¡¯m not going to be able to help you if I lack critical context that completely changes the math in this whole equation. Because trust me when I say this-¡± I paused, briefly glancing towards Thacea for just a short moment. ¡°-what¡¯s coming up is going to require us to go over every detail, as minor as they may be, for the sake of this case.¡± Ilunor paused at that, at the latter word in particular, as he craned his head up with a look of genuine confusion. ¡°Case?¡± ¡°Yeah, like a weird magical trial. You didn¡¯t think the library would just gobble you up whole, did you?¡± ¡°I¡­ I assumed that the only option available was for you to utilize your library card to somehow excuse my actions-¡± ¡°If it were that easy, I¡¯d have done it already.¡± I interrupted with yet another frustrated sigh. ¡°But this isn¡¯t your typical noble power play situation. The library¡¯s a whole different beast, Ilunor. It operates by its own logic and what it deems fair. And right now, it wants both justice to be served, and recompense to be paid.¡± I clarified, before moving on just as quickly. ¡°Now, I¡¯m assuming you know about divination, right?¡± That one word was enough for Ilunor to once more pipe back down, his eyes growing wide with equal parts worry and equal parts utter dread as he took a good half minute before responding. ¡°Yes. What about it, newrealmer?¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to be blunt with my question here, Ilunor. Do you or do you not have a divination-preventing spell, trap, curse, or whatever the hell magical-speak for it is, installed in your head? Because the library¡¯s way of ascertaining truth is by using that spell or what-have-you on a potential suspect. Now, your letter here leads me to believe that you think the library¡¯s going to find you guilty regardless. And I know you¡¯re smart enough to know that the Nexus is going to deliver you dead to the library tomorrow anyways. So the most logical way out is to turn yourself in, so that the library can read your brain to discover the full conspiracy. But clearly, judging by the letter and your assumptions on your fate, you somehow think that¡¯s impossible. This all leaves me with only one assumption, that there¡¯s something, somehow, blocking that simple fix to our whole issue. So tell me, is that true?¡± The Vunerian once more broke eye contact with me, or at least, what passed for eye contact with his eyes finding it difficult to truly penetrate the opaque lenses as was the case with so many others. He hesitated, one of his arms reaching over to the other in order to grip it tightly, clenching at the ostentatious fabric that covered it. ¡°Yes. Yes it is.¡± ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you tell me-¡± ¡°Because I didn¡¯t want to give you the impression that I was a completely lost cause, newrealmer!¡± He finally admitted with an exasperated breath on the verge of breaking down. His voice, for the very first time, hitched up to a degree that teetered on the edge of sobbing. ¡°Because I knew if I told you outright, it would immediately prompt a simple conclusion to be made¡­ that there simply does not exist any other avenue out of my predicament. For what case is there to be made for my sake? And what hope do I have of convincing you to help me when any help, save for divine intervention from His Eternal Majesty himself, would¡¯ve been an exercise in futility?¡± He violently gestured to the room around him, to nothing in particular. ¡°I have no evidence to back up my claims of the black robe¡¯s involvement. There exists no trace of his plots and conspiracies save for the memories I hold in my head. And without evidence, then all hope at a case being made is lost. As a result, any hope of requesting aid is lost with it. For who in their right mind would risk their own skin and scale, their own reputation, their own standing with the library of all entities, defending a case that has no chance of success? Even you, newrealmer, would know a lost cause when you see one. This is why I assumed once you came across this fact, that you would¡­¡± The Vunerian trailed off, prompting me to complete his thoughts for him. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Give up?¡± ¡°Yes. As you clearly are considering now I presume.¡± The Vunerian sighed in defeat. ¡°You keep making miscalculations, Ilunor.¡± I began, seemingly acknowledging the small thing¡¯s self-admitted fate. ¡°And this assumption of yours, is yet another one of those miscalculations.¡± That sudden shift in both tone and narrative direction clearly took Ilunor by surprise, as he quickly turned his attention back to me yet again, unable to see the reassuring grin currently manifesting underneath my helmet. Hopefully, he¡¯d at least hear it in my voice. ¡°Let me tell you something, Ilunor. Before my arrival in the Nexus, I knew for a fact that there wasn¡¯t a guarantee the armor would work as planned, nor was there a guarantee that the portal would be safe to begin with. You¡¯re talking to someone who¡¯s willing to take that leap of faith, to take the plunge, embrace the risk, even if it means my own death. It¡¯s in my people¡¯s nature to defy the odds, to say screw it to the risks, to throw caution to the wind, and to embrace the uncertainty of tackling what fate has to offer one punch at a time. So I¡¯m not about to let one simple little complication¡­ okay scratch that, one big complication, mess up what I¡¯ve already committed to.¡± I quickly gesticulated to the door. ¡°I told you I was going to the library to assess things for myself, and I have. I just know there must be ways of sidestepping this obstacle. Either through some clever finagling or haggling or whatever we need to do, we¡¯ll get through this.¡± I paused my wild gesticulations, my long-winded tirade, to make one final point, to hammer home to the Vunerian my stance on all of this. ¡°Simply put, Ilunor, you¡¯re wrong. Because I¡¯m not giving up. At least, not as long as there¡¯s still a battle to be fought.¡± The Vunerian¡¯s face went completely blank, as his eyes stared up through to my own with a mix of disbelief and genuine vacancy. In a way, he looked almost like a discount plush toy right now with how lifeless and big his eyes had gotten. ¡°You¡¯re insane, newrealmer.¡± He announced under a hushed breath. ¡°I mean¡­¡± I trailed off, shrugging. ¡°I guess I can¡¯t dispute that. That¡¯s sort of a universal trait among those who want to stand out amongst my kind, after all.¡± I chuckled awkwardly. ¡°And yet you embrace that insanity with pride rather than with shame.¡± Ilunor replied, his eyes darting left and right, as if trying to visually calculate his options. ¡°I admit, my hesitation to trust you with the whole picture might have indeed been a miscalculation.¡± ¡°That¡¯s an understatement of the century if I¡¯ve ever heard one.¡± Thalmin added snarkily, prompting Ilunor to side-eye him for only the briefest of glimpses. ¡°And I admit my shortcomings on that front.¡± He spoke with a great deal of hesitation, clearly unaccustomed to admitting any mistakes or pitfalls of his own doing. ¡°There¡¯s no other way to go about it, newrealmer. What you have ascertained is correct. A curse has been placed on me, pertaining to a certain segment of my memories.¡± He paused, finally regaining appropriate eye contact, albeit through watery, tear-ridden eyes. ¡°I think you can guess which memories in particular. But suffice it to say this curse was separate and distinct from the contract. Indeed, it acts as the last line of defense between the conspiracy and the truth.¡± There was yet another pause, as Ilunor hesitated for a moment, before letting out a sigh and continuing with yet another shaky breath. ¡°It is a crude curse, one that not merely blocks out any form of divination¡­ but maliciously and actively destroys not just the memories affected, but all memories upon its activation.¡± It was at that point that my heart just dropped, as the letter in my hand suddenly felt a little bit heavier. ¡°This is why-¡± ¡°This is why turning myself in would¡¯ve been a literal death sentence anyways, yes.¡± Ilunor concluded, his tone of voice similar to those who were at death¡¯s door. ¡°Alright.¡± I managed out with a sigh of my own. ¡°First of all, let me state for the record-¡± I paused, meeting the gaze of everyone in the room. ¡°-screw Mal¡¯tory. Just¡­ god¡­ that dude¡­ he just¡­¡± I began fumbling my words, prompting me to reorient myself with a steady breath. ¡°Second of all, thank you, Ilunor, for telling me the whole picture.¡± This prompted the Vunerian to nod sheepishly, as if unsure as to how to take that ¡®compliment¡¯. ¡°So with all that being said, I think it¡¯s time we put our heads together for this thing.¡± I announced. ¡°To summarize the developments on my end in rapid succession¡­ One: We have to get Ilunor to the library before sunrise or else he gets axed by the Nexus. Two: Whoever brings Ilunor to the library gets to speak for him. Which guarantees the library will hear us out. Three, and probably most important: with the mind reading thing ruled out, we have to do this the old fashioned way - arguing our case with evidence.¡± The whole room stared at me with eager, awaiting eyes, as if ready for some final play by some grand chess master. ¡°Alright that¡¯s all I got so far, anyone have any ideas on how we could do this thing?¡± I could feel the tension in the air actually cracking, the expectations shattering as Iaid out the groundwork for this extracurricular group activity. Needless to say, Thacea¡¯s expressions said it all: a look of complete and utter frustrated disbelief. This expression was even more pronounced on Ilunor¡¯s face. Thalmin, however, seemed to be the only one to truly embrace it in stride. If his eager look of determination was anything to go by. ¡°Whilst we might not have the smoking hand, nor the radiant wand by which this conspiracy was fired, we do have the remains of its collateral.¡± He pointed to the Vunerian¡¯s bed, or more specifically, what rested upon it. The invisibility blanket. ¡°Oh. OH!¡± I shot out, snapping my fingers in the process¡­ resulting in nothing but the insultingly unsatisfying sounds of two hi-grip, hi-friction palm-pads rubbing against one another fruitlessly. All eyes were on me as I tried, but failed, to get even a meek snap to form out of the two grippy surfaces. ¡°Okay! Yeah! An nth-tier legendary artifact that was used in the scene of the crime. Now that¡¯s something we can work with! That¡¯s definitely something we can work with, right?¡± ¡°There¡¯s still no means of connecting the blanket to Professor Mal¡¯tory himself, Emma.¡± Thacea pointed out bluntly. ¡°True, but couldn¡¯t we make a case that Ilunor couldn¡¯t have possibly gotten his hands on it?¡± ¡°He¡¯s a noble, Emma.¡± Thacea retorted without so much as a hint of mercy. ¡°There is precedence for nobles and royals alike being able to attain such artifacts. At a high cost, perhaps, but it isn¡¯t impossible.¡± I could feel a certain level of noble-superiority seeping through there, which Thacea seemed to realize as well, judging by the look of her face. ¡°Not that I mean any offense at your commoner status, Emma.¡± She quickly corrected herself. ¡°No offense taken, princess.¡± I turned towards Thacea for a half-hearted sarcastic bow, before pressing forward. ¡°Right, okay, scratch that then. We attack it from a different angle. We¡¯ll still state our case, it¡¯s the truth after all, but we¡¯re going to emphasize the whole trade aspect of this. Hand this in as a gesture of good faith, showing the library that we¡¯re willing to cooperate, and that we¡¯re putting our best foot out by acquiring everything that was used against the library to better prepare it for the next attack.¡± I suggested, raising both of my hands up in the process. ¡°Then that¡¯s not really a legal proceeding, Emma.¡± Thacea replied matter-of-factly, which prompted me to respond with a resounding nod. ¡°Precisely! The library¡¯s shown to be quite flexible when it comes to arrangements. I¡¯m sure that its court of owls and foxes isn¡¯t going to be strict either.¡± ¡°You sound¡­ overly confident about something drawn from conjecture.¡± Thacea once more shot back, this time with a questioning coo. ¡°And do you have more sources or data to pull from other than what we¡¯ve both experienced so far?¡± I rebounded, not so much arguing, as I was trying to make my case. That answer seemed to strike a chord in Thacea, as she relented with an exasperated sigh of her own. ¡°Point taken, Emma.¡± ¡°Listen, the fact is, we¡¯re going to be throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks.¡± I continued, trying my best to placate the princess¡¯ worries by taking the edge off of the whole affair. Whether or not it worked was a different matter entirely as another idea hit me as soon as I spoke. ¡°Which reminds me, Ilunor-¡± I turned to the titular blue thing in question. ¡°-on the topic of the blanket, you said Mal¡¯tory gave you a potion to drink, right? One that changed your fire to be able to burn the books in the library?¡± Ilunor nodded warily at this, still quite shaken up by that whole deal no doubt. ¡°That¡¯s something else we can use to our advantage. Do you still have the bottle?¡± But as with many things when it came to the Vunerian, the answer was a decidedly disappointing no. ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, Emma.¡± ¡°Did you throw it away? Maybe there¡¯s still time for us to like rummage through collections or-¡± ¡°No. As is the case with most potion bottles, the bottle in question dematerialized upon consumption of its contents.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± I responded with a resounding look of disbelief. ¡°Ok you know what, that actually makes a lot of sense. I just didn¡¯t expect the mechanic to apply in real life as well.¡± The whole gang looked at me with varying levels of confusion at that, which I dismissed with a wave of my hand. ¡°Right, back on track then, I¡¯m assuming your fire still has traces of whatever it is that messed with it?¡± Ilunor¡¯s expressions shifted increasingly darker at that, as if I¡¯d pointed out some deep-seated point of shame or something. ¡°That seems to be the case, yes.¡± He reluctantly admitted, which definitely helped to explain Sorecar¡¯s comments about how the letter was burned with a little something extra outside of dragon flame. ¡°Alright, I guess that¡¯s good enough. We¡¯ll also submit that as evidence, trading material, or whatever you want to call it to the library.¡± I paused, before shifting my tone to something a bit less bombastic, and a bit more reassuring. ¡°And I¡¯m sure by submitting it, they¡¯ll be extracting whatever magic is causing your fire to go haywire as well, Ilunor.¡± This sudden bout of reassurance that went beyond the practical issues at hand seemed to trigger yet another error in Ilunor¡¯s code, as he stared back with a look of vacant disbelief. ¡°Emma.¡± Thacea began abruptly. ¡°Given the extent of your realm¡¯s¡­ unconventional development. I must ask.¡± Her eyes leveled against my own with a stark, no-nonsense stare. ¡°Do manaless methods of divination exist?¡± This caught Thalmin and Ilunor¡¯s full attention, as all eyes were once more focused squarely on me. I knew where Thacea was going with this. ¡°Yes and no.¡± I answered sheepishly. ¡°If you¡¯re talking about full-on mind reading? Yeah, no, that technology was highly invasive and was starting to become abused before legislators stepped in. Heck, it was one of the pivotal events that cemented the ethics council as a legitimate political entity. If you¡¯re talking about lie detectors? That¡¯s a big maybe. However, the fact of the matter is that Ilunor¡¯s anatomy and physiology is completely alien to my med-tech. It would require decades of research to get anything to be cross-species compatible, and we¡¯re talking starting from the ground up with case studies to meta analyses and-¡± [ALERT: INFIL-DRONE01 REQUESTING DOCKING AUTHORIZATION. STATUS: RTB. MISSION STATUS: PARAMETERS UNFULFILLED. CAUSE: PATHFINDING ERROR. DETAILS: Preestablished routes are incompatible with current sensor telemetry.] I quickly turned towards the door, a pair of reticles highlighting the insect-like drone that had returned in a surprisingly speedy fashion after I¡¯d sent it out to scout out Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office just an hour earlier before this whole back and forth with Ilunor began. But instead of providing the answers we so desperately needed, or giving us something we could use as the ace up our sleeve, the small thing returned with nothing. ¡°Right, yeah, we definitely don¡¯t have much beyond this to work with.¡± I admitted with a frustrated sigh. ¡°You were right, Thacea.¡± I turned towards the avinor. ¡°The path to Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office shifts and changes constantly, making the previous path from my trip to his office practically useless.¡± We all stood there in silence for the longest while, the conversation springing back up to life again sporadically as we tossed ideas around, most of them falling flat, but some of them circling back to the same plans and ideas. That we would be telling the library as much as we could, giving it what we had on hand, and then seeing where we could go from there. I was, after all, arguing this from the privileged position of a patron. That had to count for something, right?
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. En Route to the Library. Local Time: 2300 Hours. Emma Booker This was it. Ilunor¡¯s endgame. We managed to make it to the terrace without issue. However, instead of the dead silence of the night, I was instead met with a scene straight out of a period comedy. In fact, I could swear I ¡®heard¡¯ marching music of all things. ¡°NOW! TONIGHT, WE¡¯RE GOING TO DO MARCHING UP AND DOWN THE TERRACE! That is¡­ unless ANY of you have anything better to do?¡± I heard a distinctly accented voice assaulting my ears, one that I could immediately attribute to a certain eccentric apprentice. ¡°WELL COME ON THEN, ANY OBJECTIONS?¡± The hooded apprentice continued, receiving nothing in response, nothing, but the sudden click of the doors that resonated louder than it should¡¯ve in the otherwise calm and silent evening night. ¡°W-what?¡± The apprentice turned towards us, shocked, and genuinely taken aback. That was, until he narrowed his eyes, and his face did a complete return to his formerly authoritative tone. ¡°You lot again?! What is with you and your constant back and forths with the library, huh?¡± He shouted in our direction incredulously, leaving the formation of gargoyles that remained inanimate. ¡°I could ask the same for you, good sir. Seeing as you¡¯re asking questions to¡­¡± I intentionally paused, gesturing to what was effectively just row upon rows of statues at this point. ¡°... inanimate constructs.¡± The apprentice couldn¡¯t help but to guffaw incredulously at that question. But instead of providing any answers, he deflected it completely. ¡°That is Academy business, young lady. Now, are any of you here planning for a late night visit to the library?¡± He turned to the rest of the gang, each of whom nodded with varying levels of confusion. ¡°And you then, are you the mastermind behind this gaggle of fools? Marching up and down the bridge whenever you feel like it? With you and your golden library card?¡± He directed that question towards me, prompting me to nod in response as well. Yet instead of being stonewalled, or instead of being blockaded by some other absurd Nexian rule, the apprentice- ¡°Alright, off you go then.¡± -simply let us go. We wordlessly inched our way around the man, the pitter-patter of our boots and shoes clacking all the way up and across the bridge. About halfway across, I could once again hear the man piping back up. As if resuming his little drill sergeant larping without a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°Alright then! Senior Apprentice marching up and down the terrace with his formation, START!¡± My rear cameras confirmed it. The man was now ¡®marching¡¯ up and down the terrace. But the gargoyles didn¡¯t follow. Instead, they remained static, with only their heads slowly following the man around the terrace. Let¡¯s hope the library would be more sane than the world around it. Chapter 54: Better Call Emma! The Library Emma Booker We entered the library. Or at least, I assumed it was the library. As I quickly found myself thrust into a space that was far more cramped than it should have been. Gone was the airy expansive atrium, and its connected halls that branched forever into infinity. Gone too was the dark and dreary dungeon of obsidian, slate, and cobblestone, whose maze-like corridors folded and abstracted inwards into nothing. In its place was a quaint room. Or at least, quaint by Nexian and library standards. As it felt more like the lobby of one of those heritage woodland hotels that was adamant on sacrificing all of the worldly comforts of modernity for the irreplicable experience of authenticity. In the place of a complex design of at least four different stones per square feet, were solid beams of unlacquered wood that covered all four sides of the room, floor included. In the place of a ceiling that was second only to those grand revivalist domes in Europe was an open A-frame roof with a modest loft covered in layer upon layer of hand-knitted tapestries and woven quilts. I could tell they were hand-knitted too, as unlike everything else in the Nexus thus far, their flawed design, and imperfect patterns, were on proud display. No space was wasted in this quaint room. As in a similar vein to those solartown communities, every inch of available space was smartly used up, all without risking walking into the trap that was clutter. Bookshelves were carved into the four major support beams that kept the A-frame roof aloft. More shelving units of similarly rustic build quality lined all the available wall-space there was, which was to say, there wasn¡¯t much of them at all. But what shelves did exist were packed to the brim with books. Each of their spines consisted of titles with lettering that was haphazard and inconsistent, like they were each etched by hand as opposed to uniformly printed like the rest of the books in the library. More interestingly, the language being used wasn¡¯t being translated by the EVI. Which meant it wasn¡¯t High Nexian. The strange lettering actually reminded me of the book of punishments Buddy had brought out earlier. [Point of Active Interpolation: Logographic, Syllabilic, Alphabetic similarities to HIGH NEXIAN¡­ 0.2 PERCENT. Parsing 10 potential distinct scripts and languages. Closest calculable relationship¡­ UNKNOWN LANGUAGE 02 at¡­ 97.3 PERCENT accuracy as calculated using current available datasets. ] A thought that was quickly corroborated by the EVI, as it immediately confirmed my suspicions without needing any prompting. The IAS¡¯ eggheads did say the thing was adaptive to its user¡¯s input and ¡®command style¡¯ after all. It just didn¡¯t occur to me it¡¯d be this quick in its adaptiveness. Regardless, it was clear that even the rest of the gang seemed more or less shocked by this new setting. Each of them performed their own double-takes as they maintained a tight cohesive grouping around me and Ilunor. Walking further in, we were almost immediately greeted by what could only be described as a ¡®front desk¡¯ of sorts. A wrap-around counter reminiscent of those bars you find at medieval themed inns. Similar to the rest of the wooden constructs in the room, its surfaces were unlacquered, unpolished, and could barely be described as finished or processed in any way, save for the woodcutting used to bring it down to an appropriate shape and size. Behind the counter was a corkboard, one that seemed to have different caricatures drawn on paper and haphazardly pinned up. One image in particular caught my attention, what seemed to be a sketch drawn in crayon of a bustling campsite, with a particularly large tent dominating the middle of the grounds. [ALERT: CONTACT DETECTED. IFF UNKNOWN.] But all of that was quickly put aside as the EVI quickly highlighted the appearance of a new contact. My attention was hastily drawn back with a spike of adrenaline, as a humanoid figure of roughly Thalmin¡¯s height suddenly entered the fray from an unseen backroom just behind the wooden counter. All four of us instinctively got into a battle-ready position almost all at once. Thalmin unsheathing his sword, Thacea poising herself for some sort of a magical strike, and Ilunor¡­ quickly reaching for his blanket. Yet before anything could happen, the figure¡¯s face finally came into view by virtue of a magical flame being lit on the counter, revealing his hooded shadowy face to be none other than that of a familiar, friendly vulpine. ¡°B-buddy?¡± I announced hesitantly, pulling my hand away from my holster. ¡°INDEED IT IS I, EMMA!¡± He exclaimed giddily, panting excitedly once more as in a matter of seconds, what had been a vaguely humanoid shape suddenly burst open, revealing at least 4 foxes underneath the large oversized suit of armor. Each of whom promptly scampered off into different directions, leaving a pile of leather, cloth, and bits and pieces of armor to fall limply to the floor in their wake. ¡°What¡­ what is all of this?¡± I continued, my face scrunching up in confusion underneath my helmet, as the little fox settled down politely on the counter, shaking off the remnants of that outfit. ¡°I informed you earlier did I not, Emma?¡± Buddy cocked his little head in a way only a canine, or in this case, a vulpine could. His perky triangular ears bounced as a result. ¡°The library will observe and-¡± ¡°-react accordingly.¡± I interrupted the fox, completing that sentence for him. Repeating those vague few words Buddy had used to affirm my little commitment to the bounty-hunting quest of bringing Ilunor in. I looked around once more, out of a habit and a desire to reinforce my current mood through these simple uses of body language. ¡°How¡­ how does any of this fit into the library reacting accordingly? And what was that whole deal with the outfit all about-?¡± ¡°Ah! Well, you see this was-¡± ¡°-is. Not was.¡± A familiar voice suddenly interjected. The librarian¡¯s entrance this time was far more modest than it had been before. Gone were the huge gusts of wind and the thump thump thump of the flapping of his wings. Instead, he merely emerged from the back, walking along the counter until he once more found himself perched atop of Buddy¡¯s head. ¡°I will take it from here, Buddy.¡± He spoke, before turning towards me. ¡°This-¡± The owl gestured throughout the room with both wings. ¡°-is the lobby, Cadet Emma Booker. A space that is reserved for those of private intent and unbound by written treaty to deliver articles of interest from the world outside. The space you-¡± The owl paused once more, taking a moment to carefully glare at Thacea, Thalmin, and Ilunor in rapid succession. ¡°-and your compatriots find yourselves in, is referred to as The Seeker¡¯s Respite by many who had once frequented this particular location within the library.¡± ¡°And I assume it¡¯s been a long while since anyone actually used this space.¡± I paused, once more gesturing around me for good measure. ¡°Let alone visited it.¡± The librarian nodded promptly in response. ¡°You would be correct in that assumption, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°The rustic design sort of speaks for itself. And the books sort of give it away too.¡± I pointed to one of the many overstuffed shelves. ¡°The language used here, it¡¯s not High Nexian now is it? Heck, I doubt it¡¯s even in the same language family as High Nexian. I¡¯m assuming it predates it?¡± I offered out my little theory with a confident grin. ¡°A prudent analysis.¡± The owl responded with an increasing hint of what I could only describe as excitement welling up in between each hoot. ¡°No doubt a result of your¡­ living, breathing, dynamic system of mathematics I presume?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not up for discussion right now, Librarian.¡± ¡°Of course, I wouldn¡¯t wish to sully this novel occasion by bringing up matters outside of its relevance.¡± The librarian hooted out apologetically, before narrowing his eyes to the Vunerian in a way only a bird of prey sizing up its next meal could. ¡°Indeed, quite a novel occasion this truly is. For the first time in what the world outside would define as untold eons, the library now receives its first article of tribute by an independent agent, unbound, untethered, and completely removed from any of the ties that bind. An article which in today¡¯s case, comes in the form of a handing off of the perpetrator of the great scarring. Which, through the process of elimination, I assume to be this blue Vunerian?¡± Ilunor could only look on, unable to avert his gaze from the owl, as his whole body trembled in place. I quickly jumped in, both literally and figuratively before any magical shenanigans could commence. Which, given there was no burst in mana radiation yet, meant that divination had yet to take place. ¡°The situation is far more complicated than it might at first seem, librarian.¡± ¡°Oh? How so? For it seems as if you have brought this blue Vunerian in for a reason, Cadet Emma Booker. Am I to assume that he isn¡¯t the perpetrator behind the great scarring?¡± ¡°No, he isn¡¯t.¡± I responded matter of factly. ¡°In fact, I brought him here because despite being the hand that dealt the library its grievous scars-¡± The whole room shuddered, this time, it felt even more visceral. With wood creaking, bending, bowing, and visibly shifting in place, before finally¡­ it died down as quickly as it started. ¡°-he was merely acting as an unwitting hand, the forcibly conscripted agent of someone else.¡± ¡°Coerced and forced against his will into enacting the will and intentions of another, under a contract signed under duress.¡± Thacea quickly chimed in with a short and succinct chirp, an undertone of nervousness hidden underneath a layer of unwavering stoicism. I nodded subtly towards Thacea, before pressing forwards. ¡°I bring you this Vunerian because if I did not, then the Nexus would¡¯ve brought him to you dead. Thus forever obscuring the truth behind his supposed actions. For the Vunerian is as much a victim in a grander conspiracy as you, Buddy, and the rest of the library are. A grand conspiracy that was prompted by my arrival, perpetuated by my mere existence, and then acted upon by virtue of the fear inherent within those that see my mana-less innovations as a threat. The library, and indeed the information stored within its walls, was simply in the crosshairs of a greater conspiracy at play. One which is predicated on the understanding that the fundamentals of the game have changed, and that the Nexus, for the first time in its history, now finds itself at a disadvantage. A disadvantage incurred by virtue of the potential for a trade deficit, and the very real possibility that I might take advantage of it, as I already have with regards to the Null and the Minor Shards of Impart.¡± ¡°And forgive me for the brashness of my joining this conversation once more, great librarian.¡± Thacea suddenly chimed in, as if sensing that I was at the end of my own argument, and choosing to back me up before the librarian could have his say. She paused, only continuing after the librarian gave her the floor to speak with a slight nod of his head. ¡°But as far as I am aware, there has yet to have been an instance that an individual, nay, a representative from a newrealm was in possession of information that was on equal bearing in category, and equal if not superior value in weight when it came to such topics as the Null or the Minor Shards of Impart. Indeed, for as far as I am aware, there has yet to have been an instance in which a newrealmer has so effortlessly utilized the services of the library, in trading for such matters which supersede even the most advanced of tomes in possession by the greatest of adjacent realms.¡± Both the owl, and my own eyes, widened at Thacea¡¯s sudden surge of confidence in addressing, if not outright challenging the library head on. ¡°As a peer, and a historical and cultural liaison to Cadet Emma Booker¡¯s presence here in the library and in the wider Academy, I believe it is my duty to not only clarify points of ambiguity as they arise, but to also provide vital context by which the magnitude and significance of certain actions should be assessed. Which, in the context of this conspiracy, is vital. As drawing from the available pool of information afforded to me by my station as an adjacent royal, I recall no other instance of such a feat being recorded in historical records¡­ save for rumors and whispers of a similar incident during the Great War.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°I second this notion.¡± Thalmin suddenly, and abruptly, entered the fray. A proud grin plastered across his face. ¡°And it must be acknowledged that regardless of where the rumors start and the truths end, that such a critical shift in the information disparity will directly and invariably lead to a fundamental reshuffling of the balance of powers. A reshuffling the likes of which have not been seen since or prior to the Great War.¡± ¡°Which would inevitably lead to a disruption of the Status Eternia.¡± Thacea concluded Thalmin¡¯s points with a hint of finality. ¡°Which would most assuredly lead to any within the upper echelons of power with any knowledge of Cadet Emma Booker¡¯s existence to be wary at best and outright panicked at worst.¡± Thalmin once more added. ¡°All of which leads to the formation of the conspiracy to rid me of my ability to take advantage of this information disparity to begin with.¡± I stepped in, bringing all of this back to where it all began. ¡°By destroying the very information they feared I could¡¯ve accessed with the deficit I hold.¡± Those final few words of my opening argument reverberated throughout the small room. The librarian, who had remained silent all throughout our conspiratorial tirades, raised a single talon to where his ¡®chin¡¯ should¡¯ve been. As he seemed to regard every bit of information carefully, with eyes deep in analytical thought. ¡°With great claims comes the greater burden of proof, Cadet Emma Booker-¡± He paused, before turning to Thacea and Thalmin respectively. ¡°-and friends. So I expect that enough evidence has been gathered to support your claims.¡± He spoke in a no-nonsense manner, not readily dismissing our grand claims of conspiracy, but not willing to accept it just yet. All three of us turned to one another at about the same time, locking eyes, as if trying to gauge who would be best to lead the charge into this next, decidedly difficult chapter in the argument. ¡°The burden of proof is something that I¡¯m very well aware of, Librarian.¡± I began, not once breaking the confidence in my vocal stride. ¡°But it is also something that has been a challenge to come by, given the extensive nature of this conspiracy. To keep things simple, I will explain everything there is to be explained, from start, to middle, to end.¡± The owl, with a firm and affirmative nod, urged me to continue. Which I did. As time began to morph into what was effectively an abstract construct in light of everything I had to say. I went over every detail, urging Ilunor to fill in the blanks whenever I got something wrong, or whenever something was lost in translation. Thacea and Thalmin remained surprisingly stoic throughout all of this, despite all of our collective mental and physical exhaustion. It took just around a full hour to get everything laid out, as we covered everything from the nature of Ilunor¡¯s contract, to its foundation as a document signed under duress and blackmail, to Mal¡¯tory¡¯s schemes and every single action committed by Ilunor as part of the contract. At the end of it all, we finally touched base on the nature of Ilunor¡¯s memory-curse, and the dangers that divination would have on his very life. That last part proved to be a real sticking point for the owl. All of this context however, led the owl to return to his initial requests, as he clacked his talons against Buddy¡¯s scalp. Resulting in something that more resembled a really intense scalp massage rather than its intended thoughtful movements. ¡°And the evidence, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Like I said, the contract itself is unrecoverable. However, I have other pieces of evidence, as well as information I would like to submit. As gestures of goodwill, and as a test of good faith of my intent.¡± I spoke, before turning towards Thalmin, outstretching an expecting hand. The mercenary prince reciprocated almost immediately by handing me the first article in question. ¡°Exhibit A.¡± I began, my tone of voice inadvertently mimicking those courtroom lawyer shows. ¡°The aforementioned blanket-¡± ¡°-cloak.¡± Thalmin whispered, before I could fully commit to my mistake. ¡°-cloak of invisibility.¡± I quickly corrected myself as I unfurled the quilted fabric. Shaking it a few times for dramatic effect before handing it over to the owl by rolling it up, and placing it right on the countertop. The owl peered down at it intensely, not yet responding, completely transfixed by each and every fiber of its woven detail. ¡°This is¡­ new.¡± The owl acknowledged with a nod. ¡°Which is exactly how the Vunerian was able to sneak around undetected. You had no knowledge of this particular method of magical invisibility, and as a result, you had no defenses against it to speak of.¡± I proclaimed boldly, prompting Thacea¡¯s eyes to once more bulge out in incredulous shock, as if I¡¯d just insulted some great deity or something. But instead of being struck down by the hand of god, nothing of note really happened. In fact, we were rewarded by the presence of two foxes, each of whom began picking up the blanket on either side of its rolled up ends. Before they carefully, and in a surprising display of coordination, walked it off to the back where they all disappeared without a trace. ¡°Exhibit B.¡± This time, I turned towards Ilunor himself, who at this point seemed to have had all the color drained from his face. He didn¡¯t so much as even flinch as both my, and the owl¡¯s eyes, once more peered down on his diminutive form. Prompting him to freeze in place, like a deer in headlights as he let out a small, barely audible, meep. ¡°The source of this strange fire that was able to scar the library¡¯s books in the first place. I know, that you know, it wasn¡¯t just dragon flame. Heck, I even got outside confirmation by a very reliable source that this isn¡¯t something in common circulation or that¡¯s even widely known amongst the circles of those in the magical-know.¡± Thanks Sorecar. I quickly thought to myself. ¡°Because dragon flame alone wouldn''t have hurt the library. It was dragon flame, and a little something extra.¡± I quoted the man himself, before moving beside Ilunor, and patting him firmly on his back. ¡°And I¡¯d like you to take a look at it yourself. The remnants of this magical additive to dragon flame is still in his system. This should give you all the information you need. To confirm that it was this brand of flame in particular that dealt the library this blow, as well as how best to prepare for it so that you can better prepare for a potential future assault.¡± The owl took flight, hovering just above Ilunor as he spoke in no uncertain terms. ¡°The library wishes to confirm these claims by casting several spells which will analyze, isolate, and remove any remnants of this supposed additive from your mortal form. Do you wish to comply?¡± Ilunor nodded wordlessly at that, almost defeatedly, as several things began happening all at once. The first of which, looked to be something akin to a magical spotlight, singling Ilunor out from the rest of the room. Second, was the appearance of several foxes, who had come out of seemingly nowhere, emerging from unseen corners as they surrounded Ilunor in a perfect circle. Third, the ground beneath the Vunerian began rising above the rest of the room, leaving a literal gaping hole into the void beneath it, which I recognized as the same white void that the windows in the library¡¯s typical configuration led to. A few moments of silence punctuated the tense scene, before finally, the spotlight intensified; going sepia tone as if someone had applied an egregious AR filter to my lenses. The Vunerian¡¯s eyes began rolling up, his pupils receding, as what looked to be a sickly, ghostly collection of gasses began emerging from his gaping maw; rising up into a collection of clouds that hung ominously over the whole scene. A small vial was soon brought in by one of the foxes, which was quickly used as a storage container for the strange gasses. Soon enough, and without much fanfare, that same fox leapt up, grabbing the vial and then running off into the back, disappearing as suddenly as he arrived. ¡°This is likewise¡­ new.¡± The owl suddenly spoke, breaking the ominous silence of the whole affair as Ilunor was suddenly brought out of that trance. Despite that, the sepia tone that had enveloped the room still remained. In fact, the platform was still raised, and the circle of foxes remained sitting, their noses pointed up towards the floating platform and the Vunerian standing atop of it. ¡°You have proven the guilt of the Vunerian, Cadet Emma Booker. And for that, the library thanks you.¡± I felt my heart suddenly sinking right into my gut as I heard that, as I felt like I knew where all of this was headed, and the direction the library had taken. A looming sense of impending doom quickly gripped me, cinching its tendrils around my chest as it tightened with a vice grip. I felt my breath hitching, my mind running through the motions of bringing up the final few cards we had left to play. ¡°But by that same line of reasoning, the library finds itself at a loss.¡± The owl continued, prompting a sudden respite in my anxieties. ¡°These two pieces of evidence would be enough to condemn the Vuenrian to his fate, ushering in the expectant results of a mortal¡¯s greatest desires - the recognition, the potential for glory, and the tangible rewards upon completing a self-directed quest not seen in eons. Yet you dash this with your claims of conspiracy, and your attempts to frame this presumably simple case in a manner which outright prevents you from attaining this simple victory. And for that, the library wishes to ask, why? Why do you insist on pursuing a case with no evidence aside from the circumstantial, with no true links to that which you claim to be behind a greater plot?¡± ¡°Because that¡¯s the truth, Librarian.¡± I answered simply and truthfully. ¡°And is that not what the library is about?¡± I turned to face upwards, at the ceiling, mimicking the motions the owl and Buddy had used before to address something else hidden in the darkness. ¡°To search for the truth? To seek out what is real?¡± The whole room shuddered once more in response to my words, with the wood audibly creaking and groaning under the weight of what sounded like something above the roof itself. The owl didn¡¯t reply, as if he was once more deep in thought. ¡°Well? Is it or is it not, Librarian?¡± I egged him on, once more prompting Thacea¡¯s worrisome features to return to the forefront, this time triggering a similar reaction in Thalmin¡¯s features. ¡°To seek out the truth, you could say, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The owl responded inquisitively. ¡°Yes. And heck, you can check the Vunerian¡¯s mind right now for that mental trap spell curse thing! It¡¯s there! Exactly as I explained! Who in their right mind would inflict that upon themselves? This is the work of someone else, and-¡± ¡°We know, Cadet Emma Booker. I have sensed it in the prior ritual.¡± The owl interrupted, before letting out a long, sonorous hoot. ¡°With all of this being said¡­ the library¡­ appreciates your candid nature, and your earnest spirit. It¡­ reminds it of earlier times, in so much as this unscripted and highly unconventional proceeding has progressed.¡± The sepia tone in the room suddenly lifted, this time, the whole space seemed to not only return to a normal shade of color, but a more vibrant one, as if someone had cranked my AR settings to a hyper saturated mess. ¡°But as far as the matter of this case is concerned¡­ there are two matters that still need to be settled. The first, being the matter of punishment. The second, being the matter of the dues which remain to be paid.¡± I was about to interject, but it was clear the owl wasn¡¯t having it as he glared at me before I could get another word out. ¡°However, with all that being said, these matters may yet be resolved in a manner which befits your novelty. Your nature as an independent agent, and the proof of your abilities to act independently from Nexian interests, places you in a very unique position, Cadet Emma Booker. Moreover, your spirit, and your very nature, seems to align closely to a certain type of mortal that the library has not seen in eons. In short, the library wishes to extend an offer. One that should satisfy your intent for the resolution to this particular transgression, and one which would allow you more time as it were, to do so.¡± My eyes began narrowing at the librarian, who remained flying at eye level, just a few feet away from me now. ¡°What are you proposing, librarian?¡± ¡°A position, Cadet Emma Booker. One which has not been filled since before the times of the Nexus, and one which may help to address all of the points you wish to accomplish. As today you have accomplished all of the trials expected of such an honored role. Your delivery of three unique tributes, your direct challenge to the library¡¯s assumptions, and your commitment to the sanctity of truth. These are the prerequisites so many have spent decades attempting to fulfill, for the hope that they may be offered the role which you are being offered now. Cadet Emma Booker, the library wishes to offer you the role of a Seeker.¡± The owl paused, that word seeming to prompt a flurry of mana-related warnings from my HUD as more and more foxes began poking from the few available corners there were in the room. Flooding it with a flurry of puffy red fur. ¡°It is an intermediary role traditionally given to those who wish to prove themselves, a position that is traditionally bound to the accomplishment of a task at the behest of the library or at one¡¯s own personal journey. In this case, your role of seeker would be to accomplish one, very simple task. To exonerate this Vunerian, by virtue of seeking the knowledge which has been lost. And in doing so, clearing the Vunerian of his debts to the library.¡± A new silence descended upon the room as the whole turn of events didn¡¯t just come out of left field, it came from somewhere in low earth orbit. But I should¡¯ve expected this. In fact, I remembered the offer I¡¯d made to Buddy earlier.
I guess the library¡¯s going to get a blast from the past, a taste of the wild times.
¡°You may resume your quest to search for the true culprit of this plot, if you wish to do so.¡± The owl quickly added. ¡°But your quest as a Seeker will see you primarily working towards one single goal, to prove your worthiness of the role. Thus, your quest as a Seeker is simple. To uncover exactly what was lost. As the rediscovery of the contents of which, is not possible until we ascertain exactly what was lost. After which, a path towards exoneration may be drafted for the likes of the Vunerian. But for now, this Seekership will determine the worthiness of the both of you for such a far-reaching endeavor.¡± ¡°And what of the Vunerian now?¡± I quickly asked. ¡°His fate will be tied to the success of your Seekership.¡± The owl spoke plainly. ¡°And what are the catches? What does Seekership entail for me? What are the consequences if I fail to meet whatever requirements exist for this Seekership?¡± ¡°In this case, Cadet Emma Booker? Failure means nothing for you, save for the revoking of your Seekership. However, it has everything to do with the fate of the Vunerian.¡± The owl responded flatly. ¡°As the nature of your Seekership sees him as the subject of your efforts.¡± The whole room went silent once again, as all eyes now rested on me, and the call I had to make. ¡°What say you, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm?¡± Chapter 55: Harbinger of Truth I couldn¡¯t decide whether or not I¡¯d just been thrown straight into a soap opera, or a Greek tragedy. Because the twists and turns of this whole situation had left me with whiplash, and then some. All of this was so sudden. So unexpected in fact that it left me feeling like I¡¯d just been suckerpunched. But in a good way, if that was even possible. I maintained my composure throughout the whole offer, my features not once shifting, because there was nothing really to shift. This was one of the great perks of the armor. This was one of those instances where the armor¡¯s stunting of about half of all human emotive abilities was coming in handy. As it allowed me to play a pretty mean poker face, even if what was underneath the inch or so of helmet was an outright look of dumb confusion mixed with a dazed bewilderment that left my mouth hanging agape. ¡°So, let me get this straight.¡± I began, raising a single finger as I did so. ¡°You¡¯re offering me a position, one that hasn¡¯t been offered in literal eons, just because I happen to have completed some arbitrary trial that I wasn¡¯t aware even existed?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± The owl replied crisply. ¡°Indeed, it was not my, nor the library¡¯s intent to offer you such a time-honored and storied role. However, with circumstances developing beyond what was initially expected, it seemed to be the most expedient and appropriate course of action. As it addresses both of what we seek, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°And that is?¡± I shot back. ¡°For you, it is the determination of truth, and the momentary suspension of the expectant punishments upon that which is currently at the crossroads of our conflict of interests - the Vunerian. For the library, it is the reclamation of lost knowledge, by the hands of an independent party that may act beyond the confines of the treaty and the library¡¯s own rules. Allowing the library to circumvent those limitations, and opening up an opportunity to regain what would otherwise be definitively lost.¡± ¡°So you want a deniable asset.¡± I stated without hesitation, crossing my arms as I did so. ¡°No, because you may freely state your role as a Seeker if you so wish. Your card of patronage will be updated to reflect this, becoming more than a mere card, but a badge worthy of the honor of seekership. Indeed, the library will make no effort to deny your involvement.¡± The owl countered. ¡°The library cares not for the awareness of this operation should its agent wish to make it known, as that itself may be a factor which may aid in the reclamation of said knowledge. Once again, I must emphasize, the library cares not for the world beyond its walls. This likewise extends to the opinions of the denizens beyond the walls, with the exception of the obligation of both parties to uphold the terms of the treaty.¡± ¡°So¡­ you just want someone to do the heavy lifting then.¡± I restated. ¡°Or more specifically, someone to fill a role which allows you to operate beyond the restrictions of that treaty? Is that honestly it?¡± ¡°That is, as you say, it, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± I responded with a huff. ¡°I getcha.¡± I continued, shuffling both of my hands into what would¡¯ve been my BDU jacket pockets, only to result in my arms flailing awkwardly by my side, prompting the owl to cock his head in response. ¡°I have a few more questions before I give you my answer, if that¡¯s alright?¡± ¡°Of course, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± I would be lying if I were to say there wasn¡¯t a part of me, deep down, that wanted to leap at this opportunity without question. But that part of me was driven by tales of fantastical worlds, born out of the excitable mind of a young girl obsessed with fantasy. And whilst that girl was still there, she¡¯d been tempered. As over time, and after too many sessions of Castles and Wyverns and after semesters¡¯ worth of lessons in modern and near-modern history in school, anything involving agreements and contracts immediately set off alarm bells in my head. Even if it was being offered by a cool owl and a fluffy red fox. Because if there¡¯s one thing I¡¯d learned about the Nexus so far, it¡¯s that this realm of magic and sorcery tended to view contracts and agreements in the same way the extrasolar corpos did at the height of their corruption - as free real estate for esoteric legalese that¡¯s designed to trap, ensnare, and benefit only the contract holder. And whilst the extrasolar wars had dealt a stunning blow to that culture centuries ago, leaving that final chapter of corporate exploitation firmly in the past, it was clear that the Nexus, just like the magical realms of Castles and Wyverns, seemed to be obsessed with keeping the tradition alive. ¡°So to set the record straight, what exactly are the terms here? For me to bring back the knowledge of exactly what was lost? And in return, you keep your hands off of the Vunerian until I can do so?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°But how exactly do you plan to enforce this?¡± ¡°Through a system of regular check-ins. Weekly check-ins will be required to report on the progress made. These check-ins will be compelled and enforced by the implementation of a spell, bound through magical oath, that will bind the Vunerian to the agreements of seekership and will intertwine his fate with that of the success, failure, or abandonment of your seeker¡¯s quest. This includes the fulfillment of these regular visits.¡± ¡°Define compelled. And define intertwining his fate.¡± I shot back plainly. ¡°The former is a spell which will compel the will of the bound to commit to the agreed terms. The latter is a spell that binds one¡¯s fate, in effect accomplishing much of the same. As the momentary suspension of the Vunerian¡¯s otherwise assured fate will be annulled, thus, compelling him to submit to the fate awaiting him within the walls of the library.¡± It was at that moment that I couldn¡¯t help but to let out a long drawn out sigh. As I couldn¡¯t help but to feel compelled to put my foot down, right here, right now. ¡°No.¡± I stopped the owl right there, halting it before it could get another word out. ¡°I beg your pardon, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± Living in the present with three centuries separating me from the echoes of extrasolar corpo culture didn¡¯t mean humanity would just up and forget that dark chapter of its past. If anything, education was the key to preventing the mistakes of that past from being repeated. Which was why despite centuries separating the current generation from that of the last extrasolar war, the issues pertinent in that era remained as ingrained in public awareness as the day they were when the war began. ¡°I said, no. I¡¯ve had it up to here-¡± I held my hand up to my neck. ¡°-with these magical contracts and their invasive methods of enforcement. I would be no different to Mal¡¯tory and his ilk if I were to just let you install even more crap into his brain for the purposes of this agreement.¡± I paused, before once more crossing my arms and maintaining my unwavering stance. ¡°If we are to proceed with this seekership, we¡¯re going to need to work on the enforcement of its terms. Either that, or this whole thing¡¯s off the table.¡± That latter part was a bluff I knew was a huge risk. But it was a risk I was willing to take for the sake of principle. The owl went silent for a few moments, the dark call of the void once more compelling him to look directly upwards and towards the empty abyss that had just formed in the roof. A good chunk of a minute passed by before he once more craned his head back to me. A small, looming smile had formed on his beak, or rather, it looked as if there was some sort of a fascinated excitement forming behind those thoughtful eyes. ¡°Two acts of brazen defiance in a single interaction.¡± He spoke menacingly. ¡°And one born not out of a misplaced sense of personal pride or entitlement, but out of some adherence to a set of morals not seen since the wild times.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Let me be clear about one thing, Cadet Emma Booker. These weekly visits are not typical of what the library usually demands. However, they are necessary in this particular instance. As the nature of your existence means it is all but impossible to bind the Vunerian to you. Thus preventing us from conducting a simple binding ritual that would have otherwise been sufficient for the library. As in any other instance, the course of action would have been to bind the Vunerian¡¯s fate to you, and thus, sealing his fate upon the potential failure of your seekership. Alas, this is not possible, and I believe you know why that is.¡± ¡°My armor.¡± I stated plainly. ¡°Correct. Therefore, the weekly visits, and indeed these compulsion spells, are intended to substitute for what is effectively a handicap of your Seekership.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I took another deep breath, reaching for my forehead. ¡°The mana-less thing really throws a wrench into the works now doesn¡¯t it? Okay then, I can at least understand where you were coming from with this.¡± I tentatively, but diplomatically acknowledged. ¡°But surely we can come to some other arrangement. I¡¯m not about to pull a Mal¡¯tory. I¡¯m willing to talk trade if it comes to it.¡± ¡°There is nothing you can offer, Cadet Emma Booker. And not because of your inability to do so, but rather, the fact that anything you offer will ultimately mean nothing in this context. As what the library desires is assurance. A sort of collateral that is meant to act as an incentive, to ensure that this dependent party - this Vunerian, follows through with their end of the agreement. You offering anything means nothing to the Vunerian.¡± The owl glared harshly at Ilunor as he spoke. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Vunerian?¡± Ilunor didn¡¯t respond to this, merely shaking fitfully in place. ¡°Thus, without any spells of compulsion or spells of binding, the so-called¡­ collateral must be something of value to the Vunerian himself. Something which can compel him to return. Because as much as the library values your forthrightness, and has faith in your abilities, there is only so much that can be put on trust alone. Especially when you are but a single mortal. Moreover, I foresee a simple means to satisfy all parties.¡± The owl spoke as he quickly changed perches to that of my shoulder, now peering down at the discount kobold. ¡°As I believe there might just be a solution to our troubles, one that will most certainly not involve any invasive dealings of the mind, or any bindings of the flesh.¡± ¡°What-¡± ¡°May I have your name, Vunerian?¡± The librarian continued abruptly, leaning closer towards Ilunor as his pupils narrowed to tiny slits. ¡°Lord Ilunor Rularia.¡± He managed out meekly, barely audibly in fact. ¡°Lord Ilunor Rularia.¡± The owl repeated menacingly, placing great emphasis on each and every one of those syllables, enunciating it in a way that only a disciplinarian bent on retribution could. ¡°Are you of¡­ noble blood, Lord Ilunor Rularia?¡± The question came out of left field, taking me, as well as the rest of the gang by surprise. Ilunor himself could only stare blankly at the owl, his mouth hanging agape, and his whole body tensing like a deer in headlights. ¡°Of course!¡± He proclaimed sharply, marking the first time in this entire interaction that he actually raised his voice beyond a squeaky whisper. ¡°But¡­ I don¡¯t see why this would at all be relevant in this-¡± ¡°And you are Vunerian, correct?¡± The owl interrupted, deftly and effortlessly cutting Ilunor off mid-ramble. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°So a noble Vunerian you are.¡± The owl once more reiterated, hopping off of my shoulders and landing right in front of the terrified lord. ¡°And a noble Vunerian you appear.¡± With a single talon perched underneath where his ¡®chin¡¯ would be, the librarian peered closer and closer still towards the Vunerian. Before, finally, turning back to the rest of us. ¡°I require privacy with Lord Ilunor Rularia. For the proposition I have for him is one that he more than likely would wish to remain private.¡± The owl announced, before turning back towards the very-nervous Ilunor. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Lord Ilunor Rularia?¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Ilunor, strangely and contrary to my expectations, nodded slowly in agreement. ¡°EVI, are you sure you¡¯re not detecting any spikes in mana radiation?¡± ¡°Affirmative Cadet Emma Booker.¡± That rules out any magically-induced persuasion tactics. But still. I wasn¡¯t about to let any part of this go behind the scenes. All the library would need would be to sneak him out of my sights, and potentially bind him with a spell anyways. ¡°I¡¯d rather this meeting be conducted in the open, if possible.¡± ¡°Perhaps you could deploy a privacy screen.¡± Thacea suggested, prompting all eyes in the room to promptly land on her. ¡°I believe what Cadet Emma Booker is fearful of, is the potential for the undermining of the Vunerian¡¯s mind, Great Librarian. She wishes to ensure that the terms of her wishes are followed through. Namely: a lack of magical binding. Thus, if the issue in question is privacy, I believe a privacy screen should act as an acceptable compromise for all parties involved?¡± The librarian turned towards Ilunor with an expectant gaze. ¡°Is this acceptable to you, Lord Ilunor Rularia?¡± The diminutive lizard nodded, prompting Thacea¡¯s suggestions to be taken up by a burst of mana radiation, with only two words from the owl preceding the bubble of silence. ¡°Very well.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 225% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The next few minutes flew by surprisingly quickly. The interactions between the owl and Ilunor were seemingly tense, with Ilunor constantly pointing to a broach on his noble attire. The only other event worth noting was Ilunor¡¯s handoff of what seemed to be a crumpled up piece of paper, which unfurled, proved to be the letter I¡¯d returned to him earlier. Except this one seemed to be stamped with the same insignia as the one on the broach he wore. Aside from that, there were no shouts or screams, no beckoning of help, and no subsequent bursts of mana radiation. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 275% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Save for one near the very end of it. Yet unlike most ¡®higher level¡¯ spells I¡¯d experienced thus far, this one barely caused a disruption in mana radiation levels above that of the conjuring of the bubble of silence itself. I turned to Thacea and Thalmin, both of whom seemed to understand exactly what my concerns were. ¡°There was indeed a disruption in the mana-streams, Emma. However, the disruption I felt cannot account for anything that would be required of a spell of binding or compulsion.¡± Thacea acknowledged. ¡°Indeed it is.¡± The owl openly acknowledged, the privacy screen having come down just as Thacea finished addressing my concerns. ¡°You have nothing to fret over, Cadet Emma Booker. Lord Ilunor Rularia and I have come to an agreement, one which the library deems sufficient to ensure his compliance to these weekly visits.¡± Ilunor sheepishly nodded in reply, reaching a hand up to scratch both of his cheeks, which seemed to finally have some color returning to it. I immediately turned to address Ilunor, circumventing the owl entirely. ¡°Ilunor? What exactly did you-¡± ¡°Can we just get on with it, newrealmer? I haven¡¯t the energy nor the compulsion to spend any more time in this stuffy room than I need to.¡± He responded sharply. ¡°So, you¡¯re fine with this agreement?¡± I reiterated. ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to move forward if-¡± ¡°While it is not what I would have preferred ¡ª that being complete, outright, and instantaneous exoneration. It is certainly more agreeable than mind manipulation, newrealmer.¡± Ilunor stated plainly. ¡°So what-¡± ¡°I will disclose the nature of the agreement when I feel like it.¡± He stopped me before I could even get those words out. ¡°Right.¡± I spoke, turning to the owl once more. ¡°So do we have an agreement, Cadet Emma Booker? Your Seekership, with the aims to exonerate the Vunerian, will cover the gathering of the topics of what was lost. It is meant to serve two purposes. One: as a partial recuperation of the library¡¯s losses. And two: as a trial to assess your investigative abilities, to act as a benchmark to determine whether or not you are capable of pursuing the far larger quest of retrieving all of what was lost. What you will gain from this in the meanwhile is the suspension of the Vunerian¡¯s otherwise guaranteed fate. Which shall remain suspended until such a time where your Seekership comes to an end. Either by failure or success.¡± ¡°And the whole issue of the Vunerian¡¯s inability to be bound to me for my Seekership. That¡¯s been addressed by weekly visits, as well as this mystery agreement between you two to convince him to return to the library weekly right?¡± ¡°That is correct, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°And what about delays? What if we have something urgent to do that¡¯ll cause us to become otherwise incapable of returning to the library within that time frame? Like a field trip or¡­ a dragon quest or something?¡± The owl seemingly grinned at that question, but it wasn¡¯t clear if it was because of the questioning, skeptical nature of my stance, or the mention of the dragon quest. ¡°Deferrals may be requested as is necessary. The library is not unreasonable. Moreover, you can rest assured that even if the time limit is breached, that the agreement set forth will result in no bodily or mental harm to the Vunerian.¡± He turned to Ilunor once more with a satisfied gaze. ¡°Such is the nature of our unique arrangement.¡± Before turning back to me. ¡°A concession which has not been made since the wild times, so take that as you will.¡± With all of that cleared up, the ball was finally thrown back to my court as to how I wanted to proceed. The fact that we¡¯d come from an assured death sentence to what amounted to an extended parole contingent on data recovery was nothing short of a miracle, especially given the evidence we had to work with. Moreover, the fact that it wasn¡¯t just contingent on incriminating Mal¡¯tory meant we had more room to work with. As we now had two avenues of attack by which to approach this whole mess. So if the investigation on Mal¡¯tory¡¯s front came hit a brick wall, then we¡¯d at least have data recovery to save Ilunor from assured death. More than that though, it wasn¡¯t like this quest wasn¡¯t without its benefits to my overarching mission. Data gathering, intelligence sorting, and scouting was always one of the key goals of this mission. Whilst I already had a checklist and a guideline that was definitely useful, this whole questline effectively gave me a laundry list of self-admitted vital intelligence that the Nexus themselves want hidden away from me. In a weird convoluted way, I¡¯d just struck an uncorked datamine, as the topics I needed to find were presumably the very topics that I would¡¯ve needed to look for anyways when it came to vital Nexian intel. It was more work for me, of course. But that¡¯s what I signed up for. So I couldn¡¯t really complain. ¡°I accept.¡± I announced dryly. This prompted the room to once more shudder. Except this time, it wasn¡¯t so much an aggressive vibration, but one that was measured, consistent, and strangest of all, resonant in the noises it made. Several things began manifesting all at once with a flurry of mana radiation warnings. Starting off with the various quilts and tapestries in the open attic above unfurling and unrolling. Some of them doing so by some unseen ethereal force, some by the aid of foxes that jumped, leaped, and scurried from corner to corner. Soon enough, we found ourselves standing right in the middle of a room that had just been elevated from a quaint woodlands hotel lobby to a quaint woodlands hotel lobby with celebratory decorations. But in a good way. As what it lacked in flash or flair, it made up for in heart. With each of the painstakingly woven tapestries being hung at odd angles and to varying degrees of success, but done so with care and attention that felt honest and genuine, rather than the cold perfection that normally came with the library¡¯s otherwise constant changes in set dressing. Each of the unfurled tapestries depicted what seemed to be scenes of great battles and quests in what appeared to be individually tailored murals of various adventurers; their faces and names etched on the top right of the tapestries. What¡¯s more, what sounded like tavern music began playing in the background. As lutes, guitars, and other various string, percussion, and woodwind instruments echoed throughout the room. All played by a whole gaggle of foxes that coordinated in ways I couldn¡¯t have ever imagined was possible, each of them performing carefully coordinated movements, that made up for a lack of opposable thumbs and dexterous hands. It was in the midst of all of this that Buddy, who had been absent since the proposition of my seekership, finally returned with something in his maw. Something that he now offered to me with excited eyes. With a small urging from the owl I grabbed it gently, unfurling the rolled up quilted fabric to reveal a series of letters that formed my name, and what seemed to be an unfinished reproduction of my helmet at the top right hand corner. Stitched up in what I could only describe as a chibi version of it, tilted at an angle, with one eye seemingly larger than the other; giving it a goofy but endearing expression. ¡°I did what I could in the time I had, Emma!¡± Buddy yapped out excitedly, jumping up and down with a series of four clacks as each one of his clawed paws hit the ground in rapid succession. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ this is¡­¡± I could barely form the words as Buddy continued looking up at me with an expectant, excited gaze. ¡°This is incredible Buddy, I love it!¡± The fox went wild at my affirmations, giggling, cackling, laying on his back, before rolling from side to side from one support beam to another. Several more foxes soon arrived to take the fabric away, as they lifted it up high and above my head, and began hanging it from two of the taller support beams, giving the impression that this whole celebration was for me. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The owl announced pridefully, enunciating my name in a way that was almost the exact opposite of the way he¡¯d regarded Ilunor¡¯s a while ago. ¡°The library is humbled to ratify your entry into the ranks of the Seekership. Whilst this celebration may seem quaint compared to what the library has become, it has remained unchanged since the induction of the last seeker eons ago. The library sees no reason to change it, especially as you remind it of the wild times that have long since passed. With all of that being said¡­¡± The librarian paused, grabbing what seemed to be another book from the haphazardly constructed bookshelves with his own talons, before opening it up to a page with a series of names, similar to a hotel guest book. Buddy soon walked over with what appeared to be a quill and a bottle of ink, setting it on the counter, as I looked at the whole setup warily. The memories of the yearbook signing were still vivid in my memory. ¡°EVI, do you detect any mana from these artifacts?¡± ¡°Negative, Cadet Booker. All items seem to be inert.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re concerned about the potential for binding, don¡¯t be.¡± The owl announced suddenly. ¡°I would¡¯ve made that point clear to you if that were the case. This is merely tradition. One which you don¡¯t explicitly need to partake in if you wish. There were many seekers prior to this who likewise refused the signing, for either reasons of personal intent or reasons of faith.¡± I took a moment to consider this, before reaching for the quill. I dipped it tentatively in the ink, testing it, but feeling nothing. None of the excessive weight from the yearbook ceremony. No sign of mana radiation. Nothing at all. Turning towards Thacea, the princess responded with a confident nod, reassuring me that my sensors were detecting everything correctly. With a single breath, I took the plunge, signing my name all the while monitoring the EVI for any spikes of mana radiation, or even the mysterious +1 radiation for that matter. None came. In fact, several foxes came to physically dry out the ink by using spare sheets of paper lying around. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker, henceforth you shall be known to the library as a harbinger of truth. A fellow amongst equals, and a name amongst the forever-named. Your tales, your actions, your existence in this time, shall be preserved for all of eternity.¡± ¡°For the library is eternal.¡± The chorus of foxes spoke up once more in unison. ¡°And the memories of its members shall remain eternally.¡± The owl added pridefully. The whole room broke into a series of uproarious cheers, which given that it was composed entirely of foxes, turned out to be a cacophony of yips, yaps, and fox-like cackles that momentarily drowned out the music. It was after a few moments of this that a cart made of similarly rustic wood came out, with a series of snacks that screamed home-made. But just like before, my suit barred me from tasting any of it. ¡°Thank you, librarian.¡± I managed out awkwardly. ¡°But I do have one final question if that¡¯s alright?¡± ¡°Of course, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Now that the whole great scarring situation¡¯s been taken care of, what¡¯s going to happen to the Academy¡¯s investigation?¡± I asked in the midst of celebrations, with foxes yipping and yapping and beginning their assaults on the very food cart they¡¯d brought out. ¡°The library will inform the designated conduit, in this case the incumbent dean of the Transgracian Academy, regarding the lack of necessity for the activation of Article 25 of the treaty.¡± The owl responded with a tactful hoot. ¡°Right, and how exactly will you inform him of this?¡± ¡°Through the appropriate channels, with myself acting as the representative.¡± ¡°So, only a member of the library is allowed to act as a representative to relay this message, correct?¡± ¡°Why, of course!¡± Buddy piped in, popping his frosting-smeared head up from a cake on the food cart. ¡°Thanks, Buddy.¡± I acknowledged the fox with a nod, before shifting to the owl. ¡°Then I have a small proposition to make, librarian. Would it be possible for me to inform the Dean of this development?¡± The owl paused, taking a moment to consider this, before responding with a nod. ¡°How rather sudden for you to wish for more responsibilities to be burdened with. But very well¡­ As an act of good faith, I will designate this task to you, Seeker. Consider this another test of your seekership.¡± The owl, with a small burst of mana radiation, pulled out a letter about the same height as him from under his wing. ¡°Deliver this to the man, you need not say anything more, as the contents of this letter will address all that requires addressment.¡± ¡°You know¡­¡± I let out a chuckle. ¡°In my world, it¡¯s usually people who give birds messages to deliver.¡± I spoke, prompting both the librarian and Thacea to shoot me two simultaneous side-eyes in the process. ¡°Anyways! Yes, will do!¡± I attempted to swiftly move past that. ¡°With all that being said, it is getting pretty late, so¡­ I plan on heading out now if that¡¯s alright?¡± A series of despondent whines was the immediate reaction to that announcement. ¡°A swift end to a Seekership induction ceremony is not unheard of. In fact, the shortest one was scantily 5 seconds in length; interrupted by a raid of all things. So you may leave, and you may return again at any time. As always, the library appreciates your patronage and your contributions, Seeker.¡± With a nod from my end, and a bow of respect from Thacea, we made our leave. However, right before we left through that front door, Thalmin promptly turned towards me. ¡°So what¡¯s our plan of attack with this investigation?¡± ¡°I¡¯d prefer to at least recoup for a bit before we jump into our next quest. But honestly, our best bet would be Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office. That drone had issues getting there, sure, but after I head out to recover the drones that survived, and with a bit more planning, I¡¯m sure we can get into that sanctum of evil. That¡¯s our first lead. Our second is Apprentice Larial. Beyond that, there¡¯s always Vanavan we can squeeze for information. The dean, who I¡¯m planning to meet tomorrow anyways. And heck, a whole lotta places that I probably don¡¯t even know about yet. Suffice it to say, there¡¯s a lot out there to search for. So don¡¯t worry, I know we¡¯ll be able to pull it off.¡± Chapter 56: Go To Bed Our entry back into the world outside was marked by a raging, roaring WHOOOOSHHHHHHH! ¡°Agh!¡± [Alert: External noise exceeding preset thresholds. Adjusting and recalibrating live-audio feed for background audio track WATERFALL_01 to predetermined safe thresholds.] A noise that, despite only lasting for a fraction of a second, was sudden and abrupt enough to get my blood pumping. The transition between the silent library within and the noisiness of the world outside would never stop being jarring. It reminded me of those legacy MMOs with their sudden and abrupt shifts in ambient soundtracks between different maps and biomes. Although to their credit, it wasn¡¯t like that sort of thing wasn¡¯t often the case in the real world. As I could count more than a handful of places in Acela that fit that exact description; active soundproofing sometimes doing too good of a job that leaving your apartment felt like entering into a whole other world. Several mana radiation signatures would clue me in to the rest of the gang¡¯s reaction to the noise of the waterfall. Or rather, it would have been several, if it wasn¡¯t for only two having been reported. As Thalmin seemed to have foregone that cone of silence ritual, for the sake of humming an upbeat and chipper tune. ¡°Hm Hm Hmm Hm Hm Hmm Hm Hmmm Hm Hmmmm~¡± The lupinor hummed a gravelly, dulcet tune. One that the EVI had allowed to filter through to my ears untranslated and unadulterated, once more surprising me with the deepness of Thalmin¡¯s actual voice, especially coupled with his native, non-Nexian tongue. I couldn¡¯t help but to follow along the beat with my footsteps, which almost immediately garnered the attention of the lupinor, as he turned towards me with a sly grin and a series of purposeful stomps from his boot. It was then that I quickly realized what he was humming. A marching tune. We both matched pace almost immediately, with Thacea and Ilunor trailing behind, each with their own bewildered and bemused expressions. The knowing glance between two comrades-in-impromptu-marching was enough to clue me into the lupinor¡¯s mood. As I too felt the wave and rush of triumph and victory washing over me with each and every step, coinciding with the rise in cadence and rhythm of the lupinor¡¯s well-tempered humming. A proud smile had since formed across the lupinor¡¯s mug, one that I couldn¡¯t help but to reciprocate, even if it was all for naught. It was times like these where I was once again made painfully aware of the inch of composalite in front of my face. The encumbering-yet-life-saving piece of hardware handicapping these spontaneous moments of brotherly bonding, and hampering what would¡¯ve otherwise been an even more enjoyable walk back. It would¡¯ve definitely made the short little stint even more enjoyable, especially as it was cut short as we reached the other side of the bridge. But not by a waiting apprentice as I¡¯d come to expect. But instead, a lone gargoyle, animated explicitly for one very specific purpose. To simply let those from the other side of the bridge cross, without so much as a cross check or a word from the apprentice. The man in question having seemingly chosen the ground of all places to retire for the night. As he sat there out in the open courtyard, back against the smooth cobblestone and marble bricks, staring blankly at the cloudy skies above. This definitely put a dampener in our little marching tune, as it prompted us to attempt to skirt awkwardly around the man, if not for a sudden and abrupt interruption that took me by surprise. ¡°Oi, you lot, was that marching music I heard?¡± He asked from his supine position, not even putting the effort into getting up to face us. ¡°Erm¡­¡± I turned towards Thalmin, who promptly nodded and answered for me. ¡°Yes it was. What¡¯s it to you, sir?¡± He all but spoke out in a low rumble. The man chuckled in response. ¡°Nothing really. Just wanted to note how there may still well be some semblance of culture left in you lot; an appreciation for Nexian sensibilities where it counts. As it is clear that even from a bridge away, my glorious marching was enough to have had a subconscious effect on the manner by which you choose to travel.¡± Thalmin clearly didn¡¯t know how to make any of that. Which was fair, given how all of us seemed to remain baffled by the man¡¯s antics. A single, frustrated, glance of disdain was all the lupinor had to say to that. A set of eyes that quickly turned towards me, with a look that just screamed ¡®is this dude for real right now?¡¯ ¡°Alright, off you go then. And don¡¯t let me see you around here tomorrow. I got orders straight from the man-in-white himself. Says right here-¡± He lazily held up a piece of paper. ¡°-that no one¡¯s allowed to enter for a full day, or until such a time when the perpetrator behind this affront to our great and enigmatic partner is apprehended and dealt with.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to let out a sly snicker at that, although I made sure to quickly tone down the external speakers so that none of that made its way to the man. ¡°So I hope you¡¯ve had your fill of cocky owls and mischievous foxes for the night. For tomorrow, you aren¡¯t stepping a foot into the library. And mark my words, I¡¯ve trained my gargoyles well for any would-be rule-breakers.¡± He held a single finger up, yet still didn¡¯t bother getting up. ¡°So off with you!¡± He shooed us away, pointing straight towards the double doors that led back into the Academy. I couldn¡¯t help but to feel weirdly bad for the man as we finally made our way back inside, but only because I could empathize with the feeling of going a little bit mad from being assigned an all-nighter. I just hoped that there was some relief coming soon. Because he clearly needed one.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0230 Hours. Emma Booker The rest of the trip back to the dorms was made in silence. Mostly due to the fact that everyone else was already fast asleep by this point. Reentering our dorm felt¡­ oddly surreal; similar to how I reentered it immediately after the explosion. Except this time, there was an underlying feeling of optimism that colored my mood, rather than the cold, confused, and dazed one. It finally felt as if we were moving forward. In a direction that was dictated by us instead of any outside force. It finally felt like we were now holding the reins of this beast that was our complicated relationship with the Academy and its faculty, rather than responding to the punches as they came. Though we might not fully be out of the backfoot just yet, I could definitively say we were at least now properly, and surely, in the game as Ilunor would say. ¡°So, anyone hungry?¡± I finally broke the ice, prompting the faces of all three members of the group to quickly turn towards me with expressions as varied as their reactions. Thalmin looked at me with an excited pair of eyes, glimmering with as much hunger as the excitement welling within them. ¡°I sure am-¡± ¡°-certain that rest would be a preferable course of action at this point in time.¡± Thacea interjected sternly, with a strength of finality that up to this point I¡¯d only seen my aunt capable of mustering. ¡°I am certain that is what you were leading up to, Prince Thalmin?¡± ¡°Well...¡± Thalmin attempted to quickly segue into what was clearly his actual point. But after yet another stern bird-of-prey tier glare from Thacea, he reluctantly acquiesced and began shifting gears. ¡°I hate to say this Emma, but we might have to put off the celebratory feast for another day.¡± Thalmin acknowledged with an awkward rub of his back. ¡°Not that the consolation prize is cause for celebration, of course.¡± He quickly added, staring down at the blank-faced Vunerian. ¡°But a victory in your favor is a victory all the same. Even if that victory was won for those undeserving of it.¡± It was clear that the lupinor wanted to make his disdain for the Vunerian known despite it all. As if he didn¡¯t want his involvement with this rescue to be conflated with a renewed outlook on the discount kobold. Which was fair. Ilunor still had a ways to go to really prove himself in my eyes. But it wasn¡¯t like it was impossible, though by that same metric, I wasn¡¯t going to jump to any conclusions just yet. At the end of the day though, only time would tell. ¡°Thank you, newrealmer.¡± A voice suddenly pulled me out of that reverie, an unexpected one that was all too pertinent to the topic of my thoughts. ¡°You have my¡­¡± The small blue thing struggled to get the words out, stuttering for a few moments, before finally going through with it. ¡°... gratitude. In both a practical, and a metaphoric capacity.¡± The stutters and reluctance however quickly gave way the more he spoke, as the topic at hand transitioned from the more difficult subjects of humility and gratitude, towards issues that were easier for him to swallow. ¡°You have my word, that I will commit to whatever will be necessary to maintain the agreements set forth with the library.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re saying you¡¯re going to behave from now on.¡± I clarified, bringing the Vunerian¡¯s lofty words to ground. An incredulous gaze and an open-mawed expression immediately manifested on the Vunerian¡¯s small-snooted mug. But surprisingly, that was about it for the Vunerian¡¯s reprisals. There were no self-righteous rebuttals, no sassy remarks, not even a single contradictory statement made. Instead, for the first time since our frank discussions regarding his fate, he remained quiet; allowing me to continue despite clearly being miffed by my words. ¡°No more backroom dealings-¡± I paused, before realizing that that might''ve just been the Vunerian¡¯s strong suit, and those skills might otherwise prove vital in the reality of backroom politics that was the Nexus. It was better to keep that skill in reserve for our ends, rather than banning it outright. So I shifted my course. ¡°-without prior consultation with the rest of the peer group.¡± I clarified, leaving the door open for our own brand of operations if the need arose. ¡°No more spying for anyone else. No more plans or agreements with anyone outside the peer group that could endanger any of us. No working against the interests and well being of the peer group. And finally¡­ just learn to be more frank and upfront about things with us.¡± I managed out with an exhausted breath. ¡°I know that there are things that are better left unsaid, but let¡¯s just try to be as honest with each other as possible alright? For better or for worse, whether you like it or not, we¡¯re a team now. And that means our fates are inexorably tied together. You and me, more so than anyone else here. So let¡¯s try our best to try again, and this time, hopefully things will work out better for all of us.¡± At the end of it all, despite holding certain reservations in that opening statement, he eventually relented with a nod, before replying in a way I thought wasn¡¯t possible for him. ¡°Those terms are¡­ acceptable, newrealmer.¡± ¡°I have a name, you know.¡± I interjected. ¡°And while I might be getting used to you calling me that, I¡¯d prefer if you at least started trying using my name once in a while.¡± I attempted to bridge the gap, encouraging him forwards instead of outright demanding it. ¡°So you do.¡± He slowly nodded. ¡°Well then, allow me to rephrase. I find your terms agreeable and acceptable, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± He finally announced, before leaving just as abruptly for his room. ¡°And once again¡­ thank you.¡± He forced those words out as best he could, before slamming the door behind him. Maybe there was some hope left for him after all. The door slam was markedly less aggressive than before as well. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°I¡¯ll report back to you if he starts hooting, barking, or in any way starts shapeshifting into a creature of the library, Emma.¡± Thalmin shot back with a teasing cocksure grin, poking fun at the overarching worries we had with the library¡¯s dealings when it came to Ilunor, before marching his way back towards his room and closing the door shut behind him. This left just me and Thacea, as we both stared at one another, before retiring to our little corner of the world.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea¡¯s Room. Local Time: 0245 Hours. Emma Booker ¡°Well that was an eventful day.¡± I announced with a strange mixture of exhaustion and giddiness in my voice, still riding off the high at just having conducted what was in effect a successful run of diplomatic talks with what for all intents and purposes was an interdimensional cosmic being. That, or I¡¯d just successfully defused a disagreement between a kobold and an owl. Though the latter was definitely the far less impressive descriptor of everything that¡¯d just transpired. ¡°Indeed, Emma.¡± Thacea responded warily, having already gathered the piles upon piles of supplies she tended to use for her long baths. ¡°Though might I suggest you take a well deserved rest? It would be the most prudent course of action at this point in time.¡± She turned towards me, just before entering the bathroom proper. ¡°I¡¯ll make certain to leave the water on for your purposes.¡± She pointed at the long, ugly, obtrusive pipe that I¡¯d laid down the other day; connecting the magical bathroom of wonders to my tent¡¯s plumbing suite. The clashing aesthetics of a utilitarian pipe just laying there on granite and varnished hardwood wasn¡¯t lost on me. But it was the only solution I had right now for my plumbing solutions. ¡°Sure thing! And erm, thank you for the plumbing help again, princess.¡± I responded sheepishly, prompting the avinor to respond with a single exasperated sigh before disappearing into the bathroom proper. It was then that I decided to get to work on a few finishing touches to the tent¡¯s other assorted systems. But just as I was getting into the groove of things, almost as soon as I¡¯d finished offloading some of the suit mods into the tent, I heard the distinct clack of the bathroom door opening. It was only then that I realized, much to my surprise, that I hadn¡¯t just been toiling away for ten or twenty minutes¡­ But a full hour. The princess reentered the room once more wrapped up in a hundred pieces of fine silk, and as she made her way into the disaster zone that was my setup operations, she let out a long drawn out, frustrated, wailing chirp. One that was undeniably pretty from an acoustic standpoint, but one that carried with it the same vibe of frustration and disappointment that matched her current gaze. A gaze that I once thought was only possible and reserved for use by parents when scolding a particularly difficult brat. ¡°Emma.¡± ¡°Yes, Thacea?¡± ¡°I¡¯m assuming you have yet to have even entered your tent?¡± ¡°Well you see, I just thought since I was up anyways, that I could just-¡± ¡°Emma.¡± Thacea interjected once more, stopping me in my tracks as she began closing the gap, taking several urgent steps towards me with the very-audible clack clack clack of her bare talons. ¡°I worry for your sake.¡± She continued, before finally stopping just a few feet shy of me and the tent. ¡°This pace is unsustainable, this pattern of living untenable, and this lifestyle you lead¡­ unnatural; fraught with the risk of exhaustive consumption. I understand well the urge to move with the rhythms of the world. I comprehend that inherent drive to respond, to react, to answer the call of duty and the insatiable demands of a system that is by its very nature unconducive to the individual and the organic. I understand this viscerally, Emma, perhaps more so than you.¡± Thacea¡¯s voice began dipping into a certain warmth of earnestness that I¡¯d only heard bits and pieces of from the previous nights. ¡°Which is why I must ask you to stop.¡± She urged with an overture of emotive resonance only a bird could muster, and one that was otherwise absent from her conversations outside of the confines of the room. ¡°It is¡­ deceptively easy to fall into the roles we play. To fall prey to them, and become ensnared by their ceaseless demands. I know this, for the role of royal duty demands an adherence to a facade as rigid and unforgiving as the metal and glass of your armor.¡± She pointed to my armor, her hand just barely grazing it. ¡°So I can imagine it is far, far easier for you to be completely subsumed by your role, being not just metaphorically consumed by its demands, but literally.¡± ¡°So whilst your armor exudes the raw strength and uncompromising zeal of the realm you hail from, underneath it, is still a being of flesh and blood. And whilst most may simply see the neutral, unflinching, stoic face of your knightly helm, I instead see the woman underneath it.¡± Thacea continued, her eyes never once breaking contact a mere foot from my own. ¡°So please, answer the call of the flesh beneath the metal, and rest.¡± She reiterated. I took a moment to consider everything, as throughout it all I genuinely felt as if she was peering once more straight through the inch or so of helmet and straight onto the fleshbag underneath. It was¡­ a strange feeling, especially after interacting with so many who saw only the armor and not the person inside. I couldn¡¯t come up with a response that felt fitting to the effort Thacea was putting in. That was until, a sudden and abrupt thought popped into existence, and some exhaustion-addled part of my brain decided to just run with it. ¡°Is that an order, your grace?¡± Thacea almost immediately pulled back with wide eyes and an abashed look on her face. ¡°I¡­ Have I been too insistent in my phrasing and my tone of voice-¡± ¡°No, no. That. That was a joke, princess.¡± I interrupted before things could go any further. ¡°I just couldn¡¯t come up with a proper response to¡­ all of that.¡± I admitted with a dumb awkward chuckle, reaching up an arm to awkwardly rub the back of my helm. ¡°But in all seriousness, thank you, Thacea. You made very valid points and I concede. I guess I¡¯ll continue all of this-¡± I pointed at the mess around the tent. ¡°-in the morning. Or rather, the afternoon or something. I do have a Dean to intercept before we finally have some proper free time.¡± The princess nodded warily in response, having since regained her composure, her raised fluffy feathers having since shrunken back down. ¡°Then I bid you a good night, Emma.¡± ¡°Good night, Thacea.¡± With that, I finally reentered my tent, standing in the mana desaturation chamber for the typical ten to twenty minutes before stepping into the main chamber proper, before promptly hopping out of the back of the suit and straight into the shower.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 0700 Hours. Emma Booker I emerged from the cocoon that was my sleeping bag and straight into the armor. From there, I exited to find the room bathed in a dazzling beam of sunlight that felt ever so slightly brighter than before, probably due to the elated high I was still feeling. Regardless of what it was, I emerged through the door of my bedroom to find the rest of the gang having already dressed and prepped for the day; the whole group seemingly in the middle of a conversation just before I turned the corner. ¡°The uniforms are nothing short of ghastly in their commoner-like austerity. I shall remain decorated in my fineries until such a time where it can no longer be tolerated. Namely: until the visitation to Elaseer.¡± I could hear the Vunerian settling back into the one emotion he always embodied best. Annoyance. ¡°It¡¯s not like it can do any more damage to an already damaged mannequin.¡± Thalmin muttered out annoyingly, which prompted a hiss from the discount kobold. He would¡¯ve gone into a whole tangent too if I hadn¡¯t rounded the corner in time, prompting the whole group to hail me to varying degrees of tiredness. ¡°A bright morning to you, Emma.¡± Thalmin spoke up first. ¡°Bright skies await, Emma.¡± Followed closely by Thacea. ¡°Hello, newrealmer.¡± And of course, Ilunor, who was at least trying to get into the program. ¡°Good morning everyone.¡± I replied, before making the effort to crane my head around, before continuing. ¡°So¡­ have we received any mystery letters?¡± ¡°Not that I¡¯m aware of, no.¡± Thalmin responded. ¡°Any mysterious knocks on the door?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Any break-ins or thefts of property?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°And no unannounced or unplanned summons?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± I spoke, letting out a contented sigh in the process. ¡°Then that means we just have one more thing on the agenda to take care of.¡± ¡°Delivering the letter to the dean?¡± Thalmin perked up. ¡°Exactly. After which¡­ well¡­ wow¡­ we don¡¯t actually have anything to do after that now, do we?¡± ¡°I mean, you still have your quests to think about. Namely: the crystal dragon.¡± Thalmin urged. ¡°And your promises to the library¡­¡± Ilunor piped up meekly, practically squeaking out those words. ¡°But of course, all of that can wait.¡± Thacea quickly butted in. ¡°We are on the final day of our grace period. Tomorrow, classes shall commence. It would be prudent to take the rest of the day off to rest and recuperate. Moreover, it would be prudent to plan our next course of action in detail if possible.¡± The avinor all but announced in a series of authoritative chirps, before turning towards me. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you agree, Emma?¡± I nodded firmly. ¡°Sounds like a plan, princess.¡± ¡°With that being said then-¡± Thalmin perked up once more. ¡°-considering we truly do not have much in the way of immediate affairs to resolve¡­ I believe it would be as good of a time as any to sit down to discuss a few points of contention that have been left unresolved with regards to Earthrealm.¡± The prince not-so-subtly alluded to the interrupted conversation a few nights prior. ¡°I would be interested to learn more about this fantastical mana-less plane of existence, provided you are willing to entertain my curiosities, Emma.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to grin widely at that underneath my helmet, realizing that after everything that had happened thus far, I hadn¡¯t yet properly sat down to actually divulge more than a few passing points relevant to whatever it was the adventure called for at the time. ¡°Sure.¡± I answered simply. ¡°That can be arranged.¡± So with a few more nods from the group, and a bit of pre-game planning involving our angle of attack when it came to approaching the dean, we finally made our move; leaving the safety of the dorms behind us as we marched straight back into the dining hall. We planned to strike, as soon as the man left his seat.
The Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 0730 Hours. Emma Booker I once more had to brave through the torture that was breakfast as Thacea began reminding me of a few points I should raise when dealing with the dean. The man was a clear cut opponent on the surface¡­ but given that we had to be dealing with him for the rest of the year, if not the entirety of our five years here, there had to be some attempt at dealing with him without burning all bridges. Moreover, Thacea had more or less suggested paths I could take to address what were otherwise irreparable bridges that had already been tarred and burnt. Namely, in the form of spinning what would have otherwise been a simple ¡®in your face¡¯ moment, into a sort of a ¡®social debt¡¯ move. ¡°For as it stands right now, Emma-¡± Thacea continued, her piercing eyes sharp in their calculating approach. ¡°-you hold a card with which to dictate the course of this encounter.¡± ¡°We effectively did his dirty work for him. Or rather, fixed an issue that would¡¯ve been a headache for him to deal with.¡± I surmised. ¡°Correct. Which, even if it wasn¡¯t ever explicitly called for by the indebted party, is still a social debt all the same.¡± ¡°The issue is whether or not he¡¯ll honor it or consider it anything at all.¡± Thalmin interjected with a growl. ¡°That is the risk here, yes. But at the end of the day this all depends on how Emma approaches this conversation. It is easy to merely prance into the man¡¯s office, to flaunt the letter and to deliver the contents plainly and simply. Yet the only net gain we would accrue would be the pride and satisfaction in the act. Everything else may as well be a net negative balance from the ire we may incur from the man.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll find a way to spin it.¡± I managed out with a confident grin. ¡°What¡¯s more, I¡¯m certain I can still get a bit of satisfaction from the whole interaction too, so don¡¯t discount point one just yet.¡± I chuckled. ¡°With all that being said, do be sparing with the details regarding our agreement, Emma.¡± Thacea warned. ¡°Whilst we know for certain that it was Mal¡¯tory who was the party responsible for the burning, we do not know just how many more within the faculty may be involved. So in order to best ensure we have our options open for our investigation, you should exercise liberal use of discretion, as well as misdirection if appropriate.¡± ¡°Heh, you could play dumb and say that you agreed to some dumb agreement with the library if you wanted to.¡± Thalmin added. ¡°I think it¡¯s best if we don¡¯t offer anything concrete.¡± Ilunor finally chimed in. ¡°The tainted-¡± Ilunor paused, as I peered down on him menacingly as he uttered that word. ¡°Avinor princess-¡± He quickly corrected himself somewhat. ¡°-has a point, Emma. It is best to be sparing, with misdirection only given if it truly comes to it. The liberal application of misdirection could very well lead to the same result as the overeager sharing of the truth. Namely: in the other party moving in to match those supposed developments, rather than in them remaining placated with the partial truth.¡± I nodded at all the advice, and was about ready to put my two cents into the pot, before several loud sonorous claps were heard throughout the hall. Once again, announced by the still-injured looking apprentice. Who at this point seemed to only be bandaged with no splints or accessory aids in her healing process remaining. ¡°To all students: this morning breakfast is officially dismissed. In regards to yesterday¡¯s announcement, letters of summons will be dispatched to each and every room. Students with names on this list must proceed to the designated meeting grounds written within your summons. That is all.¡± Larial concluded, sitting back down on her chair¡­ Mal¡¯tory¡¯s chair, as the rest of the professors stood up and moved out. The short line of professors made their way out in the same fashion Larial did a few days before, through a side door immediately left of our table. This gave me ample opportunity to get up, and once more confront them in the fashion Thacea preferred - discreetly and outside. The cluster of about twenty or so professors eyed me down with suspicion, as I approached the white-robed dean himself. ¡°Professor, I-¡± ¡°What is it, girl?¡± One of the professors interrupted abruptly, turning to me with an incredulous set of beady black eyes, reminding me of an angrier, older, meaner version of Buddy. His frustration would¡¯ve been even more pronounced if he had a tail to express it with. ¡°EVI? Who¡¯s this guy again?¡± I spoke silently into my helmet. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A12 PROFESSOR ARTICORD - NEXUS AND ADJACENT REALM HISTORY AND POLITICS I ignored the man, opting instead to focus squarely on the Dean. ¡°I wish for an audience with you, Professor. I have an urgent matter which must be addressed.¡± I spoke plainly, politely, and above all else, calmly. ¡°Mreow? An audience? With the Dean?¡± Chiska announced with a perplexed expression. Articord let out an indignant huff, sidestepping Chiska as he approached me menacingly. ¡°Perhaps I have been too presumptuous in assuming you had two eyes to see with, and two ears to hear out of. Or perhaps the armor you wear has dulled your senses significantly, but we do not have the time nor the inclination to entertain your concerns, not especially at this junction in time.¡± ¡°I presume the matter of the library has the faculty preoccupied, Professor?¡± The man paused, his eyes narrowing towards my lenses. ¡°Don¡¯t play coy with me, girl. Now out with-¡± I reached for the letter folded within one of my mana-resistant pouches, prompting the man to all but halt in his tracks. Chiska, Vanavan, and Belnor who were all in my immediate line of sight couldn¡¯t help but to let out gasps in varying degrees of intensity; as the other professors who had been otherwise uninvested in the whole back and forth finally turned their heads towards me. The Dean¡¯s expression at this point had likewise shifted, as he turned to move towards me, the other professors giving him a wide berth. ¡°...Come.¡± Was all he spoke, signaling me to follow with a lazy hand. ¡°You¡¯ve earned yourself an audience, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm.¡± Chapter 57: From The Library With Love The walk to the Dean¡¯s office was one marked by silence. Not a word escaped either of our mouths as we made the long drawn-out trek through the mind-bending labyrinth that was the faculty tower. Or at least, that¡¯s what it looked like on the surface. For despite the outward silence, a series of rapid fire back and forths between me and the EVI was currently taking place underneath my helmet. As we began our final few preparations for the more practical aspect of this operation. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Prepare to deploy the infildrone when I say so. Set it to long-term static recon mode, activate advanced power saving profiles, make sure we get as much out of it as we can. We now have a shot at bugging the office of the man-in-charge himself, so let¡¯s make the most of it.¡± ¡°Affirmative Cadet Booker. Please set and clarify the minimum tolerable margin of error for the potential of mission-endangerment.¡± ¡°MEM-Es set at lowest possible parameters. I don¡¯t want to take any chances. This idea is already risky as it is. I want the thing to self-destruct if it even thinks it¡¯s being looked at the wrong way.¡± ¡°Alert: Discrepancy detected. Advanced Power Saving profile will result in several advanced stealth features being disabled. Low MEM-E sensitivity settings will not have an effect on the frequency on the use of active-camouflage systems as a result.¡± ¡°Acknowledged, EVI. The intention isn¡¯t to dictate the frequency of advanced stealth feature usage, but rather, the low tolerance I have for it being discovered. Besides, I know we can¡¯t use those advanced stealth features here. It¡¯s a long term mission without any chance of a recharge, so we have to be conservative when it comes to power consumption.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. MEM-Es set. Mission parameters set.¡± Good. ¡°Error: Unable to execute and confirm.¡± What now? ¡°Reason: RTB Pathfinding not found. Source: Previous mission failure due to cached pathfinding resources¡¯ incompatibility with anomalous terrain.¡± ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you worry about that EVI. I have a plan to get around our little handicap there¡­ Set the drone to immediately RTB once either its storage is full, or its battery is depleted by half, and set the Dean himself as the pathfinding agent. The idea¡¯s simple. He¡¯ll be the drone¡¯s guide to pathfinding its way out of the faculty tower.¡± I commanded with a mischievous cackle. ¡°Acknowledged. Parameter conflict resolved. Ready to deploy on your command, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± I acknowledged the EVI with an affirmative blink, before shifting towards another, more light hearted topic. One that eventually came to mind the further we marched into the textureless and unrendered hallways of the faculty tower. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°If a situation ever comes up where we have to provide a gift to the Academy, just remind me to hand them the cumulative works of M.C. Escher, Salvador Dali, E.D. Park, and Superl337archidev.¡± ¡°Purpose of this reminder, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°I think that¡¯s abundantly clear, EVI.¡± I let out a massive sigh, using my eyes to quietly and discreetly gesture at the non-euclidean surrealist nightmare that was the faculty¡¯s home turf. A series of expanding but shrinking, winding but straightening, orderly but chaotic, perspective-bending paths that led from corridor to corridor in an unending loop of insanity. An amalgamation of magical tricks that spat in the face of physics, and played loose with the rules of mathematics. A pile of data that the compilers back at home were going to have a field day with once I got home. No doubt relegated to the ¡®junk data¡¯ drawer until they can verify the validity of the nonsense I¡¯d be providing them with. ¡°Affirmative, Cadet Booker. Context-dependant reminder set.¡± ¡°Thanks EVI, but just for the record, that was a joke. Also, sorry about messing with your sensors for the literal upteenth time this week.¡± I acknowledged with a dry chuckle, prompting the expected silence from the EVI, given that it didn¡¯t come pre-loaded with banter-mode pre-installed like your typical household bot or Augmented Reality assistant. That was, until I heard a beep of acknowledgement, a high-pitched tone that normally only came up in response to minor requests or status updates. A brief pang of worry hit me, but not for the obvious concern of a potential over-improvement of the EVI¡¯s parameters. Rather, I was more worried about the EVI¡¯s stability given the wealth of nonsensical contradictory data it¡¯d been inundated with so far in such a short period of time, courtesy of the Academy and the Library¡¯s reality-bending architecture. Those concerns were short-lived however, as unlike the case when it came to the twenty-minute trek to get to Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office, the trek to the Dean¡¯s office barely took ten. But the differences didn¡¯t end there. In fact, that was only the start of where things significantly diverged from my experiences with Mal¡¯tory. Starting right off the bat with the entrance into the room itself. In the place of the dark and dreary double doors of ashen gray and jet-black wood, were a set of pure-white oaken doors, gilded with gold and adorned with a series of crystals that glowed tastefully in their recessed fixtures. Opening those doors revealed a room that was completely antithetical to the black-robed professor¡¯s design philosophy. But for vastly different reasons. Their intended effect was still obvious: to instill a sense of shock, awe, and an overwhelming sense of impersonality to those that crossed the threshold into their spaces. It was an extension of what I was quickly understanding to be the Academy¡¯s more ¡®subtle¡¯ power plays; a means of demonstrating strength, power, and sophistication through the very architecture that surrounds those which inhabit their spaces. However, where Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office utilized a mixture of darker colors, an overabundance of ornate furniture, and an eclectic collection of morbid and macabre artifacts that hinted at an outwardly sinister intent, the dean¡¯s office instead projected an overwhelming sense of cold hostility. It was sterile and controlled, despite being as, if not more ornately decorated in engravings, carvings, flourishes and statues that despite being masterfully crafted and meticulously detailed, all felt lifeless and meaningless. There was no story being told in the masterfully crafted works of art here. There was no artistic intent or authorial meaning behind any of the grand works. There was nothing being conveyed, and nothing that could be read, save for the overwhelming sense of conformity in the sameness of the patterns and stylistic choices used in all of these works. Beyond that, there was nothing. Nothing but grandeur for grandeur¡¯s sakes. Yet the starkest difference here from Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office wasn¡¯t in the theming, nor was it the polar difference in color palette. It was the fact that there were actually people here. In fact, the EVI counted at least twenty-seven. As what we entered wasn¡¯t quite exactly a personal office, as much as it was a vast open hall with windows lining either side of it. Sunlight bathing the varnished desks and white-wood shelves lining a central path that led towards another set of doors. Most of the desks were empty, but those that were staffed were staffed by elves, many of which were busy with one desk-bound task or another. Some meticulously scrawled on piles upon piles of documents, some combing through books and ledgers, whilst many more walked and dashed about from shelf to shelf, shuffling stacks of paper from one place to another. Yet the state of the room never once reflected this frenzied pace of work. There were no stray pieces of paper sitting around, every stack and pile of documents were all impossibly neat and geometrically aligned, every piece of stationery and every writing implement was uniformly arranged no matter the desk, table, or person using them. Everything just looked too perfectly neat. This fact was tested when one of the apprentice-cloaked elves found themselves bumping into me, letting out a solid oomf of pain before falling flat at my feet. And whilst he¡¯d crumpled down into a sorry heap, that stack of perfectly aligned papers never once shifted, instead landing neatly, almost cartoonishly so right next to him. ¡°Ah-ah? S-sorry. I¡­¡± The elf stammered out, a weird foggy haze in his eyes lifted to reveal two brilliant sapphire eyes. He had the eyes of someone who had just recently woken up from a nap. ¡°I apologize on behalf of my new appointees, Cadet Emma Booker. It seems as if quite a few of them are so preoccupied in their thoughts, that they default to navigating-by-stream, supplementing if not replacing their sight by temporarily relying exclusively on manastreams to navigate. This is, as you may imagine, quite non-conducive to navigating around what is in effect a large, lumbering, mass of mana-less metal; more akin to a non-living construct and thus inevitably absent from the absent-minded ministrations of those relying purely on mana-field sight.¡± The man managed out in an impressive display of polite belligerence. I couldn¡¯t help but to be impressed, offended, and then impressed again at the dean¡¯s ability to shift the direction of his words on a dime. From being genuinely apologetic, to disciplinary, to being passive-aggressive in his slights towards me as a mana-less being, and then finally back to disciplinary again. He eventually ended that brief aside by concentrating his polite ire on the elf who¡¯d begun picking himself up, too preoccupied in wiping the sleep from his eyes despite the fact he hadn¡¯t been sleeping. The man was able to, in less than ten seconds, attack everyone around him in that polite patronizing way only a wizened wizard could. I chose to respond with silence. To which he responded with a dismissive wave of his hand, signaling me to continue following him. I did so wordlessly, but not before a revelation suddenly struck me, prompting me to formulate a quick but insurmountably beneficial deviation to the spy-drone operations. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Analyze the sunlight. Can the drone¡¯s solar arrays make use of it?¡± ¡°Affirmative. Wavelengths compatible with INFIL-DRONE01¡¯s solar-recharging systems.¡± ¡°Alrighty then.¡± I acknowledged with a toothy grin. ¡°Reset parameters for the drone, only partially enable advanced power saving features. Set active-camo to activate contingent on possible inference of line-of-sight. We now have a source of power to keep the active camo engaged if we need to.¡± I chuckled deviously underneath the helmet. ¡°Affirmative, Cadet Booker. Updating mission profile and operational parameters.¡± We eventually arrived at a final set of double doors, leading to an office that prompted me to do a double-take using my side and rear mounted cameras. The room was practically identical to the last. With every dimension, every engraving, every carving and statue virtually an exact carbon copy, down to the square inch of their placement. Save for only two key differences. First, was the placement of a large desk at the very end of the room, and a large floor to ceiling window that overlooked the lake and the town below. Which more or less confirmed my earlier suspicions and outright guaranteed the success of the gambit I¡¯d made in the previous office. As there was now a limitless source of sunlight, offering the drone an unlimited power source for its intended mission. ¡°EVI, do the thing.¡± ¡°Suggestion, Cadet Booker. I advise to deploy the drone at the most opportune time wherein the subject in question is most inattentive to maximize the successes of drone deployment. As mission commander, do you approve of this proposal?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to raise yet another brow at the EVI¡¯s adaptability and resourcefulness, as I blinked once in response, all but affirming that proposal. ¡°Suggestion noted, amendments approved. Deploy the drone when you think it¡¯s most appropriate, EVI. Just make sure it¡¯s when he¡¯s really not paying attention.¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Affirmative Cadet Booker.¡± The second key difference was the replacement of all of the desks from the previous room by statues. Hundreds of them in fact. All of them showing absolutely no wear or aging on their marble exteriors. All of them flanking the main pathway that led to the Dean¡¯s desk. All of them being elves, wearing almost exactly the same robes as the Dean himself. ¡°Two-thousand five-hundred and twenty seven.¡± The dean uttered abruptly, breaking the deafening and oppressive silence of the room with a voice that reverberated throughout the space, generating an ominous echo that continued on high above. This prompted me to crane my head upwards, towards an enormous ceiling that would fit in right at home with the hyper-revivalist Cathedrals over in the EF. The empty cavernous space was lit up by thousands of candles that hovered ominously overhead, dripping and generating what could easily be classified as a drizzle of hot molten wax, if not for the droplets fizzling into nothing before it even reached ten feet of our heads. ¡°That is the number of individuals who have elected to answer the call of academic enlightenment, taking on the mantle of pedagogue, and eschewing their worldly lives for the pursuit and endowment of knowledge.¡± He narrated as he walked by the statues, all but answering the question of exactly who they were, yet opening up another question just as quickly as that statement was made. ¡°I count only five-hundred and twenty-seven.¡± I interjected questioningly, gesturing at the statues that lined our path. This¡­ seemed to elicit something in the Dean, as the man paused, before turning towards me just as he¡¯d reached his desk. ¡°I assume you mean you estimated.¡± He corrected a-matter-of-factly, prompting me to shake my head firmly in response. ¡°No sir, I counted each and every one of them.¡± I reaffirmed. The man took a moment to ponder that, not once flinching or betraying what I assumed would¡¯ve otherwise been a baffled reaction. ¡°Whether by counting or by estimation, you are correct in your initial observations, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The man acknowledged. ¡°But what you see is only part of the greater whole. Look up.¡± He pointed up towards the ceiling. ¡°Now count the number of candles hanging above.¡± ¡°Two-thousand.¡± I responded flatly, the EVI having noted the number in barely a millisecond, not that I needed it given it was now obvious where the Dean was going with this. ¡°Correct.¡± The man acknowledged. ¡°The former is the number of those who have, in some way shape or form, demonstrated outstanding commitment to their duties as a Dean of this great and storied Academy. The latter¡­ is the number of those who merely inhabited the role, embodying mediocrity, despite the otherwise great potential afforded to them.¡± He paused, taking the time to walk up and around the desk that sat a few steps above the rest of the room on an elevated pedestal. ¡°I assume you intend on being grouped into the former, and not the latter?¡± I quickly surmised, cutting off the man¡¯s Argyle-villain spiel before it could even begin. ¡°My personal intent is not of your concern, Cadet Emma Booker. I merely wished to highlight and explain that which your young and curious mind would have more than likely had questions for, given the eclectic nature of the artifacts present within this room. I am, afterall, an endower of knowledge. It would be unbecoming of me to not preempt the questions my pupils may carry.¡± He quickly corrected, the man¡¯s tone of voice sitting somewhere between the faux-fatherly warmth that he¡¯d used in public up to this point, and a more serious, cutthroat sharpness of authority. ¡°Now, with matters of properdom and officialdom over and dealt with, I believe you had a matter you wished to address?¡± The man gestured towards my belt, and the contents that lie within, all but giving me the floor to speak without interruption. A completely different track and narrative compared to that of the black robe professor. ¡°Yes. I did, Professor.¡± I began politely, unsealing my pouch with a satisfying click, followed up by a pneumatic-like hiss. But instead of immediately reaching in, and instead of simply jumping straight to the point, I began my Nexian-grade social gambit. ¡°Professor¡­ I¡¯d also like to take this opportunity to address what may have been considered a social faux pas during yesterday¡¯s emergency assembly.¡± I began, prompting barely any response from the man¡¯s aged and wrinkled face, save for a small narrowing of his eyes. ¡°You mean to say, you would like to apologize for the repercussions incurred by such a brazen and unwarranted action?¡± The Dean clarified, in the same manner an overzealous parent would. ¡°I find verbal apologies as weightless and fleeting as the air that carries them, Professor.¡± I stated a-matter-of-factly, eliciting no further reactions from the man as he allowed me to continue. ¡°My people have a saying. An ancient adage that states that actions speak louder than words. I intend on following through with the principles of my people, Professor. And it is with those principles that I present to you this-¡± I paused, pulling out the neatly folded letter that had magically un-creased itself the moment I pulled it out of my mana-sealed pouch. ¡°-the palpable results of the actions I have taken, which just so happens to address a matter of great significance to the Academy.¡± I took a few steps forward, placing the letter gently on the desk. The man took a few moments to regard the letter before him. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 380% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 700% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Several mana radiation signatures signaled the man¡¯s attempts at ascertaining the authenticity of the document before him. Each and every one prompting the man¡¯s brows to furrow further and further, as if trying to dispute the reality of the situation that stood before him, all without breaking character and devolving into ramblings of outright denial. A half a minute and about five or so mana radiation signatures later, he seemed confident enough to open the letter. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS But as expected, the man refused to use his hands, instead relying on good old magic to do the job for him. Within the sealed envelope was a small parchment just under a quarter of the size of a standard sheet of UN-ISO-A4 paper. One that, to my surprise, looked completely blank. This was more than likely the result of some more magical shenanigans that I couldn¡¯t overcome just yet, as the Dean demonstrated that there was in fact something written on there, if his darting eyes were of any indication. Another minute passed with the man reviewing the document in utter silence, eventually electing to hold it in his wrinkled hands, instead of levitating it inches away from his bespectacled face. ¡°I see.¡± Was all he could say in response to the letter¡¯s contents. Spoken in a way that didn¡¯t once betray the turmoil of emotions that I was sure was now churning within his mind. The less a talkative person has to say, the more it speaks to their defeat. I recalled a small adage from Aunty Ran popping up from the recesses of my mind. ¡°Well then.¡± He continued, finally placing the letter down, and then promptly- ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS -sending it straight to the shadow realm. ¡°Do you understand what you have brought to me today, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The man took a sharp turn towards the dark and questioning, his eyes now piercing my lenses in the same way he did the day before during the stunt I pulled at the emergency assembly. ¡°I do, Professor.¡± I replied simply. ¡°And you understand the implications that bringing this letter to me entails?¡± He continued in that darker, severe tone of voice. ¡°Yes, Professor. In fact, it was why I wished to address you post-haste, as this letter more or less negates the necessity for this morning¡¯s investigation. I thought it would be prudent to inform you of that, such that no further effort need be taken to address the library situation as it were.¡± I concluded, channeling my inner Thacea, trying my best to put on the loftiest of Nexian phrasings in order to best play the game on my terms. The man remained completely still throughout this, his poker face not once shifting as he placed both hands on the desk before him, locking them together. ¡°And pray-tell, how was it that you managed to come across this letter, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t just come across it, sir.¡± I answered without pause. ¡°I was assigned its delivery to you.¡± ¡°By whom?¡± ¡°The librarian himself, Professor.¡± The man¡¯s hands tightened before me, wringing harder, as he kept up that calm expression in spite of everything. I could feel him locking eyes with me, or rather, as he tried to read the expressionless gaze of the red and unfeeling lenses. There were many paths the man could now take. He could pull a Mal¡¯tory, going straight into denial and pushing this matter further. He could simply acquiesce and take the higher road. Or, he could simply ignore everything, and simply proceed with the morning¡¯s investigation. What he did instead however, was something that I should¡¯ve expected. ¡°And should this matter be brought to the attention of the librarian himself, you are certain that he would verify your assertions?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I replied simply and with a firm nod, allowing that statement to hang in the air. ¡°Though I wouldn¡¯t want to waste your time like that, Professor.¡± I quickly added, giving the man an off-ramp, and by extension, an olive branch. ¡°So it would seem, and indeed, I am appreciative of your respect for both my time and the efforts of my faculty and staff.¡± The man paused, before moving on to what felt like a completely unexpected trajectory. ¡°You have a fire and passion that I have yet to see in many a new realmer, Cadet Emma Booker. With that being said, the most brilliant of flames are more often than not the most at risk of burning out first.¡± ¡°I promise you, professor, that compared to the rest of my people¡­ my flame can best be compared to an ember.¡± ¡°Then let us hope that this ember does not find the wrong kindling to ignite.¡± The man continued in vague overtures of metaphorical threats. ¡°For the flames you may next incur, may not be as easily quenched. For you see Emma Booker, your candidacy belies a far greater degree of scrutiny than that of the Academic kind. Your character, your actions, your interactions will all be taken into account and scrutinized by powers not just limited to the walls of this Academy, nor the walls of the Library-¡± The man made an effort to highlight that latter bit in particular, as if trying to urge or dissuade me from my dealings with the library. ¡°-but by those that you may never even have the chance to meet.¡± ¡°What exactly are you implying here, Professor?¡± ¡°That more cloaks exist to be singed by your embers than my own, Emma Booker.¡± He replied uncharacteristically simply, whilst maintaining that dour and threatening gaze all throughout. ¡°And to tread wisely as a result.¡± ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± ¡°Because it is in my best interests to disclose to you the full extent and expectations that a candidacy entails. More specifically, your candidacy, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The man spoke cryptically. The sudden turn and direction was unexpected, but at the same time, more or less matched the particularities of dealing with the man. ¡°With all that being said, do you have anything else to add, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°No.¡± I announced simply. ¡°The letter, and my intent behind delivering it, was all I needed your audience for, sir.¡± The man once more nodded, taking a moment to regard the envelope that still remained on the table, before glancing back at me. ¡°With that being said-¡± The man started up again, his tone now returning to the former, more amicable one. ¡°-I sincerely hope that you redirect this fire and passion, this unbridled energy towards your studies and curricular-based activities. I need not remind you what this candidacy represents, and I need not remind you the precipitating factors and propagating catalysts behind the very events which you have so graciously brought to a close.¡± The man added vaguely, clearly hinting at the events of the past five days. Though how much he knew and where exactly he stood in those events was still very much up for debate. ¡°I will watch your progress with great interest, Cadet Emma Booker. However, I wish to see that this progress is made linearly, and preferably not laterally.¡± ¡°Of course, Professor.¡± I acknowledged with yet another nod. ¡°But I wish to make something else very clear¡­¡± I began, rummaging through my pouches for my re-minted library card, but stopping halfway. I needed to cap off what was effectively a diplomatic venture based on the allusion of mutually beneficial acts, social debts, and causal inferences to power dynamics into something more palpable. I needed to, if only tangentially, temper the amenability of my conversation by the establishment of clear boundaries between our two parties. To establish myself not as just another piece in the dean¡¯s games to be easily moved around the board, but an independent player that just so happens to be open to reasonable dialogue. This wouldn¡¯t be done by just flashing him a gun, a bomb, or any other tool of violence. No, that would be too easy, and would be playing right into the stereotype of the barbaric newrealmer; even if the tech was light years ahead of anything the Nexus had. I needed to keep the long term viability of my mission in mind, to protect the future prospects of my activities within the Academy and the Nexus, in order to sustain the two primary goals that had already made themselves clear to me - diplomacy with other realms, and data-gathering on the Nexus itself. A statement of violence would irrevocably damage more nuanced endeavors, and would act as a provocation rather than serve as a firm statement. The best way to get my point across would be through a statement of social and political might, by using the elements of the world the Dean knew, to back it up. And I had just the thing for that. The seekership. Or rather, by vaguely confirming that my relationship with the library had now transcended the level of patronage, and had now reached ¡®working relationship¡¯ levels of affiliation. The act of delivering the letter itself, serving as evidence enough for this fact. ¡°I wish for today to mark a new beginning for the both of us, Professor. I wish to see our paths progress in parallel directions, preferably without intersecting for the foreseeable future. For further actions taken against me that may be construed as antagonistic in nature will no longer just be affecting me in my capacity as a candidate and a newrealmer¡­¡± I paused for added effect, garnering a look of conceited confusion from the man. ¡°... But as a Seeker of Truth as well.¡± I added vaguely, capping those words off with just a brief flash of my reminted card, pulling it out just far enough that the new edges to its borders were visible, but nothing else. Giving the man an image of just enough of the developments, keeping him on edge, but otherwise keeping him from the full picture. I held myself and the pin-drop silence for the longest second of my life, before finally, and just as swiftly, turning around to leave; not once glancing behind me as my rear mounted cameras did all the work for me. They revealed to me the face of a man who maintained that expression of calm, all the way until I finally faced my back towards him, when a look of shock and confusion finally took hold. I now had four different wide-angle shots of that, in fact. [Alert: Successful deployment of INFIL-DRONE01 confirmed. Undesignated infiltration mission initiated 3 Minutes and 27 seconds prior to alert.] Make that five, and then some, once the infiltration drone was finished with its mission. Chapter 58: Downtime You know that feeling you get when you walk out of the last exam of the school year? That weird light-chested feeling you get when you¡¯re hit with the cool gust of autumn air and then realize¡­ you¡¯re done? Where a flick of your eyeballs towards the once-seemingly never ending ¡®to-do¡¯ list courtesy of your AR-lenses reveals the completely foreign sight of an empty calendar in your weekly planner¡¯s HUD? Where you instinctively reach for your phone, unrolling it, only to reveal that your friend groups, chatrooms, servers, and forums once filled to the brim with a neverending flood of anxiety-ridden exam-related questions have suddenly and abruptly gone dark? Well, that¡¯s where I stood as I was finally escorted out of the faculty tower, and back into the Academy castle proper. I couldn¡¯t feel the cool autumn air, of course. I also didn¡¯t have an infosphere or extranet connection to check any servers, not that it would even matter here anyways. But what I did have was my trusty to-do list, and the seemingly infinite collapsible and expandable lists of objectives to accomplish. And what they revealed¡­ was nothing short of euphoric. Emptiness. An empty, vacant vacuum for an entire day. No crazy errands to run, no unexpected missions to accomplish, nothing but a big old nothing. I couldn¡¯t help but to audibly laugh inside of my suit, starting with a dry chuckle, then soon evolving into something just under a cry-laugh as I realized that it was all over. All of it¡­ from the null to the bomb to Mal¡¯tory and to Ilunor¡¯s trial¡­ all of it was over. And while the big objectives were still much apparent later down the to-do list, and while there was an objective at the very far end of the calendar, that being the ECS shard of impart dragon hunt, that was still a ways away. Because today? Today was finally a free day. And I couldn¡¯t help but to just¡­ slump, activating the suit¡¯s in-armor positional reorientation mode, and just standing there in a quiet part of the castle for a good few minutes. I felt so light. I felt so weightless. I was free. And now, it was time to enjoy that freedom while it lasted. Before classes started up tomorrow.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 1200 Hours. Emma Booker I arrived back at the dorms with a skip in my step. Or rather, as much of a skip as was possible inside my suit. The room had never looked so inviting, what with the afternoon sun lighting it up in a bright yellow warmth that would¡¯ve been perfect for Bim Bim to laze around in if she was here. It was insane just how much your mindset could change the way you perceive the outside world. Because right now, I was seeing the place in an absolutely different light. Gone were the anxieties related to setting up the tent and hoping everything worked, and gone was the constant stresses of dealing with the subterfuge-related crap the discount kobold was up to. Now, I could finally enjoy the room without anything else getting in the way of it. What¡¯s more, I finally had something to look forward to. Actually talking to the friends and newfound allies I¡¯d made under pressure, forged in the fires of adventure. It was time to just talk for conversation¡¯s sake, to begin the mundanities of college life, alongside the added bonus of potential inter-realm diplomacy. The latter was definitely how I¡¯d be framing it when I got to writing the weekly report I¡¯d been putting off, at the very least. ¡°Note to self: classify any and all casual banter between me and the rest of the gang as quote: spontaneous interpersonal dialogue with the intent of furthering macropolitical transdimensional diplomacy via informal context-dependant topical discussions; fostering an environment of good-will and trust in line with SIOP recommendations.¡± I spoke with a faux-¡¯official¡¯ tone of voice, more or less channeling my inner Dr. Rosling, and imitating the way the sociology department¡¯s scientists spoke to one another whenever they were going full academo-speak. A full year of constant exposure to them was enough to imbue my brain with that manner of speech. Which made me wonder¡­ would a full year at the Academy do the same to me when it came to fancy noble-speak? That line of thought was quickly, and thankfully, interrupted by the clack clack clack of the familiar sounds of bare talons against the wood and stone floors of the room. This was followed by the thump thump thumps of Thalmin¡¯s battle-grade boots, and the surprisingly silent appearance of Ilunor, as I began to notice that he had a strange and almost uncanny ability to walk without generating any distinct audible footsteps. All three soon found themselves facing me down in the living room. All three standing with varying levels of nervousness hidden underneath their own unique forms of social masking. Thacea with her resting regal-face, Thalmin with a more friendly expression of excitement and candor, and Ilunor¡­ by looking eternally miffed. It was as if he was eternally stuck with an expression of mild inconvenience. ¡°So, how¡¯d it go?¡± Thalmin was the first to break the silence, his two, almond-shaped, amber-yellow eyes giving off major friendly vibes despite the excitable open grin that placed his razor-sharp teeth on full display. ¡°Wellllll¡­¡± I began cryptically, exaggerating my syllables, pausing for effect, all with the intent of teasing the group more than anything. ¡°Out with it, newrealmer.¡± Ilunor interrupted abruptly. ¡°Have you, or have you not succeeded in drawing out the man¡¯s ire, all at my expense?¡± The small thing was still very clearly on edge following the apprentice¡¯s announcement over breakfast, an announcement made just prior to me defusing the whole investigation situation. ¡°I-¡± THUMP THUMP THUMP A series of three, distinct, rocky knocks rattled the room. As my conversation once more found itself derailed by an outside force. I hitched up my breath, a sense of an all too-familiar nervousness suddenly overtaking me. But just as suddenly as that gut-churning, pit-forming, sensation came, so too did my rational mind pierce through its vice grip. There was no reason to panic, and even if there was, I¡¯d end up going through the same motions anyways. So with another breath, and with that realization in mind, I headed over to the door; much to Ilunor¡¯s growing nervousness. But unlike his jitteriness, I both reached for, and swung open the door in one smooth motion. This revealed not another faceless danger, or the return of a certain null, but a gargoyle and a familiar bandaged apprentice who greeted me with nothing less than a warm smile. ¡°I apologize for any interruptions incurred by my unannounced intrusion, but I have a letter from the Dean himself. A letter, addressed to Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower Level 23, Residence 30, to be delivered post-haste.¡± Larial spoke with an air of officialdom, still with a tired voice, but now without that overtone of annoyance that had colored our first interaction on that first night. I received the letter, opening it up to reveal something unexpected, but something that I should¡¯ve expected given the magical shenanigans of the Academy. On the paper was what looked to be a moving e-ink-like ¡®video¡¯ of the Dean. Except instead of addressing me outright, the message it first conveyed was bordering on being offensive. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I must remind students that all messages must be opened by your own hands, and not the hands of your inanimate servile constructs.¡± Larial couldn¡¯t help but to give me a small twinge of an apologetic look upon overhearing this, as she quickly tapped the letter with a finger, prompting the now-static image of the Dean to reanimate to life. This time with a less dismissive look on his recorded face. ¡°TO ALL STUDENTS. THE CULPRIT HAS BEEN APPREHENDED. THE SITUATION HAS BEEN RECTIFIED. ALL IS WELL. CARRY ON. AND REST WELL FOR THE START TO YOUR JOURNEY.¡± ¡°Thank you, Apprentice Larial.¡± I responded with a cheery chipperness in my voice. ¡°Oh, and I hope you¡¯re recovering alright.¡± I added sheepishly, reaching over to rub the back of my helmet, once more garnering a solid bonk. ¡°The pleasure is all mine, Emma Booker.¡± The apprentice responded with an equally polite response, before moving on to a more¡­ personable tone of voice, delineating the next response as a personal one rather than one spoken in any official capacity. ¡°And yes, the Master Healer states that my healing is progressing as expected. I should make a full recovery by the middle of next week.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s good to hear!¡± I announced excitedly, all but allowing my genuine sense of relief to color my words. It was just a few days ago when I saw her barely breathing and splayed out on the ground after all. So to see her here, back in the thick of her duties, with a clean bill of health, was something that was as jarring as it was a welcome change of pace. ¡°And again, thank you for everything.¡± I added with a bright smile, subtly hinting at the help I received from her, before garnering yet another polite nod. That was about as far as it went when it came to her acknowledgment of the role she played in the bomb drama however. But that wasn¡¯t the end of my overactive mind as a sudden, rather dark, intrusive but reasonable thought suddenly made itself known. One that I just had to follow through with. ¡°Say¡­ would you mind if I asked you as to how Professor Mal¡¯tory is doing?¡± I asked suddenly and abruptly, prompting an equally abrupt shift in the apprentice¡¯s features as it looked as if her internal threat levels had raised from zero to a hundred in a fraction of a second. ¡°I do not know.¡± She responded simply, and curtly, all the warmth from our interaction draining as she considered her next few words carefully. ¡°Moreover, I am not at liberty to discuss the personal affairs of the faculty and staff, Emma Booker. So I must apologize for being unable to fulfill this point of personal privilege.¡± ¡°No no. It¡¯s fine. I was just curious.¡± I replied amicably, ending the brief moment of tension, marked by a relieved exhale from the apprentice. ¡°Till we meet again, Emma Booker. And hopefully, on increasingly better and more cordial terms.¡± She spoke with a short bow, before stepping away from the door, and moving on just as quickly. I quickly peered out of the front door to see her all but repeating the same motions on our next door neighbor. A neighbor that was, surprisingly, someone I immediately recognized from yesterday¡¯s assembly. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A72 ETHOLIN ESILA - RONTALIS REALM [NEUTRAL] It was the skittish, ferret-like, ¡®merchant noble¡¯. He poked his head out after receiving a similar letter from the apprentice. Though even that benign motion was undeniably cute given his body morphology. His neck and torso being almost one and the same made it seem like he had a forever extendable upper body that just continued extending further and further into the hallway as he turned his slinky body towards my dorm. This was clearly done with a purpose in mind however, as with a nervous smile, he waved me down politely. I managed to exchange a warm, polite smile, only to just as quickly realize that all he saw was a neutral, unflinching, featureless helmet that stared him down without much in the way of emotive nuance. It was probably because of that, that he slowly, and cautiously, began inching his long, extended neck-torso back into his room, before gently closing the door behind him with a soft ka-thunk. [Reminder: A72 Etholin Esila has requested a date and time for a meeting over an undisclosed subject matter.] A small notification popped up in my right hand corner, prompting me to respond to it with an instinctive blink of acknowledgement. ¡°Delay it for now, we¡¯ll put that under secondary objectives for next week. Provided, of course, that primary objectives and studies don¡¯t overwhelm me.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. [Acknowledged.] With the interruptions dealt with, I finally closed the front door shut, and turned back to the rest of the group. Ilunor, at this point, was once more absolutely fuming. His cheeks intermittently shifting between a ghostly-drained pale blue and a sickly vibrant turquoise, as if shifting back and forth between dread and utter fear. ¡°Newrealmer.¡± He uttered sternly. To which I refused to reply, until he finally relented with a little stomp of his feet. ¡°Emma.¡± ¡°Yes, Ilunor?¡± ¡°The letter. What does it say?¡± He managed out under a smoke filled breath. ¡°Oh this?¡± I held up teasingly, before committing to a little tomfoolery as I folded it up in the form of one of humanity¡¯s oldest viable designs for an unmanned, unpowered, monocoque flying machine. A paper airplane. ¡°Catch!¡± I flung the thing with just enough force, and with the precision of an AI-assisted launch, that it began flying loops above the Vunerian¡¯s head. The little thing reached up, jumping as he did so, before another burst of mana radiation made itself known. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 150% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A small gust of wind suddenly appeared out of nowhere, sending the folded letter flying even higher as if it¡¯d just picked up a jetstream. The source of this second wave of tomfoolery was obvious enough if the toothy grin and the puffing of his chest didn¡¯t already give it away, as Thalmin continued to huff out faint magical gusts for twenty or so seconds before finally relenting. ¡°You will pay for this.¡± Ilunor seethed from two very-smokey nostrils, as he finally leaped up just high enough to reach the letter, unfolding it, to reveal the hard-earned results of my work. Coming in the form of that recorded message being replayed again for all to hear and see. His hands soon began to tremble, as an honest-to-god smile began forming on his face. A smiling, happy, and healthy looking Ilunor was definitely something I hadn¡¯t yet seen. But here it was, on full display, as he let out a long sharp exhale, before finally letting out a controlled burst of fire. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS The red and orange flames immediately eviscerated the small piece of paper pinched between the Vunerian¡¯s fingers, his hands seemingly impervious to the lapping of the flames, and the superheated object between them. Though they didn¡¯t have much time to continue holding onto it, as what was previously the letter fell through the Vunerian¡¯s fingertips like sand, before landing on the floor in a heaping, smoking, pile of ashes. ¡°May I ask why you had to do that?¡± I asked through a questioning sigh. ¡°Satisfaction, newrealmer. I wouldn¡¯t expect you to understand my draconic ways of course.¡± Ilunor responded with his expected pompous flair. ¡°Well, whatever the case is, that¡¯s two things you owe me for now.¡± I suddenly chimed in, eliciting a befuddled expression from the Vunerian. ¡°What?!¡± The little thing retorted indignantly with an audible snap of his jaws. ¡°Well¡­ judging from yesterday¡¯s letters, I¡¯m assuming you had trouble burning letters to a crisp.¡± I spoke nonchalantly, before pointing to the pile of ash and the small trail of smoke rising from it. ¡°That seems to be a marked improvement from yesterday if you ask me¡­ but hey, I¡¯m not an expert on your draconic ways so who am I to cast judgment.¡± ¡°It is wise that you acknowledge your limitations, Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor responded, but instead of his usual jabs, this one was weirdly¡­ positive coming from him. Sure it was acknowledging my self-deprecating statement, but it was done with a positive slant to it. Something that was already leagues beyond his blatantly antagonistic tendencies when we first met. This observation was quickly backed up by more of what he had to say. ¡°But despite your lack of expertise, and your novice observations¡­ you are indeed correct. My flame has well and truly returned to its draconic glory.¡± He announced proudly, placing both his hands against his hips with a little swing of his torso, timing that movement exactly to the swish of his mauve cape. Whilst I was satisfied by this, it seemed as if Thalmin wasn¡¯t happy with half-measures, as he let out a threatening dulcet growl, prompting the Vunerian to shudder instinctively in response, before letting out a sigh and an annoyed glare. ¡°Thank you, Emma Booker, for your aid in this aspect of my encumbrance as well.¡± He added reluctantly, prompting an approving nod from my end, which was enough to end the lupinor¡¯s latent threats. ¡°You''re welcome, Ilunor.¡± I responded curtly and with a tired sigh. ¡°Just remember our agreement last night and let¡¯s move on. Which¡­ speaking of¡­¡± I turned to the rest of the group. ¡°... I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve announced this properly yet, so here goes: I¡¯m officially done for the day now.¡± I announced with glee. ¡°And your talk with the Dean, Emma? How did that go, exactly?¡± Thacea just as quickly chimed in, attempting to fill in the gap of my sudden and lackadaisical statement. ¡°The results speak for themselves, I think.¡± I casually pointed to the burnt letter on the floor. ¡°But to clarify, it went surprisingly well all things considered.¡± ¡°How did he carry himself throughout the conversation? Were there any points in which you could infer hints at a parallel message being conveyed? In what manner did he start the conversation and in what fashion did he end it? And on what terms did you conclude these discussions? Were you able to-¡± ¡°You know what¡­¡± I interrupted Thacea right as she was in the thick of things. ¡°I think it¡¯ll be easier for me to just show you.¡± ¡­ It took just under an hour to review the footage, with about half of the time devoted to the gang pointing out key details practically every other second. The first notable one, was something that I¡¯d been meaning to ask the group since its sudden and abrupt revelation. ¡°So, just to clarify-¡± I began, pausing as I rewound the footage back to the hazy-eyed clerk that bumped into me in the dean¡¯s office. ¡°-what exactly is ¡®navigation-by-stream¡¯? Is it literally just like an extra sense you use to navigate with when your vision is preoccupied with something else? Using your mana-sense sort of like a natural LIDAR?¡± Thacea, and the rest of the group, could only stare blankly at the end of that questioning statement. They were definitely following for the first half, but sort of just dropped off a sheer cliff by the end of it. ¡°Lie¡­ Lie-darr?¡± Thalmin attempted to replicate what I¡¯d just said. ¡°No, foolish prince. She clearly said Lee-Darr-ay.¡± Ilunor promptly chimed in with his signature smug grin. ¡°Erm, okay, bad analogy, let me rephrase. Is ¡®navigation-by-stream¡¯, literally just replacing your normal visual senses by using your ability to sense mana to sort of¡­ visualize the world around you? Determining the placement of objects, obstacles, paths, and so on and so forth by how the mana-streams interact with objects within a given space?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Thacea announced with a resounding, conclusive, yet somewhat perplexed tone of voice. As if she wasn¡¯t expecting me to grasp it that quickly. ¡°I am assuming your people have some sort of an equivalent, despite your mana-less nature? Perhaps this lie-dar, being an innate acoustic ability of sorts?¡± ¡°Close, princess.¡± I nodded. ¡°We do have an equivalent, and indeed, multiple equivalents of this concept. Except we don¡¯t naturally possess any of these abilities.¡± Those latter words seemed to immediately set something off in the princess¡¯ head, as her eyes once more entered that signature ¡®lightbulb¡¯ stare that had become increasingly more frequent with each passing day. The same couldn¡¯t be said for Ilunor, however. ¡°So no acoustic equivalent like those lesser-avinor.¡± Ilunor concluded with a narrowing of his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know what a lesser-avinor is but, no, we don¡¯t possess that naturally.¡± ¡°And no underwater equivalent of such an ability as well?¡± He continued, his curiosity starting to color his words. ¡°No, but we do have animals back at home that can do that.¡± ¡°And no other innate abilities other than basic sight and sound by which to navigate the world around you?¡± ¡°No, just regular old color vision and a decent hearing range.¡± I paused, before turning to Thalmin. ¡°And probably way, way less of a range than what our mercenary prince friend here is capable of.¡± ¡°So your species is inherently deficient not just in the capacity of mana, but in the faculties of your natural forms as well?¡± I let out a sigh, as Ilunor once more marched, whether by intention or not, straight into his mightier-than-thou territory of speech. ¡°Nope.¡± I responded bluntly. ¡°But it is clear that through the inherent lack of natural gifts, her people have been driven to create artificial means of bridging the gap. Perhaps even surpassing them.¡± Thacea spoke plainly, simply, matter-of-factly, as if once more coming upon another realization. ¡°Being unsatisfied with their station in the natural order, they chose to dictate their fate through the purest form of sapient expression - innovation and creation.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t see how you could come to that conclusion-¡± ¡°Her very presence here as a mana-less being necessitated the creation of an artificial means of overcoming those deficiencies inherent in her species.¡± Thacea shot back without even an ounce of hesitation. ¡°She possesses artificial insects by which to act as her eyes and ears, extending her reach. She possesses devices that can bridge the gap between spaces in a similar fashion to a hearing-sense. Everything you can think of as a natural deficiency, her people have found a novel means of overcoming, if not outright surpassing them.¡± ¡°Thacea¡¯s right, Ilunor.¡± I suddenly entered the fray, tag-teaming Thacea with a small nod of acknowledgement. ¡°My species may lack natural acoustic mapping, the ability to track by scent, the ability to do this and that as seen across a multitude of species. But what we lack, we made up for in advanced tools. Tools that allow us to see even in the darkest of nights, tools that allow us to pierce through the seemingly impenetrable abyss of oceanic expanses, tools that allow us to pierce into the heavens themselves, and finally¡­ tools that allow us to replicate navigation-by-stream.¡± ¡°This is why I assume you were able to grasp the concept quickly, despite being mana-less, and lacking any natural equivalent to the concept? This, lie-dar, being another tool which all but achieves the same ends?¡± Thacea added with a questioning gaze. ¡°Precisely, princess.¡± Thacea took a moment to process that, before responding with an affirmative nod. ¡°If in doubt, just assume an Earthrealmer has a tool for that.¡± Thalmin added jokingly, though there was a clear undercurrent of unease from that statement as well, as if the lupinor understood that with all proverbial doors being open¡­ if a line could even be drawn in terms of what was and what wasn¡¯t possible. ¡°But I digress. Are there any other topics you wanted to touch upon in this memory shard with the Dean?¡± ¡°Yeah, one actually. A pretty major one if you ask me¡­¡± ¡°Your foolhardy and unnecessarily risky plan to spy on the man using your mana-less insect?¡± Thacea all but lashed out. ¡°I know you have your gripes about that particular aspect of the mission, princess but¡­ this was an opportunity I couldn¡¯t just let slip by. Heck, it may even help in Ilunor¡¯s case, or better¡­ it may clue us in into where the man stands in this whole conspiracy. This is vital intel I wouldn¡¯t have been able to come across otherwise.¡± ¡°The higher you fly, the greater the risks.¡± Thacea responded sharply. ¡°But I see your points, even though I disagree with the cost-to-benefit ratio of this action.¡± ¡°High risk, high reward.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Seems like our two cultures have some similar concepts in this regard. I guess I¡¯m just a high risk type of girl. Anyways, my main gripe isn¡¯t with the success potential of the drone. It¡¯s about one thing the Dean hinted at¡­ the implications that there exists more eyes, more ears, and most distressingly of all¡­ more hands in the ever growing web of interests that is my candidacy.¡± ¡°That is to be expected, Emma.¡± Thacea responded matter of factly. ¡°The candidacy has and always will be a tool by which to gauge and ascertain the worthiness of a realm for Nexian reformation.¡± ¡°You¡¯re putting it in terms that are far too kind and in-line with the Nexian narrative, princess.¡± Thalmin swiftly interjected. ¡°But the avinor princess is correct, my dear mercenary prince. The candidacy is a means of gauging the potential of an adjacent realm. Which all but guarantees interest from a vast collection of individuals beyond the faculty and staff of the Academy. In the case of such a novel and unique case as the Earthrealmer¡¯s¡­ I hazard to guess that this number may be far more than typical.¡± Ilunor once more interrupted Thalmin¡¯s wary remark, adding a surprisingly well composed and constructive addition to the flow of the conversation. ¡°Right, okay.¡± I acknowledged the inputs of the three, nodding along with their respective takes on the situation. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll cross that particular bridge if or when it comes. The Mal¡¯tory situation probably put a massive red flag on my candidacy so, I guess this shouldn¡¯t have come as a surprise. It¡¯s just surprising that the Dean would openly admit it.¡± ¡°The man¡¯s trying to appeal to your sensibilities, Booker.¡± Ilunor once more piped up, this time, treading into Thacea-territory. ¡°He¡¯s trying to single himself out as a potentially agreeable party, as a hand amidst hands. He¡¯s trying to impose a narrative by which he isn¡¯t your enemy, but rather, someone acting in the interests of his station rather than himself.¡± I narrowed my eyes at that, quickly turning to Thacea to gauge her reactions. ¡°Ilunor¡¯s point holds merit.¡± She acknowledged in a surprising display of solidarity with the Vunerian. ¡°More to the point however, this marks the success of your attempts at assuring the man¡¯s temperament through the social debt incurred by your actions with the library in addressing the Academy¡¯s obligation in delivering the perpetrator of the great scarring. This is, in a sense, an extension of a truce through the acknowledgement of a fragment of the greater truth to you. It is a symbolic gesture in-line with the normalization of relations following the social faux pas at the assembly, and hinting at a potential future where both parties may coexist.¡± ¡°Coexisting is what I hoped to guarantee by the way I ended that conversation.¡± I quickly added. ¡°Because as much as he is the Dean, I needed him to understand that I won¡¯t just sit by and tolerate further blatant incursions.¡± ¡°A fitting gesture and one that I fully stand by.¡± Thalmin nodded. ¡°Once again, another¡­ as you say, high risk high reward maneuver, Emma.¡± Thacea concluded, not adding any more to that than she needed to. ¡°With all of that being said.¡± Thalmin began up again, barely seconds after the tail end of that line of conversation had just ended. ¡°We¡¯ve already touched upon just how unique your sensibilities are despite your physical limitations. We¡¯ve likewise almost broached the topic that was your realm the night prior. Would it be too much to ask if we could reach the logical conclusion of these discussions? Addressing and demonstrating the nature of your realm?¡± A small smile crept up my face as I nodded affirmatively, but not before Thalmin raised a single finger in a small objection. ¡°But where are my manners¡­ I can¡¯t just blatantly address such a matter without a gesture of good faith from my own end. It isn¡¯t the Havenbrock way. As such, I¡¯m willing to take the first step, to start us off with a small brief glimpse into my own realm¡­ provided you are alright with that, Emma?¡± A glimmer of excitement suddenly made itself known stemming from the pit of my gut and just as quickly swallowing me whole. That childlike sense of wonder suddenly took over, as I nodded excitedly. This was what I was here for. ¡°Yes please!¡± I beamed out, almost breaking that calmer more mature side of myself for a moment, before I turned to both Thacea and Ilunor. ¡°So erm, considering we¡¯re doing this now¡­ would you care to also participate in this show and tell?¡± Thacea, reluctantly, and wordlessly nodded. Followed suit by a prideful, almost snarky grin from the likes of Ilunor. ¡°Oh Emma Booker, you should not have asked for a game of comparisons, for the results of this contest shall most certainly be in my favor.¡± I looked on at the Vunerian, allowing him to continue as he began rattling off the great boons of his realm, prompting me to flip through my HUD, scrolling through the vast contents of the CED, and then finally landing on the schematics to the holoprojector that needed some setting up in my dorm. ¡°EVI.¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go through the library. There should be a lot we can work with depending on where Thalmin and the rest of the group takes this.¡± ¡°Affirmative, Cadet Booker. Accessing CULTURAL EXCHANGE DATABASE.¡± Chapter 59: The Mercenary Prince The cultural exchange database was vast, expansive, and most importantly of all¡­ it was dynamic. It was designed to be that way, such that the information conveyed within could be tailored and trimmed to fit the socio-cultural particularities of whatever entity, polity, or civilization existed on the other side of the portal. I, along with the EVI¡¯s very-specifically coded subroutines for this very eventuality, could effectively pick and choose from the compendium of all human knowledge, the cumulative sum total of all that had ever existed; barring of course a good chunk of specifics and details that would¡¯ve otherwise taken up too much drive space. Still, the condensed cumulative sum of all human experience was nothing to scoff at. What¡¯s more, it was way more than what I needed for the purposes of this little demo. I needed to be selective, gradual, and conservative in my approach in information dissemination after all. Because if Thacea¡¯s experience was anything to go by, Fundamental Systemic Incongruency was something that I¡¯d need to consistently consider; lest I show Earth Ring in the first five seconds of my demo, and the whole thing just ends up flying over everyone¡¯s heads, killing not just the whole vibe and mood of the reveal but actively sabotaging one of the core tenets of my mission altogether. Ruining any meaningful capacity to understand by outright overloading them with knowledge they would have zero reference points for. I needed to start simple. Or more specifically, I¡¯d have to start off with something they could relate to. Something that was topical in-the-moment. A jumping off point that the group could easily comprehend. A subject matter that was close to home for them, before eventually slowly zooming out, expanding outwards, and building brick by brick the progress humanity had made on matters they were familiar with. It was metal foundries and forges in Thacea¡¯s case, given how the conversation topic at the time trended towards my armor and the material sciences behind it, and even then I halted it at around the 21st to 22nd century Earth-bound forges. ¡°Alright then! It¡¯s decided, I shall be going first.¡± Thalmin began with a wide eyed look of excitement, slamming his open paw down on the table in a display of emotive telegraphy. ¡°Well let''s hear it!¡± I matched Thalmin¡¯s excitement with beat for beat. ¡°Not just yet, Emma.¡± Thalmin responded cryptically, standing up to full height. ¡°For I doubt mere words will be sufficient to convey the beauty and majesty that is Havenbrock. It would be far, far too common of me to simply resolve to oral descriptions to illustrate my home, my people, and my heritage. Not especially to an audience of peers.¡± He spoke with a certain swagger that matched his pace. A beam of excitement continued through each and every one of his steps as he marched his way towards his room. This prompted me to begin preempting various topics whilst Thalmin was away. My eyes continued to scroll across topic after topic, the seemingly endless library of information being more than familiar to me given the sociology department and diplomatic corps¡¯ methodical lessons and constant drilling. There was just so much to pick and choose from, and part of me simply wanted to just go for a complete timelapse of civilization, but I¡¯d hold off on that for now. At least until Thalmin comes back with the accompanying equipment he needed to start his own demo off with. And return he did, now with an eclectic collection of objects cradled in his arms. Objects ranging from a book that looked more akin to a massive party-sized ancient tome that could literally be used as a bludgeoning weapon in a pinch, a metal bracket that looked like the love child between an ancient bear-trap and an archaic dentistry apparatus, along with a mysterious satin sack that rattled with each and every step he took. The lupinor promptly, and proudly, placed this random assortment of items on the coffee table in front of us, and within the span of the next few minutes got to work assembling it all. First by opening the book with a dull, table-rattling THUD, flipping the book several pages in. Then by attaching the gnarly metal bracket up and along the spine of the book, before clamping it down with a hair-raising clank! The clamp extended outward to reveal several ¡®sockets¡¯ extended on spindly arms above the pages of the book, clearly intended for something. The whole thing currently looked like an orrery had been fused into a book, with the different ¡®sockets¡¯ empty and awaiting some final addition. That something soon turned out to be the contents of the red and white velvety sack, which consisted of an array of crystals, rocks, and strangest of all - a small vial of iridescent liquid. Thalmin soon began the careful and meticulous process of placing crystal after crystal in each of the sockets, before grabbing a few glass lenses, and pouring the mysterious liquid over them, causing them to glow a bright pink hue. The ¡®completed¡¯ product turned out to literally just be a book caged in a metal clamp, with various crystals, rocks, and a vial of glowing liquid all suspended above it within the ¡®jaws¡¯ of the clamp. Again, like an orrery pulled straight from a heavy metal album cover. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse my ignorance, Thalmin¡­ what the heck am I supposed to be looking at here?¡± ¡°Heh, now you know how it feels when you bring out another reality-defying artifice out of your pocket, Emma.¡± Thalmin replied with a cocky jab, complemented by a smile that more or less confirmed his friendly and facetious intent. ¡°Right then, this here is-¡± ¡°-a common implement, one that has been seen by an untold realms¡¯ worth of eyes, across an unimaginable length of eons. An implement that has been reproduced in innumerable quantities, with an equally lengthy number of design iterations. The commoners call it a pocket play. We call it the poor man¡¯s transportium. For reasons that are very, very apparent of course.¡± Ilunor placed a single hand upon his frilly neckerchief at that, letting out an obnoxious laugh only a noble was capable of. This was however swiftly shut down by a growl from Thalmin as he not-so-subtly urged the Vunerian to move on. ¡°Ahem, as I was saying, it is actually referred to by the proper-monicker of Sight-Seer.¡± I blinked a few times at that name, cocking my head as I did so. ¡°Does¡­ does that imply what I think it implies-?¡± ¡°Indeed, an ingenious name if I do say so myself. For you see, you see different sights through this seer. As if you were a sight-seer, a tourist, a visitor, an adventurer embarking on new realms.¡± Ilunor paused. I didn¡¯t really have anything to respond to that with, as I simply stared Ilunor down with a stone cold expression. ¡°Okay, first off, I admit¡­ I love the pun.¡± Ilunor, completely flabbergasted and not expecting my response, responded with an incredulous retort. ¡°It is not a common jape, Emma Booker, it is a thoughtful and well worded title for such a time-honored artifice. Even if it may have lost its novel luster over the generations, it is still prudent to respect the title given to it by its original artificer.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not dissing it, Ilunor. I¡¯m saying that I actually enjoy the humor in that title.¡± ¡°But there is no humor to be found! This is a serious matter befitting of your newrealmer respect-¡± ¡°And respect it I will.¡± I quickly interjected, halting what sounded like the start to an enthusiast¡¯s defensive tirades. ¡°Depending of course on how it stacks up to what I have packed away.¡± I quickly added with a wink. ¡°And I¡¯m gonna hold off on any comparisons with my holo-projector for now, at least until I see how well this thing works.¡± I quickly added, prompting Thalmin¡¯s eyes to grow wide with concern over exactly what I meant, but doing nothing to either placate nor intimidate the Vunerian. I soon turned towards Thalmin with a nod. ¡°Alrighty then, let¡¯s see it.¡± I urged, attempting to cut off any further potential for interruptions from the Vunerian. Thalmin didn¡¯t waste any time as he turned his full attention towards the magical contraption, hovering both hands a few inches above the two lenses that flanked the twisted orrery. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A surge of mana radiation preceded what was in effect, a tightening of the clamp onto the pages of the book, the harsh metal at one point seemingly melting into the parchment-like paper, before releasing a sudden and abrupt whirr as the different extensions began flailing to and fro. The rocks and crystals glowing quickly after, before suddenly and abruptly, raising mana radiation levels even higher. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 250% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Though not by too much considering the other mana radiation blips I¡¯d experienced so far. Not a second later, the room was bathed in a piercing white light, followed by shades of black and sepia that began layering themselves one after the other, until finally, the a rainbow of colors flashed before my eyes in a blinding instant; revealing what looked to be a watercolor painting that surrounded us on all sides. My rear and side facing cameras revealed that there was now, in fact, a three dimensional projection being overlaid all around us; like an immersive holographic experience. However, where holographic experiences generally took up more space and required a sparse, if not empty, room to operate optimally; this projection managed to more or less ignore our cluttered surroundings almost entirely. Or more accurately, it actually managed to morph its surroundings for its own purposes, deconstructing and reconstituting it into whatever it was projecting. To the point where the world around us slowly melted into something new. The large bookshelf near the dining room table had suddenly become part of the thick and impenetrable door of some guard house. The dining room table and chairs themselves had similarly been transformed into a series of rustic-looking equivalents, with the silverware and fine decor becoming little more than spare parts and equipment, alongside a few jugs of ale, and a whole load of dull weapons currently in the process of cleaning and sharpening. Regaining my bearings, it felt like we¡¯d just been thrust into a whole other world, with only the immediate epicenter of the book itself spared from this strange holographic projection. We were now, in effect, a small bubble of our own reality - two sofas, a coffee table, and the cold granite floors beneath us, surrounded by a living, breathing, water-color painting of an idyllic medieval world that would¡¯ve fit right at home with the Chronicles of Zelza series. More specifically, the most recent hit: the Cries of the Empire. I looked up from my seated position to see the gates of some large medieval city in front of me, surrounded by a winding river with a single, large, white sandstone bridge whose design looked strangely roman-esque. A large guard house and guard tower stood in our way between the river and the city walls proper, manned by a platoon¡¯s worth of lupinor guardsmen of varying heights, sizes, builds, and even equipment. With some looking like they¡¯d just walked out of spawn with starter-tier cloth armor, and others donning full plate with dings and dents. Yet despite that, everything still had this toony, almost cell-shaded look to it. Which was, again, the hallmark of the Cries of the Empire series. Something that the sparse yet expansive stretches of farmland surrounding the city seemed to really add to as well. ¡°Ugh, this infernal artifice requires more fine tuning. Spare me a moment.¡± Thalmin interrupted abruptly, kneeling down to tweak and reseat some of the crystals, which for a moment caused the world to lose color, then outline, then fine shading, almost reverting it to what looked to be a flip-book like animation. ¡°I¡¯m going to assume that it isn¡¯t supposed to look like a watercolor painting at the start?¡± ¡°Yes, it¡¯s supposed to be realistic, not some fairytale brought to life¡­¡± Thalmin growled out in annoyance, more towards his equipment more than anything. ¡°Have you tried hitting it?¡± The lupinor paused, turning towards me with a befuddled expression. ¡°Trust me, it works.¡± I offered once more through a sheepish smile, prompting the mercenary prince to let out a sigh of frustration, before slamming the whole thing gently with his fist. Things started to radically shift almost immediately, as that bout of percussive maintenance resulted in yet another burst of mana radiation, coupled with the scenery surrounding us suddenly clearing up. Going through layer after successive ¡®layer¡¯ of animation: from sketch, to linework, to flat colors, to shading, before suddenly turning photo-realistic. It was as if someone had just cycled through the different texture packs for Blick Block from the least to the most graphics intensive settings. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Needless to say, it finally worked, as we were now well and truly immersed in a photo-realistic holographic experience. ¡°Well then.¡± Thalmin blinked rapidly in response, before turning towards me with a bewildered expression. ¡°I guess that works too.¡± He spoke with a bemused chuckle. ¡°Alright then, I think it should be apparent enough what this is.¡± The lupinor turned to the rest of the group, garnering a few nods, before landing his eyes back on me. ¡°For Emma¡¯s sake, I will explain it. This particular sight-seer was made with the intention of recording my own personal experiences, for the purposes of demonstrating the current state of Havenbrock¡¯s capital to those that may request it, or to those that I may wish to show of my own volition.¡± The lupinor paused, as if pondering his next few points carefully. ¡°However, I would be remiss if I did not mention the alternate uses of this artifice, as it likewise acts as a reminder of home for those instances I may wish to escape the stuffy confines of the Academy for the familiar comforts of home. Furthermore, the court mages have likewise taken it upon themselves to translate everything from Havenbrock to High Nexian, so everything being spoken will be understandable to all of you. So with that out of the way, let us commence.¡± The panoramic cinematic VR-esque experience around us quickly resumed, most obviously evidenced by everything around us moving again, but likewise by a second, rather unexpected addition that should¡¯ve been obvious from the start. ¡°Welcome back, my prince.¡± Sound. Most notably in the form of the guards in front of the bridge speaking, before bowing each and every one of their heads low in greetings of the POV of this immersive experience - Thalmin himself. It hadn¡¯t yet occurred to me that there was a speaker system hidden within this ramshackled magical device. But then again, it was magic, so I guess full Kolby Digital surround sound was to be expected. ¡°Glad to be back, I¡¯m afraid I have to report that there remains nary a straggler corp¡¯s worth of Greyfang Knights for you to hunt down now, Sir Rehlin.¡± What was undeniably Thalmin¡¯s voice spoke from the perspective of the ¡®camera¡¯ recording the whole experience, prompting me to do a double take as I cocked my head at the man. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be a proper Royal Hunt if that wasn¡¯t the case, my Prince.¡± The red-furred wolf responded with a proper predatory grin on her face, soon backed up by a chorus of howling cheers from the rest of the guard unit, who each picked up their weapons and began clanging them against their shields. This act bothered the Vunerian to no end, as he hissed in response. ¡°With that being said, here¡¯s a gift from old man Balnan himself.¡± The POV recording of Thalmin continued, pulling out a heavy leather satchel, before opening it to reveal a bloodied sword. ¡°Is that¡­¡± ¡°The coveted greatsword.¡± Thalmin responded with a confidence imbued with both authority and regality, the man carrying himself in a way that honestly fit his title.¡±Take it, it¡¯s yours.¡± ¡°But I can¡¯t-¡± ¡°Remember The Promise, Sir Rehlin. The spoils of victory shall go to those that carry the blade-¡± ¡°-loyal to the House that bears the Writ of the Call to Arms.¡± The red furred wolf completed Thalmin¡¯s sentence for him, nodding to him respectfully before handing the sword off to an older looking wolf who began inspecting and cleaning it almost instantly. The whole exchange felt as if I''d just been plonked into the middle of one of those multi-decade running fantasy shows, as whilst I got the context clues for it, I was now more or less just¡­ lost for the greater context of the scene. ¡°That accounts for the last of the Balnan rebellion¡¯s regular forces. It shouldn¡¯t be long before they collapse under the pressure.¡± POV-Thalmin continued up again, now walking across the bridge with the red wolf in tow. ¡°Just in time for your departure to the Nexus, your Grace.¡± She responded, changing the manner in which she spoke and the titles she used for him just as they passed through the towering front gates. What were effectively two, monolithic, turreted towers flanking a metal gate, with arrow slits and embrasures meticulously carved into the thick stone bricks. Some of them even looked too seamless to be done by hand, whilst others seemed to glow with a faint magical aura. ¡°A departure which I most graciously look forward to¡­¡± Thalmin responded in a sarcastic growl, before turning to the quickly-gathering crowd of onlookers - lupinors of varying shades and colors of fur, dressed in anything from shabby rags to colorful robes. Raising a hand, the crowd began cheering, but just as the festivities began, so too did it take a sudden shift. As a sudden, loud rattling emerged from behind the pair, belonging to a colorful and decked out carriage painted in scenes of battle. With streaks of crimson coating the side, unclear of whether they were part of the canvas itself, or actual blood from some recent battle. The crowds really began gathering at this point, as another lupinor poked his head out from the carriage, before rising to the top like some sort of a 23rd century politician in a sunroof motorcade. This wolf looked eerily familiar to Thalmin, prompting me to do a double take with the man in real life, just before the question of his identity was quickly addressed by the holographic recording as it continued playing. ¡°Make way! Make way for the return of the Crown Prince¡¯s hunting party! Make way for His Royal Highness Crown Prince Krahmin!¡± A booming voice from the front of the carriage shouted, prompting both POV-Thalmin and Rehlin to step aside, as the long line of carriages, horsemen, pikemen, and a thousand other assorted melee-weapon carrying soldiers began marching down the large open paths of the main street, now truly drawing the cheers, hoots, and hollers of the gathered crowd. There was a split second where POV-Thalmin¡¯s eyes seemingly met what I assumed was his eldest brother, as the more decorated, lauded lupinor gave him a visible nod before just as quickly being driven off towards a castle in the far distance. The pace of the recording seemed to slow down now, coinciding with the leisurely pace of the POV¡¯s walking speed, as I now took the time to take a good look at the world around me. All around me were what looked to be three to four story townhouse developments. With storefronts and open gutters leading to larger storm drains just beneath the roadside. Brick and mortar storefronts were practically cluttered and blanketed by a never-ending sea of informal and temporary-looking market stands that lined almost every inch of ¡®raised¡¯ sidewalk, forcing the pedestrians onto the streets, as they shared a large three-lane ¡®road¡¯ with the constant traffic. A traffic consisting of buggies, the occasional chariot, and the seemingly ubiquitous open-back wagons that carried anything from livestock, to hay, to sacks of grains, and barrels of ale. It was around this point that all pretenses of Havenbrock to High Nexian translations ended, as I could now hear the unfiltered speech of a thousand different lupinors speaking in anything from casual speech to loud shouts. More of the latter as well, given how the street hawkers seemed to be absolutely dominating the local space, selling anything from cured meats and salted fish to leather sandals and handmade baskets. Some stores even sold both alongside one another, advertising a sign that looked to be fish sandals. Looking further down the main road, which was notably constructed out of cobblestone and not paracrete, unisphalt, composalite, or a composite of the three, the path seemed to head straight through to an imposing castle that sat atop of what was ostensibly a plateau. A distinction that needed to be made from a simple hill, as the large walled structure sat atop of a natural elevation significantly higher than the rest of the city. In fact, there seemed to be a winding path that needed to be taken to actually reach the castle itself from ground level, a path that was barricaded by yet another set of walls deeper still into the city. Indeed, the more I looked, the more the city seemed more akin to a sort of fortress¡­ a stronghold even. With layered defenses increasing the deeper and deeper you went, and structures rising in both height and grandeur the closer you got to the castle proper. If it wasn¡¯t for me knowing Thalmin personally, the whole city would¡¯ve given me real evil empire capital vibes. With its propensity for darker color palettes, and its preference for martial traditions in the form of these excessive defenses, not to mention the villain-like lair atop of a plateau. However, even if I didn¡¯t know Thalmin, a few minutes worth of people watching would¡¯ve been enough for me to tell that aesthetics alone couldn¡¯t tell the whole story. As despite the seemingly bustling chaos, there was an order and respectfulness to everything. As younger working age lupinors aided the more elderly wherever they could, and storefronts despite always being seemingly on edge of violent altercations, seemed courteous enough to help set up shop where two sets of hands were needed as opposed to one. Indeed, there was a strange sense of community here that wasn¡¯t that far off from both my hometowns, a vibe that continued the further Thalmin and his guard went. Low-rise developments soon gave rise to five, ten, and even twenty story structures occasionally interrupted by a Cathedral or other large public buildings; all of which seemed to be a cross between this mediterranean Roman-esque design what with the lupinor¡¯s seemingly never ending obsession for pillars and colonnades, but crossed with a more medieval style of building with the wooden and stone construction, as well as facades adorned with wood and coarse plaster. Thatched roofing also quickly gave rise to red and orange tile roofs, as well as increasingly cleaner and cleaner streets, larger open public spaces, and what seemed to be large buildings with steam coming out of all sides. ¡°Ugh, is that what I believe it is?¡± Ilunor piped up. ¡°What-¡± I spoke up, only to have Thalmin answer first. ¡°Public bathouses, yes.¡± The real-life Thalmin responded proudly. ¡°I cannot understand how you went through the Nexian reformations without reforming that specific aspect of your culture.¡± ¡°Hey, hygiene was one of the great innovations cited by the reformations, right? Well that¡¯s hygiene right there, public hygiene at that, so why don¡¯t you just reform your own tongue before going off on my people.¡± Thalmin growled in response, prompting the Vunerian to simply shrug as the video continued. Throughout the whole walk, conversations over daily life clued me into how things were run in Havenbrock. With Thalmin more or less giving enough context clues through his back and forths with the guard to address the elephant in the room. ¡°You should¡¯ve remained with your brother, your Grace. It would have been-¡± ¡°Are you suggesting, advising, or ordering me, Sir Rehlin?¡± POV-Thalmin cut her off before she could continue, prompting the red furred wolf to straighten up. ¡°A mere point of question and advisory wisdom, your Grace.¡± The rest of that conversation seemed to devolve into a muted garbled mess, clearly on purpose, given how everything up to this point had been relatively clear so far. However, by the end of it, the guard eventually dipped her head down in acknowledgement of whatever was said. This was just as they both now reached what looked to be a magical elevator, completely circumventing the long winding road that went a good thousand and a half feet up towards the castle. It was clear now why Thalmin had chosen this particular memory to show, as the near-wordless elevator ride through what was effectively a glass elevator made for a spectacular bird¡¯s eye view of the city below. A city that seemingly stretched on for tens of miles. Densely packed pre-industrial urban sprawl carefully separated through the strategic placement of walls, diverted canals, natural rivers, even incorporating natural barriers such as hills, cliff faces, and rocks. Beyond the city walls proper were large, open cultivated fields that extended for farther than the eye could see, before ending in what seemed to be a well kept forest just beyond the distant horizon. The elevator soon stopped, the doors opening to the tune of trumpets and a herald announcing Thalmin¡¯s return. ¡°All bow for the return of Prince Thalmin Havenbrock, Royal Bearer of the Spoils, Keeper of the Writ, Tracker of Traitors, and Royal Emissary for the Nexian Sacrifice.¡± The hologram just as quickly and abruptly came to an end at the foot of this grand castle, what looked to be the cross between the acropolis and a high-walled star-fort. It was undeniably grand, going up a good twenty stories, with conical towers further raising that height by ten more stories. Altogether, the entire castle took up the entire square footage of the plateau, its dark cobblestone exterior and lack of apparent windows giving it an all-too appropriate vibe consistent with the mercenary prince monicker Thalmin held. ¡°Grand, truly grand.¡± Ilunor piped up once again, an annoyance flaring through his nostrils in the form of a few latent flames. ¡°I find this whole show exceedingly distasteful and very much in poor taste.¡± ¡°Okay, seriously Ilunor, what is it now?¡± I finally took the bait, turning to the Vunerian in the same way I¡¯d turn to someone constantly and incessantly nitpicking a good movie. ¡°All that you see here? It doesn¡¯t belong to our mercenary prince¡¯s family. It was taken, stolen from those who had the rightful claim to the throne.¡± ¡°What the hell are you even-¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright, Emma.¡± Thalmin let out an annoyed growl, more towards Ilunor than me, as he abruptly brought the hologram to a stop with a flick of his wrist. ¡°Since this matter seems to be a sore sticking point for a few of us-¡± He glared at the Vunerian for good measure. ¡°-I may have to address it one way or another.¡± He took a breath in, before exhaling just as frustratingly. ¡°I am known as a mercenary Prince for a reason. For what Ilunor says is true - my family were not the original incumbents of the throne of Havenbrock.¡± ¡°He took it.¡± Ilunor added abruptly with a dismissive hiss. ¡°Indeed we did.¡± Thalmin replied unapologetically, as if he was simply stating a fact set in stone with no reservations as to how it was taken by anyone else. This seemed to take Ilunor by surprise, as if he was expecting something of a sheepish or a more remorseful acknowledgement. ¡°You took it.¡± He reiterated harshly. ¡°Yes.¡± Thalmin repeated himself. ¡°We did. We took it all. The throne, the titles, the castle, the cities, and the entire realm.¡± ¡°How can you be so-¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s the truth, Vunerian. We took it all, for it was what we were owed.¡± The Vunerian, in a rare moment of shock, couldn¡¯t find the works to retort with. This prompted the lupinor to continue unabated, as he now expanded on this whole drama with me, filling me in on the context; and at the same time hammering home the point to Ilunor for good measure. ¡°The former ruling family had outstanding debts in the form of unpaid and unsettled balances to the Mercenary Company of DeMott. A company that, owing to the unique laws carried over from prior to the Nexian reformations, placed my land-owning family in equal standing to that of the Entrusted Nobility through what is known as the Writ of the Call to Arms. As such, with debts refusing to be settled between the Royalty to the Nobility, we took it upon ourselves to resolve the outstanding debts on our terms. Requisitioning their royal assets, and placing ourselves in control to rectify this imbalance.¡± Thalmin stated in no uncertain terms, what amounted to a coup. ¡°The standing army of Havenbrock was likewise, up to this point, unpaid for their services. Our first act as the House of Havenbrock was to clear up these debts, and in doing so, emptying the royal coffers to fill the coffers of those owed their dues.¡± ¡°Which makes the so-called mercenary family of Havenbrock the single poorest ruling family in the entirety of the Adjacent Realms.¡± Ilunor spat back with a degree of cockiness. ¡°The wealth of a family means nothing if the coffers of those upholding their rule goes unfilled.¡± Thalmin replied without hesitation, prompting me to finally chime in with a grin on my face. ¡°Thalmin?¡± ¡°Yes, Emma?¡± ¡°I think you and I are going to get along just fine.¡± Thalmin, in response to this, gave me the cockiest smirk imaginable. ¡°I am pleased to hear that, Emma of Earthrealm.¡± A small pause punctuated the air after that, before Thalmin spoke up once again. ¡°Now then, who¡¯s next?¡± Chapter 60: Wings and Scales In a surprising turn of events, Thacea stepped up to the plate almost immediately, turning to the rest of the group with a look of resolve on her face that might¡¯ve actually betrayed a genuine hint of excitement. ¡°I volunteer to be the next on this roster.¡± The avinor¡¯s speaking mannerisms remained largely the same - polite and reserved. Yet similar to her features, she seemed to allow a small sliver of genuine excitement to color her voice as she stood up at about the same time Thalmin began packing away his projector. This gave me and the two guys some room for smalltalk. ¡°So, what did you think?¡± Thalmin began with an expectant grin. ¡°About your realm?¡± Ilunor replied almost immediately. ¡°Yes, Vunerian, what else is there that I could have alluded to?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯ve said my piece.¡± Ilunor responded with a shrug. ¡°An average run-of-the-mill adjacent realm, perhaps even less than average if I were to delve into any critical analysis of what was shown.¡± Thalmin let out a growl at this, which prompted me to add my two cents in before the two could get into another verbal spat. ¡°Well I thought your realm was very impressive, Thalmin.¡± I spoke earnestly, and with a hint of giddiness, as the realization of having just been thrust into a second fantasy realm was really starting to sink in now. ¡°From the walls, to the buildings, and even the streets, everything was just like being transported back in time.¡± I spoke with a palpable wanderlust in my voice. Thalmin¡¯s smile grew for the first half of that, but a questioning glare began forming just as quickly at the latter statement. ¡°Back in time?¡± ¡°Oh, sorry, it¡¯s just, we had similar architectural and city-planning methods as you before things started erm¡­¡± Industrializing? ¡°... changing.¡± I decided on a vaguer descriptor instead. ¡°But erm, yeah! Speaking frankly, it¡¯s impressive to see your infrastructure projects, what with the roads, public spaces like the bathhouse, an actual sewage system, and then some! It¡¯s honestly rather impressive!¡± ¡°Heh. The newrealmer is impressed by the unseen underbelly of civilization it seems?¡± Ilunor interjected snidely. ¡°Well, it¡¯s more like I have an appreciation for what actually makes a city, and a civilization tick, Ilunor.¡± I snapped back just as quickly at his cheap quips. ¡°Not everything is about the most impressive castle or the fanciest of monuments. It¡¯s these more subtle aspects of civilization that truly shows the development of a nation.¡± This seemed to genuinely baffle the Vunerian, as he cocked his head in confusion, as if being faced with an utterly foreign concept. ¡°Public works are not the measure with which I would base my analyses on the impressiveness of a civilization, Booker.¡± He stated plainly, frankly, and in no uncertain terms. ¡°It may come third or fourth in my consideration of that title, but it should be more of an afterthought than a primary aspect of consideration.¡± He eventually shrugged, after parsing the thought in his mind for a few moments. ¡°But what can I expect from the mentality of a commoner. You see the mundane as the grand, and the grand as the mundane¡­ or perhaps the grand is simply too far above you to consider at all.¡± I was just about to put in a few choice words in response to that before Thacea suddenly returned with her sight-seer already almost fully assembled. ¡°I do hope I¡¯m not interrupting anything?¡± Thacea addressed all three of us with a questioning gaze. ¡°No, not at all.¡± Ilunor replied promptly, which prompted me to just sigh in response, before shrugging. ¡°Nothing of value was spoken, and nothing of value was lost as a result.¡± I chimed in with a side-eye directed towards the Vunerian. Thacea, upon reading the room, decided to continue unabated. ¡°Before I commence my sight-seer experience, I would like to note that this particular chapter of my sight-seer was modified to be more of a visual experience, as opposed to Thalmin¡¯s more narrative-driven piece. I must also warn you, that you may experience motion sickness and its accompanying maladies such as dizziness, nausea, and the sort.¡± ¡°And you assume this because you believe all of us to have never experienced flight before?¡± Ilunor abruptly interjected, prompting the avinor princess to nod once in reply. ¡°That is correct, however I did not mean any offense by-¡± ¡°Of course you didn¡¯t.¡± He continued with that same, cocky, shit-eating grin as if excited to explain just exactly how Thacea was in the wrong here. ¡°And I take no offense, of course. For you are correct in assuming that most land dwellers are, of course, bound by their physical limitations. However¡­ the fact of the matter is, I am not like most land-dwellers, Thacea Dilani. For I am a Vunerian of the house of Rularia. As such, you must keep in mind both my draconic heritage, and my personal privileges. The former granting me immunity to the maladies commonly found from a land-dweller experiencing that which was not meant for them - flight. The latter being my inherent experience in riding drakes, for my family owns both the leisurely and combat varietals.¡± Thacea took all of this with stride, simply nodding once at the Vunerian¡¯s long winded explanation, managing to pull the wind out of his sails through what was effectively a simple acknowledgement to a grandiose display of verbiage. I, however, couldn¡¯t help but to let out a long sigh, as I first turned towards the EVI to add a small note to my list of growing ideas. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Make sure we include a few intra-atmo aircraft in the demo, maybe somewhere in the background while we show off the city.¡± ¡°Affirmative, Cadet Booker.¡± Once that was done, I quickly turned towards Ilunor with a cock of my head, all the while directing my speech to Thacea. ¡°No offense taken here as well, Thacea. For I too have had my fair share of experiences in flight. Both civilian and military, in aircraft and in power armor.¡± I spoke in no uncertain terms, prompting the Vunerian to glare at me with a look of someone who¡¯d just been challenged by a perceived lesser opponent. ¡°It is one thing to create flying artifices, Booker. That much I can see through your use of drones. It is, however, another thing entirely to create what you claim are aerial-borne vessels.¡± ¡°Listen, Ilunor. How about we settle this with me just showing it to you when we get to my presentation¡± I answered politely and with an amused smile under my helmet. ¡°For now, let¡¯s just get to Thacea.¡± That little calling-out of Ilunor¡¯s bluff seemed to stir something within both Thacea and Thalmin, as both met each other¡¯s gaze for a moment, only for me to raise a single hand, calling off the argument as abruptly as it began. ¡°The floor is all yours, Thacea.¡± Thacea, with a cautious yet appreciative nod, continued with another wave of her hands; prompting another spike of mana radiation to precede a holographic projection of a sight that I had not at all expected. The world that now consumed our field of view, save for the coffee table that the sight-seer rested on and the couches we sat atop of, was a wooden galley. However, that in and of itself wasn¡¯t the most unexpected part of this whole projection. No, the galley itself looked more than par for the course for your typical medieval-renaissance fantasy faire. What was decidedly not your typical fantasy faire was what was immediately in front of the ship. As the POV of this particular holographic recording wasn¡¯t just staring out at some typical ye olde port with a cathedral or palace tower poking through a sea of low-rise structures. No. What we saw didn¡¯t look like it couldn''t have been built in the renaissance, or any other period in history that popular fantasy had requisitioned for its aesthetics. Because what we saw in front of us now, was undeniably, in every way possible¡­ a city skyline. Hundreds upon hundreds of towers rose above the sheer cliff faces of this island, forming what was in effect a coherent, cohesive, and strangely modern sight that looked absolutely out of place, especially from the vantage point of a wooden galley that looked like it¡¯d been pulled out of the 15th century. I was about to raise a fair few questions about this, if not for the silent POV suddenly getting up from their seat, the whole perspective now turning to a precariously unsecured side of the vessel with not a single handrail, rope, or any sort of barrier existing between the ship¡¯s deck and the open ocean below. The POV avinor paused for a moment, as if considering their next step, before suddenly and without warning launching themselves straight off the side of the ship. Hurling themselves at maximum speed, as fast as their chicken legs could muster, and for a moment losing altitude as they neared the waterline; before leveling out and then ascending straight up. The whole sequence took a total of barely ten or so seconds, but in those ten seconds, I could practically feel my gut churning. Ilunor, however, looked absolutely worse for wear if his dazed eyes and greening cheeks were of any indication. His bluff now falling flat as he all but needed to grip on tight to the plush armrests of his recliner to steady himself. The footage continued regardless of the Vunerian¡¯s condition however, as the video now felt like one of those high-quality nature docs that had a high-res camera strapped to the back of a migratory bird. As the world around us was now nothing but empty sky, and the ship beneath us continued to fade further and further away into the distance, until it was nothing but a small brown blob in the vast canvas of deep azure that was the ocean. These observations however didn¡¯t remain valid for long. As without any warning save for a few high-pitched chirps, came an absolute flurry of colors in the form of an entire flock of birds. As the POV avinor in question joined what was ostensibly an entire air lane¡¯s worth of fellow avinor. Avinors whose colors ranged from bright hot pink, to dull browns and beiges, to more colorful variants of blue, oranges, and reds. The entire flock flew in surprisingly coordinated unison through the clouds, before banking hard to the right, breaking through the cloud layer once more, rapidly approaching their intended destination - the city. However, as we got closer, the finer details of these towers became increasingly more vivid; and with that came several revelations that started to frame this whole city in a more period-accurate light. What were tall, modern skyscrapers from afar, now looked to be more akin to exceptionally elongated and stretched out towers of stone and concrete, with not a single structure containing more than a few panes of glass. And what I¡¯d first assumed to be window frames from afar now revealed themselves to be far, far bigger than that. Clearly intended for something other than just looking out of. As every floor of every building contained what was in effect, some form of a balcony, with a wide open outcropping that could fit a whole avinor with their wings outstretched. These weren¡¯t just decorative or aesthetic elements of design. They were functional, in a way that I¡¯d never thought to imagine before. From balconies to outcroppings to perches and more, these were elements of design that were conducive to the avinor lifestyle. A lifestyle of three dimensions, unbound by the limitations of arms and legs, afforded to them by their gift of flight. This was demonstrated almost immediately as the flock began to disperse upon entering into the city limits, as hundreds of them began their approach to several of the outlying towers at the outskirts of town, using those perches, balconies, and entrances exactly as I¡¯d imagined them to. However, instead of entering any of those shorter buildings, our hologram¡¯s POV began entering into what I could only describe as a lane of traffic. An invisible, non-demarcated series of flight paths that ran parallel and above to the city¡¯s winding streets. Above and below us were distinct, seemingly never-ending lanes¡¯ worth of avinor. Thousands of them commuted in these surprisingly accident-free and well regulated flight corridors, as if everyone instinctively knew the movements of another, as they all made micro adjustments to veer, swerve, shift, or alter their course in order to avoid mid-air collisions with their fellow commuters. This seemingly impossible and endless string of acrobatics continued as our POV flew their way between vast stretches of towers, eventually finding themselves barreling straight towards one. The flight lanes eventually dispersed, leaving only a few brave avinor to do what I¡¯d only seen professional drone operators do for sport. They flew straight through a skyscraper, entering through an admittedly large open balcony, flying through what looked to be a public concourse with a reception counter and concierge, passing by trolleys, couches, shelves, and even a precarious looking vase at one point, before flying out the other side of the building in the span of just a few seconds. Everything felt like a complete blur by this point, but the real piece de resistance was still yet to come. The avinor¡¯s flightpath soon found themselves traveling into a part of the city that grew higher and higher with elevation, until finally, there was a strange, almost eerily empty clearing. A clearing that lasted for a good mile or so, acting as a buffer zone between the rest of the city and what was undoubtedly the seat of power of the whole place. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. A stereotypical fantasy castle, with very little in the way of practical defenses compared to that of Thalmin¡¯s home fortress. It looked as if someone had taken one of those aesthetically-minded ¡®castles¡¯ from the 19th century and simply stretched it out vertically. Creating something that was a cross between the Plaza Hotel from historic NYC, and one of those aforementioned 19th century castles built only for aesthetics in an era way way past the utilitarian age of castles. In fact, it looked eerily similar to that one particular castle that was prominently featured in that latest Civ building game as an ancient wonder¡­ Something starting with an N¡­ ¡°EVI, help me out here. Search the historic databases for a castle in the EF, probably Germany or something. Something starting with an N. Featured recently in that civ game as a wonder. Something that rhymes with Lichtenstein.¡± ¡°Neuschwanstein Castle.¡± The EVI responded blandly, bringing up the exact image of the castle I was looking for. ¡°THAT¡¯S IT! Okay, thanks EVI.¡± ¡°Note: the name does not rhyme with the standard pronunciation of the state of Liechtenstein.¡± ¡°Whatever, EVI, you at least got what I meant.¡± ¡°Soooooo Booker, what do you think?¡± An unfortunately familiar voice came in at the tail end of my back and forth with EVI, gesturing at the holographic projection. I took a few seconds to come up with an answer. ¡°I mean it¡¯s-¡± But by that point, it was too late. ¡°Hah! Awestruck by a slightly above average adjacent realm, are we now, Booker?¡± Ilunor couldn¡¯t help but to butt in with a sly grin. ¡°Not really, no. And erm, I don¡¯t mean any offense by that of course, Thacea.¡± I addressed Thacea first, before shifting back to Ilunor. ¡°In fact, the castle reminded me of a few structures we have back home.¡± Ilunor didn¡¯t quite buy it, narrowing his eyes, and responded accordingly. ¡°I highly doubt that to be the case, newrealmer-¡± I promptly shut him down by grabbing my tablet, flipping it over, and displaying exactly what I¡¯d most recently searched for. The Neuschwanstein Castle. This 19th century feat of engineering seemed to raise some eyebrows in Thalmin, garnering something of a respectable nod from Thacea, but seemed to only garner a shrug from Ilunor. ¡°So you don¡¯t live in mud and stick huts.¡± He spoke unenthusiastically. ¡°What a surprise that the royal family of Earthrealm lives in a grand palace in the middle of the woods. Probably surrounded by the peasantry that took what¡­ a hundred? A thousand years to painstakingly build what we can build in a blink of an eye?¡± He cackled incessantly. ¡°Nobody lives there, Ilunor.¡± I stated plainly. ¡°It¡¯s a historical site from a bygone era. We keep it because of its historic significance, and we keep the area around it wooded for the same reason. Or rather, environmental protection acts but that¡¯s a whole other story. Suffice it to say, that¡¯s not where our leaders reside. But¡­ I guess you¡¯ll see when I get to my realm.¡± I would savor the look on his face when we got to my demo. ¡°Anyways, please do continue Thacea. I¡¯m sorry for derailing your presentation.¡± I quickly added, prompting the princess to nod hesitantly in response, as if trying to gauge and pick apart the minor details of Earth just from that one image alone. ¡°As I was saying, what you¡¯ve just bore witness to was my home city, the capital of Aetheronrealm, the Isle of Towers. What you currently see here is the seat of the Royal family, the High Palace of Dilani.¡± ¡°So that¡¯s where you live?¡± I shot back instinctively. ¡°Yes.¡± Thacea nodded. ¡°More specifically, I spent most of my days confined to the tainted branch here.¡± The hologram projected a series of sparkly borders around one of the towers that jutted out laterally from the castle. I nodded once, silently, not wanting to dig into that matter further. ¡°Apologies if I brought up an awkward talking point, Thacea.¡± I openly apologized. ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Emma.¡± Thacea responded with a polite chirp and just as quickly moved on. The rest of the city was promptly shown across the next thirty minutes, what amounted to a civilization built upon verticality and their gift of flight. Suffice it to say, there were a lot of questions following that demonstration, at least from my end as I began trying to pick apart everything Thacea had just shown us. ¡°So, are all avinor cities like this?¡± I began with an excitable breath. ¡°No, others rely more heavily on their natural surroundings to attain similar ends. With many cities having been carved into natural rock formations, cliff faces, and plateaus.¡± ¡°Then why put all this effort into making the capital an artificial facsimile of what you could¡¯ve more easily done with a cliff face?¡± ¡°The Isle of Towers has its roots in heavy historical legacy, Emma. Moreover, it began from desperation out of a group of avinor trapped from returning to the mainland due to a centuries-long storm. From there, they innovated, learning new magics to facilitate and accelerate means of both production and construction, allowing for the feats of engineering we now see today. Moreover, after the storms cleared, the isle became a hub of commerce as it sat between the flight-paths of the northern and southern migratory routes. Thus, after the Nexian reformation, it was quickly redesignated as the Aetheronrealm capital.¡± I nodded silently all throughout, the EVI taking notes all throughout, and my own mind all but ravenously consuming this new bird-lore. ¡°And-¡± ¡°Are we quite finished with this Aetheronrealm discussion, Booker?¡± Ilunor interjected. Although this time it wasn¡¯t so much just pride talking, as I could visibly see him shaking from excitement. Clearly giddy at the prospects of being next. I craned my head towards Thacea. ¡°Are you alright with continuing this Q and A at another time then, Thacea?¡± The avinor princess nodded once in reply, prompting Ilunor to all but cackle excitedly with a gremlin-esque series of snickers, before running off to his room and bringing back his own sight-seeer. His device was fundamentally different from the pair¡¯s. As unlike Thalmin¡¯s, it looked new, and unlike Thacea¡¯s, it was sleeker, with gold trimmings, silver finishes, and fine polish making it look like something out of a 27th century corpo lord¡¯s modern art gallery. Even the crystals he inserted in seemed to glow brighter, and the iridescent fluid he used to power the whole thing was just that little bit more lustrous. ¡°I hope you¡¯re ready, newrealmer.¡± Ilunor began with a shit-eating grin on his face so wide that for a moment he looked like something straight out of a cartoon. ¡°Because what you are about to see, is the result of the guiding light, the nurturing hand, and the awe-inspiring power of Nexian patronage.¡± The room around us was once more bathed in a white light, which transitioned seamlessly into yet another 3D panoramic experience. However, there was something different about this one. Unlike the previous two¡¯s projections that felt like there was a clearly defined POV, as if the whole thing was recorded from a single camera with all the drawbacks that came with it¡­ this image felt eerily stable. It was as if we¡¯d immediately jumped from a senior-high film project, to something of genuinely decent quality coming out of a legacy film house. The stabilized image I was met with was that of a vast expansive valley, one flanked on all sides by hilly terrain, with a seemingly endless expanse of mountainous peaks that crested in the background every which way we looked. ¡°The trail of victory.¡± Ilunor began his unique brand of narration, contrasting Thalmin¡¯s more rustic approach to his presentation, and Thacea¡¯s minimalistic approach to hers. ¡°The path of heroes. The road of success. Many names have been given to this long winding stretch of road. A pilgrimage that many a lesser-Vunerian, and those of partial draconic heritage must trek at least once in their small lives.¡± His words were somehow reverberating throughout the valley now, as if there was some sort of a sound projection system that had manifested around us. ¡°Though the names for it are many, and much of them are quite warranted, none come close to the name which I believe best suits the epic nature of that which is my home.¡± The scenery that surrounded us slowly, but surely, accelerated. Traveling down winding and twisting paths, until suddenly, it simply became a straight, uncompromising road. Paved, fenced, and well maintained for even industrial era standards, looking like something hailing from the age of concrete and asphalt, at around the dawn of paracrete and unisphalt. The roads continued ever onwards, becoming more ambitious with its infrastructure projects as it crossed streams, rivers, lakes, and eventually¡­ entire canyons and valleys. Bridge after bridge was crossed, each one grander and more elaborate than the next. With boring beam bridges eclipsed by arch bridges, then by suspension, then truss, then cantilever bridges, and so on and so forth. It was as if the Vunerian was trying to also demonstrate the superiority of his realm¡¯s infrastructure; perhaps prompted by my earlier remarks on that very topic. And to be honest¡­ it showed, with many works of engineering looking as if they¡¯d been pulled right out of early-modernity. This eventually culminated in a series of ambitious tunnels that ran straight through mountain after mountain, giving Norway a run for its money in the tunneling business. These tunnels weren¡¯t the bare stone type either, with each tunnel being entirely encased in a white seamless material, shiny, and similar to marble. After about ten whole minutes of this fast-forwarded journey, which I imagine would¡¯ve taken days if not weeks to accomplish by horseback and foot respectively, we finally arrived at an unusually large clearing. A large flat space, at the foot of several mountains. However, as the ¡®camera¡¯ panned up, higher and higher still, our eyeballs forced to scale the sheer cliff-face that was the mountain, we suddenly reached a point where the mountain just¡­ abruptly stopped. About halfway up the tapering conical formation, where the midsection of the mountain should have been, was nothing. Several double takes were taken by the whole gang, including myself, as we looked around us, staring at the other mountains that at first seemed normal, but upon closer inspection¡­ had suffered the exact same fate. All around us, were about seven mountains cleaved halfway up to their summits. A cut that looked so clean that it felt as if there was a graphical error, a bad glitch in the system, or some passable photo-doctoring going on. ¡°For I call it, the grand carpet to the throne at the foot of the heavens. A lengthy name, but I believe you will come to understand exactly why I believe that name to be most fitting.¡± None of us responded, each of us transfixed in our own way as the video resumed its hastened pace, traveling closer and closer still until several oddities started becoming apparent. First, was the presence of thousands upon thousands of small outcroppings in the base of the mountain. Which, upon closer inspection, were open-air terraces. Terraces which housed entire air wings¡¯ worth of drakes, all lined up, and sitting as if ready for action at a moment¡¯s notice. More details quickly became apparent as we abruptly scaled up the mountain, rising through a small layer of clouds to confirm what was hinted at from the foot of the mountain. A perfectly flat surface at the midsection of a mountain, a result of a clean cut. But what was on that flat surface however, was what was truly remarkable. An entire city, a multi-tiered city that was divided not with walls, but with height itself. As what was a flat surface from first glance soon turned out to be a tiered landscape fashioned after a layer-cake. With each city layer separated by a good solid hundred or so feet of rock that went uncompromisingly up at a straight angle, repeating itself about ten distinct times, with each perfectly round and concentric layer becoming smaller and smaller with each change in elevation; before arriving at a large, grandiose, over-the-top castle that stood proudly at its peak. The whole city looked sort of like the city of Omushu from Vatara: The Final Wind Shifter. ¡°My home, my dear peers.¡± Ilunor announced proudly, allowing the video to continue on its own now, as we zipped straight through each of the layers of the city, going from the outermost layer that rivaled even Thalmin¡¯s best developed areas in terms of its build quality and general aesthetics, through each of the layers that became increasingly more developed, more intricate in its designs, and sparser in its population. Most of the structures here were constructed out of a similar material to the paths that were paved between them - a pure-white stone that glistened in the sunlight. Open and public spaces were surprisingly abundant, as were literal magma pits surrounded by some sort of a wooded park that seemed entirely impervious to the heat permeating around them. ¡°How-¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked, newrealmer.¡± Ilunor responded with a smarmy smile. ¡°For you see, this was all the work of a single person. A gift, a monument, a practical military act, and a message all in one. All courtesy of his Eternal Majesty himself. Oh I¡¯m sure we will touch upon it plenty in our history classes, but I would be remiss if I did not share a generous glimpse.¡± Ilunor continued, his speech interrupted by the occasional manic bout of pride-filled laughter. ¡°This entire mountain range was once home to the seven great dragon clans of the past. And my people¡­ were once all but unwitting servants to said clans. Bound to instincts¡­ until the light of civilization opened their eyes. The elves in their infinite wisdom, and my immediate ancestors in their dissatisfaction with such a menial existence, decided to civilize the entirety of the region. We united to topple our draconic overlords, slaughtered them all, and in an act of brilliant strategic decision making, we decided to all but destroy the lairs with which these dragons once believed to be impregnable¡­ by carving open the mountains themselves!¡± He announced with glee. ¡°From there, the elves gifted us the former draconic lands, granting us stewardship over the entire region. We built our cities above where their lairs once stood, as a testament to our victory, of the triumph of civilization over animal savagery. Afterwhich, no longer were we known as mere kobolds¡ª the elves elevating our race, imbuing my ancestors who fought alongside them with the gift of magic, creating Vunerian-kind.¡± My whole world all but shattered at that point, as what was in essence just a whole wall of lore completely rewrote everything I had initially assumed about the Vunerian. I turned to the pair first, gauging their reactions. Their faces said it all however. Or at least, Thalmin¡¯s did. Thacea remained unphased as was expected. ¡°But-¡± ¡°Oh, please maintain that shock and awe newrealmer, allow me to show you my home before we end this little tour.¡± Ilunor spoke cockily once more, descending down and towards one of the upper ringed tiers, just a few tiers shy of the palace that sat above the rest of the city. There, I saw an expansive mansion that would¡¯ve put Versailles to shame. With a wide open lawn complete with a hedge maze and several magical artifacts keeping the maze itself constantly moving. Its architecture was gaudy too, with elements of baroque infused with high-gothic, all in the form factor of a corpo boss¡¯ preference for size over practicality. ¡°So, newrealmer¡­ what do you think? I doubt there¡¯s anything in your newrealm that can match the grandeur of a crownlands-affiliate Nexian realm, even with that acceptably mediocre castle you just showed.¡± I let out a sigh, turning towards Ilunor with a tired look in my eyes as I just about was ready to drop the bombshell on him. A proverbial one of course, as this wasn¡¯t a game of war, but a game of political might through a game of boastful displays. Thankfully, this was modern humanity we were talking about. So even a tour of my hometown as it were should be enough to settle things. ¡°Have you dictated a course of action, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Yeah, so, major themes I¡¯m seeing here are home, hometown, city, urban development, as well as everything else more or less in between those topics that I can¡¯t come up with right now.¡± ¡°Affirmative Cadet Booker. Query: By hometown, do you wish to bring up your heritage town, or the Acela Megacity?¡± ¡°Why not both?¡± I responded earnestly. ¡°Both would honestly be good. Have them see the smallest of the small scale communities, then bump it up to the one of the largest cities on Earth. Should be fun right?¡± ¡°Affirmative. Loading stated parameters now.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to have to politely allow my presentation to speak for itself, Ilunor. So let¡¯s head on over to my room. I¡¯m afraid my sight-seer requires a bit more space so let¡¯s get going.¡± Chapter 61: Welcome to Earth Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 17:35 Hours. Thacea A Kingdom of fire and steel. A Dominion of manaless sorcery. An Empire that claims the void beyond. To say that I was curious about the demonstration ahead would be a disservice to the word and the concept it purported to represent. To describe my current state as anything but excited, would be akin to describing the newrealmer as anything but exceptional. For what lies in store for a people that should not exist? What sights should be expected from a civilization that should not have surpassed the age of flame and muddied brick? Could a sight, any sight for that matter, live up to the exceedingly high bar set by their seemingly antithetical nature? Alluded to by carefully chosen, yet fundamentally incongruent descriptors of an impossible world? Perhaps not. Or perhaps, there was still something yet to be said for the element of the unknown. For if I were to ask myself frankly: ¡®just how different can a realm truly be?¡¯ I need only look to the alien and foreign structures that have become fixtures within a space not meant for their existence. Moreover, I need only look at Emma¡¯s newfound efforts at constructing what appeared to be a ring of steel with glass pillars, connected via the snake-like umbilicals to that loud humming box which gave life to these reality-defying constructs. If this was her sight seer? Then it proved one thing about her realm that has been consistent all throughout our interactions. Their dedication to overcoming that which should have been their functional limitations, by circumventing the natural order itself, to brute force into existence principles that should not be possible without mana.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 17:40 Hours. Thalmin The unexpected. That¡¯s what the newrealmer embodied. For with each passing moment came even more challenges to the worldview I thought was infallible. Part of me was undeniably excited, jovial, utterly ecstatic at what the newrealmer had hinted, teased, and alluded to over the past five days. Yet another part of me was terrified of what was in store. But this wasn¡¯t necessarily a fear of the unknown, nor was it a fear of raw power. It was more so a fear of the decisions I would have to make, and the relationships I would either have to strengthen or strain, should Thacea¡¯s assumptions over Emma¡¯s realm turn out to be true. For what was being proposed wasn¡¯t just a realm amongst adjacent realms, but a realm above the rest. Part of me wished to embrace the disruption of the status quo that would inevitably follow from this. But the fear that came with it was undeniable. Especially as I stared into the impossibly dark abyss of the curtains the newrealmer was putting up. With the help of a third arm.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 17:45 Hours. Ilunor ¡°WHAT IN HIS MAJESTY¡¯S NAME IS THAT?!¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to shout in utter disgust. As a wave of nauseating unease filled my form. What had started out as a prolonged exercise in patience as the newrealmer began assembling her mana-less sight-seer, had suddenly evolved into a demonstration of body horror of unimaginable proportions. I felt an overwhelming urge to express my fear and disgust following the sudden and unprompted eruption of a third limb from the newrelmer¡¯s back, revealing an arm with far too many joints, ending in far too articulate claws; like a malformed dire strider emerging from its host. But I would not give in to my base fears. This was all a standard ploy, to weaken my mental constitution, and thus leave me open to suggestion when her tricks came to play. ¡°Oh, crap, erm. I apologize guys. I should¡¯ve told you about this earlier.¡± The newrealmer chuckled, reaching her normal arm up towards her back where this abomination of an appendage had originated from. Like a spider or some such abominable creature, it continued moving about on its own, divorced from her torso¡¯s movements, as it began aiding in the construction of what was ostensibly a darkened tent around this circular metal construct. ¡°It¡¯s just my ARMS.¡± The earthrealmer spoke in this sing-song, lackadaisical, almost sarcastic tone of voice. As if she was amused by the whole affair. ¡°In all seriousness, that¡¯s just short for Augmented Remote Manipulator System, technical-speak for what amounts to just an extra ¡®artificed¡¯ arm that¡¯s meant to aid me in these tricky aspects of assembly that would otherwise require two or more helping hands.¡± I glared at the newrealmer for the longest while, expressing my discontent through my silence as I hrmphd out in disgust. ¡°If your realm follows a similar trend to your naming conventions, namely, a gross overuse of descriptors with nothing to show for it¡­ then I¡¯d say all of your efforts in assembling this abomination of a sight-seer has been an exercise in futility.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t hold your breath Ilunor, you might just end up purple.¡± The newrealmer shot back with not a hint of frustration but instead amusement. What exactly she has to be amused about is beyond me. For if that castle earlier was of any indication, I expect at best a realm of well played actors, playing the facade of a middling realm with one or two clever novel tricks. So whilst mud and sticks they might not be. Deific crownlands they surely aren¡¯t.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 17:45 Hours. Emma The prep time was the most annoying thing about this. And it wasn¡¯t because it was hard or anything. The EVI was doing most of the work with the precise calibrations and calculations needed to make this overcomplicated lightshow work. The holo-projector was an older model, one that was Aggre-Printer friendly, where every one of its components could be printed off of a MS Class IX printer. Which meant that its operation was both reliable, but also annoying to someone born in the last two hundred years after the advent of static-holos. For the ZNK-19 was a blast from that past, requiring a track of rail that took up the circumference of about a third of our bedroom, five light-emitting arrays that would go around and around on the aforementioned track, and a black-out tent to maximize its contrast and thus its visual and auditory effect. The projection started very differently to that of the rest of the gang¡¯s similarly fantastical methods of holographic projection. As unlike their seemingly organic means of morphing the world around to fit the content of their recordings, the human method very much embraced the artificiality behind the fundamental mechanisms of its operation. For as the gang stepped foot inside of the borders of the holoprojector, several things began happening almost immediately. First, were the optical trackers, as a hundred little tiny cameras dotted across the ¡®arms¡¯ of the projector began assessing each independent viewing angle for each and every one of the audience members present; all in an attempt to account for every possible line of sight, to best anticipate and run the complex numbers necessary to maintain the illusion of being plopped into a 3D space. Second, were the various light-emitting arrays, as each of the arms began their first, second, third, and fourth consecutive diagnostic runs independent of one another. The lights created something of a disco-like effect before finally, they began ¡®meshing¡¯ the different grids they projected into overlapping overlays, forming clean lines, and vector graphics so smooth that the ground itself looked like a white void at certain angles. Third, came the mechanical operation of each of the array¡¯s ¡®mounts¡¯. As each of the ¡®arms¡¯ began revving up, their actuators flexed and waved around in practiced motions across all planes and axes on seven different fully-mobile joints, before finally, they stopped. Fourth, and finally, came the tracked operation. As the ¡®arms¡¯ of the projector began spinning within the track laid out for them. Finishing one complete lap within the circle in about a minute, then increasing that rate to about half a minute, then a quarter, a tenth, until finally, the arms were barely anything more than a complete blur as they spun around us at dizzying speeds. ¡°Newrealmer, if you were planning to trap us in an artifice of death, then I applaud your fortitude in lulling us into a false sense of security prior.¡± ¡°Relax, Ilunor. This won¡¯t kill you. Besides, even if you accidentally step out, which I warned you about before, we have safety measures in place.¡± I reached out my hand towards the perimeter of the track, but just before it would¡¯ve made contact with the spinning arms of doom, they abruptly stopped in their tracks. Quite literally in fact, as the whole process once more reverted back to step three, with each of the arms once more warming up in-place. Convinced, or perhaps still having accepted his fate, Ilunor simply replied with a huff, prompting me to restart phase four, as the arms began revving up to full speed once more. Picking up where we left off, the grid-like projections that had formerly been confined to the floor were now elevated into three dimensional space, forming what looked to be scanlines on and around us, slicing up the empty space between us into grids. These grids began rapidly segmenting into ever-smaller chunks that would¡¯ve given the voxel-gaming community a run for their money. Eventually, they reached such a fine level of segmentation that distinct shapes began to be projected around us. Starting first with your titular white-gray void of a starter room consisting of nothing but a featureless expanse, before rapidly developing finer and finer details. A horizon line was first established, followed by both the skybox and ground following suit. This was rapidly followed up now by the formerly dark space now being entirely encased in a fully immersive experience, just short of that of a proper VR headset. As what was now projected around the gang were the familiar surroundings of a place that I¡¯d barely visited following my move to Acela. A place that I should¡¯ve mentally prepared for at first, but that I¡¯d jumped head first into without truly grappling with the repercussion of its likeness being brought face to face with me. ¡°Valley Hill.¡± I announced in one part excitement, tempered by one part darkened grief as I stared at these near-perfect replicas of my hometown with weary eyes. ¡°Or more accurately, the Heritage town of Valley Hill.¡± I continued, as we were thrust into what was in effect the outskirts of the town. The EVI clearly had taken inspiration from the former three¡¯s presentations, as it mimicked how each of their sight-seers had all started off at the outskirts before moving slowly inwards into their respective towns. All four of us stood on the raised service road flanking the main motorway connecting the town to the rest of the transcontinental motorway network. There, we were immediately greeted to a sight that most of the planet¡¯s population, alongside most of the spacer population for that matter, had all made the effort of seeing at least once in their lives. Untouched greenery. Or what was ostensibly the closest thing you could get to it following the Environmental Monitoring and Control Acts of 2595. Yet despite its serenity and seeming wild nature, elements of its closely monitored and regulated existence was seen even from the roadside, as evidenced by two parallel composalite dividers that ran all the way along the motorway. Beyond that, several more bridges were seen connecting the two halves of the forest together. This seemingly nonsensical infrastructure project soon made its purpose clear the further the scene moved forward, as what at first looked to be a bridge connecting nothing but forest, proved to be exactly just that. As what lay on top of it wasn¡¯t your standard rail, motor, or lev-way, but a patch of contiguous forest floor. ¡°Does¡­ does Earthrealm not know that you are not supposed to elevate the ground beneath your feet onto the bridges you build?¡± Ilunor chided with a dry and amused chuckle. This prompted me to answer truthfully, and without any hyperbole. ¡°Yes, as you will soon see. However, this bridge isn¡¯t meant for people nor the transportation of goods.¡± ¡°Then what is it for, newrealmer?¡± The Vunerian practically chortled out. ¡°Animal life.¡± ¡­ ¡°What?¡± ¡°Some of our infrastructure projects necessitate solutions to the problems we create. Problems which while not relevant to us in any way, we deemed to be our moral imperative to solve, seeing as it was our actions that created the disruption in the first place. In this case, the motorway you see here effectively slices this forest in half. This necessitates us creating alternative paths to connect the two disparate halves of the forest together.¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°You talk as if the animals couldn¡¯t simply walk across your overly large road, newrealmer.¡± ¡°Well, they can¡¯t.¡± I pointed to the two transparent barriers flanking the road. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous for them to cross.¡± Ilunor, owing to his next point, made an effort to move onto the open road itself. ¡°And pray tell why exactly would it be dangerous for an animal to cross-¡± ¡°EVI, traffic simulation.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± NNYYOOOOOOOOOM! Ilunor, and the entire group for that matter, began performing double takes as they looked up and down the road from our position on the service corridor just a few feet beside it. ¡°W-what¡­ what was-¡± NYYOOOOOOM! FWOOOSH! ZOOOOOOOM! But he couldn¡¯t even gain his bearings as he hopped this way and that, avoiding oncoming traffic like a chicken that¡¯d found its way onto the road, as more and more vehicles began zipping across the motorway. Almost all of them were passenger vehicles. Almost all of them were privately leased or owned. As given the breadth and depth of public cargo logistics infrastructure, as well as mass transit, that left these roads more or less open for a very particular group of people. Automotive enthusiasts who loved the ¡®freedom¡¯ of the open motorways. And the occasional short-haul motor-hauler. The latter of which was approaching¡­ now. HONK! HONK! HOOOOOOOOOOONK! This latter hologram, owing to Ilunor having decided to hop right onto the road, slammed right into him. ¡°AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!¡± Before passing right through him like a ghost. ¡°Calm down Ilunor, it¡¯s just a hologram.¡± That near death experience left the Vunerian shaking, and the fear in the Vunerian¡¯s eyes was utterly palpable as a result. ¡°This is why it¡¯s dangerous for animals to cross.¡± I surmised succinctly, without adding much in the way of any open jabs as Thacea was the first to turn towards me with wide and concerned eyes. ¡°Those¡­ are those some sort of manaless vehicles, Emma?¡± ¡°Vehicles?!¡± Thalmin interjected with a perplexed huff. ¡°All I saw were streaks of color!¡± ¡°I¡¯m assuming Avinor eyesight can actually make out objects traveling at high speeds like that?¡± I offered, prompting Thacea to nod and thus bringing a close to Thalmin¡¯s line of questioning. ¡°Indeed we do. And what I saw were not simply streaks of color, but what amounted to these¡­ beast-less wagons¡­ large in the midsection, tapered towards the front and back, with what seemed to be blackened spheres of some sort at their bottom-¡± ¡°EVI, pause.¡± The whole world came to a screeching halt. ¡°Pull up an NAMC Victory IX. Tenth gen re-release. Four-door. No sunroof.¡± ¡°Color?¡± ¡°Red. Wait no, black. Wait. Erm¡­ White. Should be easier on the eyes.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± All of the cars on the road suddenly disappeared, replaced instead by a timeless classic of a vehicle that had been the pride and joy of automotive enthusiasts and casual drivers alike for the better half of a millennia. In many ways, it was what one would imagine when they thought of a protypical car. A midsized sedan. Four doors. Reasonable trunk space. And a commitment to combining the best of early automotive design with modern sensibilities. As sleek rounded lines complemented the sharp angular geometry of the windows and lights, an imposing silhouette that looked as sleek as it was tastefully imposing, cementing the mid-millenium aesthetic as a mainstay regardless of how many new fads came and went. ¡°These roads aren¡¯t for horses and buggies, or wagons and¡­ whatever else requires a beast of burden to pull. In fact, animal-drawn vehicles have been more or less gone from my world for a good thousand years already. For our thirst for progress and our desire for expansion was simply incompatible with the limitations of organically-driven vehicles. They were too slow, too inefficient, too burdensome, and simply couldn¡¯t keep up with our wants and needs. So we innovated. We designed vehicles that could power themselves without the need of beasts of burden. We created engines that ran on a variety of power sources, that breathed life into what would otherwise be hunks of lifeless metal. This allowed us to cross the length of towns, cities, counties, states, and entire continents in a matter of days.¡± The three went silent for a few moments, their eyes drawn to the impeccable work of Dr. Park and his magnum opus of design theory and mathematics. ¡°And these are¡­ personal transports I presume?¡± Thacea spoke up first, breaking the silence that had descended on the group. ¡°Correct.¡± I answered with a nod. ¡°How can you power these beastless carriages without mana?¡± Thalmin quickly spoke up next. ¡°Well¡­ early on we burned the compressed remains of dead plant and animal matter, which sometimes included dragons, to create mechanical energy to push the wheels of our cars to get them going.¡± This seemed to bother Ilunor to no end but I quickly moved on without even acknowledging it. ¡°After that we used a variety of things, but eventually we landed on storing electrical energy instead of burning things to create mechanical energy.¡± The vague explanation seemed to generate an even greater sense of intrigue in their collective gazes, as Thalmin continued pressing the matter forward. ¡°Beastless carriages¡­ are not unknown to us.¡± He began. ¡°But most if not all are relegated to the Nexian crownlands.¡± Like Lord Lartia¡¯s stretched carriage¡­ ¡°With that being said, with so many on this road¡­ I cannot imagine Earthrealm possessing this great of a number of nobility to both maintain these public works, and possess ownership of so many vehicles.¡± ¡°Oh, erm¡­ we¡¯ll get to that. But suffice it to say. These vehicles aren¡¯t exclusive to the nobility. Nor the rich. In fact, it¡¯s an everyman possession.¡± ¡°... You mean to say commoners possess ownership of these manaless horseless carriages?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°Nonsense.¡± Ilunor finally chimed in once more, having regained his composure enough to glare right into my soul. ¡°Now, let us for a moment entertain the ridiculous notion that a commoner has access to such a vehicle¡­ what purpose would they need for it?¡± This question caught me completely off guard, not because it was a gotcha moment, but moreso because the answer seemed blatantly obvious. ¡°To¡­ travel?¡± I offered with a questioning shrug. ¡°But why would a typical commoner need to leave the confines of their hometown, village, or city?¡± Ilunor elaborated. Prompting me to stare at him with an open expression of genuine confusion no doubt blocked by my helmet. ¡°Because they want to? For business? For study? For work? To visit friends and family? I mean, I get it if you¡¯re a proponent of mass public transportation, we do have that, and indeed most people use that. That¡¯s why the roads are so uncongested by the way, otherwise we¡¯d be seeing endless traffic jams from coast to coast.¡± Ilunor didn¡¯t immediately respond to that. As we both stared at each other with the exact same look of genuine confusion. ¡°Most commoners cannot do that. Or rather, they simply do not have the means. Nor would their lords deem it necessary.¡± Ilunor announced plainly. It was at that point that it finally clicked in my head. Fundamental Systemic Incongruency didn¡¯t just hit Ilunor, but me as well. The concept went both ways after all, and after finally getting it through my head, I let out a sigh, placing a single palm on my helmet. ¡°Well, simply put, Ilunor¡­ we are a nation of commoners.¡± This took Ilunor by even more surprise, as he looked at me with even greater disbelief, which I didn¡¯t think at this point would¡¯ve even been possible. His silent shock prompted me to simply continue. ¡°And because of that, because we are beholden to no highborn ruler, we choose not to elevate any one man or one group¡¯s holdings, but our collective whole. Hence the massive public works devoted to the needs of the people rather than the personal whims of a few.¡± Ilunor¡¯s silent shock continued, which once more prompted me to let out an exasperated breath. ¡°Anyways, if you have questions about our politics, I¡¯ll more than be happy to answer your questions later. For now, maybe showing you around town will get you a better idea of what Earth is actually like.¡± With no further interruptions, I pressed onward, the world around us zipping by across the service corridor until we were met with a bright and cheery sign that read:
WELCOME TO VALLEY HILL! WHERE MASS-AGRI AND COTTAGE-IND MEET! FOUNDED - 2039 PUBLIC HERITAGE INCORPORATION EST. 2522. HOLDER OF THE LOVELIEST HERITAGE TOWN PLAQUE FOR 3 CONSECUTIVE DECADES 2723 - 2753. POPULATION: 37,937
We continued traveling forwards down the winding roads, exiting off a ramp and into the town limits. Where we first encountered what appeared to be a mix between vast open and expansive fields of automated open-farms, and what at first appeared to be large warehouses, but upon closer inspection, were multi-story behemoths of glass containing within them crops much more varied than what existed outside. ¡°Where are the farmhands?¡± Thalmin noted, pointing at the distinct lack of any workers present, merely machinery that seemed to float in distinct patterns up and around the fields. ¡°Those are the farmhands.¡± I pointed at the drones, the roaming operator-less vehicles, and the vast tracts of mechatronics that lined and divided up the rows of land into more manageable auto-friendly plots. ¡°A-artifices?¡± The lupinor prince replied with a questioning tone of voice. ¡°You refuse to employ serfs and peasants, instead relying on more mana-intensive artifices?¡± ¡°Well, one, we don¡¯t use mana. And two, at this point in time, it¡¯s much more efficient to rely on these artifices. As all farming is done using these laser-precise systems, whilst the farmers themselves operate things from behind screens of spreadsheets and live-monitoring feeds, to maximize both yield and quality.¡± ¡°What you¡¯re describing sounds less like a class of farmers and more like a mix of scribes and scholars, Emma.¡± ¡°Well¡­ I guess that¡¯s weirdly accurate, and honestly, that¡¯s an interesting way to sum up how most of our primary and secondary industries operate nowadays.¡± I replied with a nod, prompting even more questions to form behind the mercenary prince¡¯s eyes as we finally arrived within the town¡¯s outer limits. Low-rise developments dominated the outside of the town, with many of the buildings harkening back to early mid millennium aesthetics that valued brick facades and rustic pavement as opposed to the cleaner, sleeker, contemporary aesthetics of the cities. We passed by storefronts with their wares proudly on display, small businesses specializing in an incredible variety of mouthwatering food that certainly caught Thalmin¡¯s attention. Moving deeper into the town, we were treated to the larger public buildings. First encountering the primary and secondary schools that took up a good chunk of the town¡¯s land area, rising up ten or so stories above the rest of the buildings around them. ¡°What is that, Emma?¡± Thalmin promptly asked, practically glued to the sights with his eyes glowing wide with attention. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s Willerson¡¯s.¡± I pointed at the primary school. ¡°And that over there is Rovsing¡¯s.¡± Pointing further towards the larger secondary school across the road. ¡°They¡¯re the main schools in town.¡± ¡°They seem to be quite large for trade and guild vocational schools, Emma.¡± Thacea observed. ¡°I think that just speaks to the quality of the commoner trades, or the emphasis their nobility places on ensuring their commoners are well educated in their fields.¡± Thalmin offered with a confident smile. ¡°Oh erm, they¡¯re not¡­ they¡¯re not vocational schools.¡± I quickly corrected. ¡°They¡¯re primary and secondary schools.¡± This answer seemed to completely overshoot each of their heads. ¡°Erm, they¡¯re schools for children starting from the age of like 5, all the way to 18.¡± ¡°No wonder you¡¯re so loyal to your lieges, Emma¡­ they trained you from practically birth it seems.¡± Ilunor commented with a snarky remark, prompting me to quickly shoot his point down. ¡°It¡¯s general education for the most part is what I¡¯m trying to say. These aren¡¯t schools to put you in a trade, and thus they¡¯re not schools for young adults. These are schools for kids, to give them the basic foundational education necessary for them to pursue more advanced careers following their enrollment in tertiary education.¡± All three turned to one another with questioning glances, as Thacea took the charge to voice their questions. ¡°And these schools are for¡­ commoners?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I replied with an exasperated breath. ¡°Public education is mandatory for everyone. Primary, secondary, tertiary, this is what¡¯s necessary for a highly educated workforce to maintain the society we¡¯ve created.¡± ¡°A society of scholars?¡± Thalmin offered with a quizzical cock of his head. ¡°A society that allows for anyone to be whatever they want to be, Thalmin. It¡¯s just that most of the workforce requires quite a fair bit of education before they start out.¡± I shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s a lot to learn and a lot to know, things are complex in my world as you¡¯re about to see.¡± The group went silent once more, as we pressed even deeper into town. After passing by post offices, health clinics, some commercial offices, and other nondescript government structures, we eventually came across the town hall and its accompanying clocktower. The tower itself went up a good fifteen or so stories, with the townhall taking up a good third of that height. In front of it, was a meticulously crafted and maintained public park, which completed this small jaunt into heritage town americana. ¡°And that¡¯s your seat of government?¡± Ilunor broke the silence first, practically deriding the seven century old structure with a series of tsks. ¡°Local seat of government yeah.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°As to be expected.¡± Ilunor derided once more. ¡°Look¡­¡± I turned to the rest of the group. ¡°I sort of just wanted to show you my home, like you guys did. So I thought this would be a good way to ease you into my world considering I was just taking after your guys¡¯ example.¡± I turned to the holographic projection, which began moving further down and out of town, towards a series of houses in a relatively spaced out neighborhood. There, we came across my old home. Once more, a brief pang of pain-ridden nostalgia hit me. But overall, I maintained my composure as I gestured towards the humble two-story, one-attic, one-basement abode. ¡°And well, here¡¯s home. Or rather, what was my home.¡± ¡°How are you able to afford such accommodations?¡± Thalmin brought up once more, cocking his head. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean no offense by this, Emma. But the only commoners that could afford such a finely crafted and well-built brick and mortar structure, complete with this many windows, and such vibrant colors, would be quite well off, if not minor lords in their own right.¡± ¡°Oh, no, my parents were pretty average people by every possible metric in my world.¡± I shrugged. ¡°This house is not unlike others here, like¡­ most people in town have something similar to this. Otherwise they¡¯d be living in the apartments on main street.¡± This seemed to perplex Thalmin to no end as he ended up cocking his head, prompting Ilunor to once more chime in with a bored yawn. ¡°Yes, yes. Very impressive. A fine display of well-kept mediocrity.¡± He gestured around him. ¡°Your capital has indeed exceeded my expectations, newrealmer. It most certainly is not a collection of stick cabins and mud huts. However, you should¡¯ve known better than to even have tried to show off your realm, especially as you have already seen the extent and grandeur of our realms. Because if this is supposed to impress me, then I must say you have undershot your mark and overestimated your realm¡¯s station.¡± It was at this point that I let out a long drawn out sigh, as I stared at Ilunor with a pair of two tired eyes. ¡°No, Ilunor, this was not an attempt to impress you.¡± I paused, before bringing my fingers up, and snapping them soon after. The EVI added the appropriate sound effects for the snap, coinciding it with the change in our surroundings as the world around us disappeared in a sudden flash, reassembling itself soon after in the form of a passenger rail car that zipped its way across the vast expanses of nature that surrounded us. From there, I gestured for the gang to look out of the bubble-like glass canopy, which provided an unparalleled view behind, around, and ahead of the locomotive. A locomotive which was headed straight towards one of the largest megacities on Earth, and my second hometown. Acela. ¡°This is.¡± Chapter 62: Monolithic Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Holo-tent. Thacea A veritable sea of light. As far as the eye could see. A luminous horizon whose brilliance was obstructed only by crowded blades of grass; with jagged edges and sharpened tips as numerous, as dense, as varied, and as chaotic as the spread of wild wheat in the abandoned fields of Yorn. Confusion quickly set in, followed closely by gross disorientation, as I struggled and failed and struggled again to make sense of it all. Before finally, my conscious mind gradually caught up to the realities my eyes bore witness to, and a gut-wrenching realization began consuming my heart whole. As the longer I stared out of this glass enclosure, the more I was able to focus on each individual ¡®blade¡¯ of ¡®grass¡¯. Though I would be remiss if I maintained the pretense of humoring those frankly, naive misnomers; purposefully chosen by a mind that waged a futile battle between the world being presented to it and the reality it thought it knew. A mind that only sought to protect itself from that which was otherwise impossible. A reality that should not exist. A reality that advocated for a manaless city of fantastical wonders. A city of towering monoliths. For how was the reasonable mind supposed to come to terms with the existence of a city as dense in unfathomably towering constructs as a weedseed field at harvest? Artificial constructs tall enough to be seen from a distance, large enough to obstruct the horizon, and most distressingly of all¡­ numerous enough to be mistaken as but an element of the landscape itself. Simply put, a mind could not. At least, not without a gradual buildup of doubt and inferential evidence, courtesy of an entire week¡¯s worth of the reality defying antics of a newrealmer. This left my mind with little choice but to concede. And for a regrettably familiar feeling to begin gnawing at the fibers of my very being. For as we crossed expanse upon expanse of well-kept greenery, soaring just shy of the forest¡¯s canopy within this glass and metal tube, I couldn¡¯t help but to remember that same reality shattering week that all but broke my worldview. A week of humiliation, of social browbeating, of being thrust into a similarly alien world; save for the lack of care and personability of this particular demonstration. A week that left me with a feeling of complete and utter¡­ Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Holo-tent. Thalmin ¡­Smallness. That¡¯s the best way I could describe the feelings of my place at present. For the closer and closer we got, the easier it was for me to see what lay in front of us. And it wasn¡¯t a castle or fortress, nor was it a city or town. It was a temple. A church. A monument constructed to light itself. A construct larger in scale and caliber than anything I¡¯d ever seen or even imagined of. I¡¯d never felt so small before. At least, that¡¯s what I wished to believe. For there were but two instances in my life I remembered feeling anywhere close to this small, this insignificant, this¡­ impotent in the face of overwhelming odds. And both instances were born out of the Ritual of Fealty, and the brief glimpse we were provided of the heartlands of the Nexus itself. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Holo-tent. Ilunor No. No. No. No. No. NO! How could she have known? She could not have known. It is impossible for her to have known. And yet, what was straight in front of us, no, in front of our sights via the aid of this manaless sight seer¡­ was undeniably¡­ almost undoubtedly¡­ A bastardized facsimile of the Crownlands. A place so sanctified that even Nexian natives, and those races sanctified by His Eternal Majesty himself, must wait patiently for entry. A place that the newrealmer could not have known about. And thus could not have drawn from for inspiration. So how could I explain the sight that stood before me? Logic now dictated that there remained one sole option. That it was genuinely what it was purported to be¡­ an accurate visual record of the world the newrealmer hails from. Which should not have been possible. For what was being shown was far, far beyond the capabilities of any adjacent realm, or even those realms outside of the Nexian crownlands. Tentatively placing this newrealm on a similar enough standing to the crownlands. Which again, was impossible. So perhaps there was a third option? An option that was nominally questionable, far-fetched, and unlikely. But when set against the backdrop of impossibility, the far-fetched and unlikely suddenly became the most probable. Rultalia¡¯s rule truly did apply in this instance. As I calmed my internal turmoil, and accepted the improbable justification - that all that I saw was the work of nothing more than a truly brilliant, truly gifted artist. Everything, from the manaless carriage, to the ridiculous nature-bridges, were most certainly the creation of an unhinged mind. A mind unburdened by the limitations of reality. Which would explain everything. And lend credence to the Earthrealmer¡¯s eccentric personality. For perhaps they were a race of actors. Living out fantasies, and at times, managing to turn fantasies into tangible reality from ramshackled, unorthodox methods born out of their mana-less forms. For if a race were truly deficient in mana¡­ I could only imagine just how far they would go to overcome it through denial, through fantasy, and through limited successes of bringing those fantasies to life in unwieldy ways. That conclusion, and that train of thought, was promptly interrupted by the likes of the mercenary prince, whose wide eyes and bewildered expressions clued me into his gullible state of mind. ¡°Emma, what is this?¡± ¡°Like I said¡­¡± Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Holo-tent. Emma ¡°... this is my second hometown.¡± I announced gleefully, gesturing towards the ever encroaching spires of composalite and paracrete. ¡°There are many names for it, something to be expected from a legacy stretching over a millennium. But accounting for the time period since incorporation the few names that have truly stuck around have been: The City of Dreams, The Sleepless City, The City So Big They Named it By Committee, and my favorite¡­ The Empire City, or well, the Capital of the World is another one that has a nice ring to it. Ultimately though, there¡¯s one name we all thankfully agreed upon. One that bothered no one for it appeased no one. No one, except for rail enthusiasts perhaps.¡± The train quickly passed by a sign you¡¯d be hard-pressed to read at its typical speeds, but since it was all a simulation, this allowed me some artistic license in slowing the whole thing down momentarily for that extra umf of dramatic flair.
WELCOME TO ACELA THE NORTHEAST MEGALOPOLIS THE FIRST INCORPORATED MEGACITY IN THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE HOME OF THE LARGEST SKYSCRAPER HERITAGE ZONE BIRTHPLACE OF SUSTAINABLE URBAN LIVING POPULATION: 500,203,127 GLIDE SAFE, THE ACELA WAY!
Maybe I should pursue a career in the movie industry after this¡­ ¡°Acela. Or more officially, the Megacity of Acela.¡± I spoke giddily through a barely contained grin, before gesturing at the rapidly approaching city. ¡°The town you saw earlier was an anomaly. I intentionally started off with it for two major reasons. One, I wanted to be honest, and to try my best to match the vibe you guys were going for. And since you were showing off your home towns well¡­ I decided that I might as well start off with the first place I call home. So, given I was born and raised in Valley Hill, I felt it would¡¯ve been disingenuous to start off at Acela. Two, I wanted you to see all sides of Earth. And whilst not an exhaustive sample size, I think the difference in scale is necessary to give a more accurate impression of what things are actually like. For Earth is neither an ecumenopolis nor is it a solar-movement¡¯s paradise. It¡¯s both. For there¡¯s a little bit of everything for everyone on Earth. Whether it''s small heritage towns, or solartown communities, or even entire heritage cities, or as you¡¯re about to see, Megalopoli; there¡¯s a lifestyle for everyone. Unity in Diversity, as my government likes to say. It just so happens that with the sheer population of these places¡­¡± I gestured at the city in front of us. ¡°...that most of Earth¡¯s population trends towards hyper-urbanity, rather than urban or rural as you saw earlier with Valley Hill.¡± The whole group stared at me in silence, Thacea with a look of complete and utter stoicism, Thalmin with a maw that couldn¡¯t have hung lower if his jaw was unhinged, and Ilunor¡­ with a decidedly unrecognizable look of complete and utter neutrality. As if he was lost somewhere in the annals of his own mind. This silence continued for a few more seconds, as I assumed everyone was taking their time in digesting every last bit of information. It was around the same time that I decided it was time to start decompressing everyone, prepping them for the actual boots-on-ground tourist-certified experience of inner Acela, starting them off in the heritage district, before going neck-deep into the Starscraper Districts the megacity was known for. ¡°EVI, dim the canopy and windows.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± The tourist traincar suddenly went dark, isolated now from the rapidly approaching city, forcing the three to focus inwards towards one another, and most notably, me. ¡°Right, I know this is a lot to take in.¡± I began earnestly. ¡°But that¡¯s why I¡¯d like you to talk to me now before we get deep into the thick of things. Is there anything you¡¯d like me to clarify before-¡± ¡°That sign.¡± Thalmin began, his voice filled with the slightest hint of nervousness. ¡°There must have been some mistranslation into High Nexian. Your hometown read thirty-something thousand. But this city reads five hundred million.¡± Thalmin huskily exclaimed under a hushed breath. ¡°Surely you must have prefaced it with far too many zeros. Surely this is perhaps a sign designating the population of an entire realm, perhaps a region.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± I started by trailing off, raising a finger in my defense. ¡°First off, the sign was right. There are indeed five hundred or so million people living in Acela proper. But secondly, you¡¯re also kinda right with the whole region thing. This whole city was once just a distinct geographic region, a collection of towns and cities, hence one of the names for it being the North-Eastern Megalopolis. However, that disparate era didn¡¯t last for long. As infrastructure development and public works eventually tied the region''s already geographically-clustered cities into an ever-growing, ever-biggering, cohesive entity. In time, the whole region became so navigable, and new urban development grew so extensive, that city lines and town boundaries started mattering less; as a new unified identity started to take hold. And in a story as old as time, with insatiable thirst that was human expansion, a new type of city was established. One not just contained to a region, but was the region itself. With the world entering a new era of hyper-urban development, delineating the early-contemporary era of disparate cities, and that of the dawn of modern hyper-urban development.¡± ¡°A region¡­ a city¡­¡± Ilunor mumbled out to himself, his eyes glued to the glass canopy. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying Emma¡­¡± Thacea continued, taking off where Thalmin left off. ¡°... is that this is a form of social organization, masquerading as a city, that contains all the settlements within an entire region of a continent?¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Well, legally yes. But functionally, it¡¯s one and the same.¡± This prompted Thalmin to cock his head, his perky ears flopping as he did so. ¡°The region it encompasses is now a city. Whilst the density waxes and wanes as you go through the various districts and internal subdivisions, every square inch of it is developed, and almost every square mile of fresh dirt barring public parks, has not seen the light of day in the past half a millennium. Covered instead under successive layers of paracrete and unisphalt, and more than likely replaced entirely by composalite penetrating into the bedrock itself. Indeed, some parts of the city are so extensively built that every layer of soil has been dug out and replaced by safer and more reliable contemporary materials.¡± ¡°So you paved¡­ an entire region in paving stone and formament?¡± Thalmin replied in disbelief. ¡°Is formament some viscous puddy-like liquidy stone that sets into shape when you let it dry?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Ilunor, surprisingly, replied with a bewildered expression. ¡°How did you-¡± ¡°We have it. A mana-less equivalent. But I digress.¡± I quickly moved on, focusing my attention squarely on the lupinor. ¡°That is correct.¡± ¡°Formament isn¡¯t magical in and of itself, Emma. It¡¯s just that it requires extensive mana-based methods to produce.¡± The lupinor stood there stunned, taken aback, but only for a little while. As he was back to full curiosity-derived strength with yet another big question. ¡°However, that¡¯s beside the point¡­ you claim to have replaced the dirt itself with these¡­ composalites?¡± ¡°Well yes. Sometimes, dirt just isn¡¯t strong enough. And you can only drive pylons deep into the bedrock so many times. It¡¯s better that we started from scratch in some places with more advanced development.¡± ¡°How¡­ how can the ground beneath your feet be insufficient to the needs of your construction?¡± ¡°Because we build big.¡± I stated in no uncertain terms. ¡°And sometimes, our lofty ambitions and limitless aspirations surpass what the ground beneath our feet can sustain. Forcing us instead to augment or replace it entirely, to facilitate our visions to become a reality.¡± I paused, before turning to the EVI for a quote that fit this matter perfectly. ¡°In the words of the great 23rd century philosopher, architect, and civil engineer, Professor Dr. Leonard Cohen: ¡®We have always been creatures of creativity. It is thus inevitable that in the pursuit of limitless creativity, we defy that which is natural, test the limits of that which is possible, and eventually, bend reality itself to our will for the aims of human creation.¡¯¡± I paused, realizing that I¡¯d maybe overdone it a bit, so I backtracked with a nervous laugh. ¡°But hey, I¡¯m not a materials scientist or an engineer. That¡¯s just what I heard in class.¡± I shrugged to the face of a dazed lupinor, and the vacant stare of a huffy Vunerian, prompting Thacea to quickly slip into the conversation once more; redirecting it towards the pertinent points at hand. ¡°So what you¡¯re describing here Emma, is a supposed urban core, that spans the area of an entire region?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± Another wave of silence smacked the group with the force of a truck. Yet just like the first wave, this didn¡¯t last long, as Thalmin¡¯s awestruck nervousness soon gave way to curiosity, albeit a restrained curiosity tempered with a layer of alarm. ¡°Will we get to see these endless urban cores? Or these supposed works of creativity that demand the removal of the earth itself?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I announced a matter of factly. ¡°In fact I can show you what we need to put underneath those works of creativity. Clearing out the dirt provides full flexibility for the implementation of sub-surface infrastructure that more or less acts as the arteries and veins that carries with it the city¡¯s lifeblood.¡± With those final few words, which only seemed to serve to pique the curiosity and concern within the likes of Thalmin and Thacea, I moved to face the traincar¡¯s door. Only to be interrupted by an unprompted ping from the EVI. A small glowing exclamation point bordered by cyan identifying its intent as mission-sensitive, objective-pertinent, and just like the case with the impromptu spy mission in the dean¡¯s office, a point of advisory that I was urged to take. ¡°Suggestion, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Yes, EVI?¡± I acknowledged, knowing well that I was potentially opening up the floodgates to a hundred different points of conflict, error, or whatever the little electronic virtual intelligence had in store for the graphics-intensive and processor-challenging simulation that was the city. ¡°Disable entity spawn. Set human entity count to [zero] for the purposes of this demonstration. As mission commander, do you approve of this proposal?¡± To say I was thrown off by this being brought up, let alone as a point of suggestion no less, would¡¯ve been putting it lightly. The fact it¡¯d come completely out of left field pointed me down a diagnostics flowchart that I definitely did not want to get into. But maybe I wouldn¡¯t need to, as my reflexive response would take me down a completely different path altogether. ¡°Why?¡± I asked, before shifting directions as soon as that word left my mouth. ¡°Identify, clarify, and expand on root causative values.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. In categorical order of significance: A. Paradigm shift in diplomatic dialogue, with calculable but as-of-yet indeterminable potential for the disruption of established, ongoing, and potential future diplomatic engagements. B. Information Dissemination Overflow Value projected to exceed maximal threshold, leading to an inverse proportional relationship between further information dissemination and [persuasion value]. C. Factors A and B will lead to the increased likelihood of failure of the current objective of this exercise - the dissemination of humanity¡¯s objective capabilities, and the invalidation of [Thacea, Thalmin, Ilunor¡¯s] false presumptions of humanity¡¯s perceived inferiority.¡± I had to take a moment to consider everything the EVI had just said. ¡°All of that¡­ caused by a simple face reveal?¡± ¡°As per current calculations considering new datasets, correct.¡± ¡°Okay, why though-¡± It suddenly hit me. ¡°The superficial likeness between the [Elven] species, and that of humans, Cadet Booker.¡± It suddenly made sense. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is, this will be the straw that breaks the camel¡¯s back? You''re basically saying that revealing ourselves to be¡­ and I hate to say this, discount elves, will be too much for the gang to handle?¡± ¡°... in a manner of speaking, yes, Cadet Booker. Moreover, unlike any element in this demonstration that can be broken down into their fundamental components, humanity¡¯s evolutionary trajectory is a fundamentally different matter entirely; potentially conflicting with fundamental axiomatic beliefs of the origin of the [Elven] species. In addition, there is a so-called knock on effect that may likewise follow.¡± ¡°Point A I¡¯m assuming?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m of the firm opinion and belief that revealing what we look like underneath the suit will lead to an increase in trust values. Besides, being stuck as a faceless suit of armor is doing nothing for empathy points to beings that aren¡¯t Sorecar.¡± ¡°Affirmative. Those are valid points as per SIOP instruction manual Section 2, Chapter 3, Pages 22-25. However, these points are only valid so long as Complicating Disruptive Variables are not encountered, as stated in SIOP Advanced Response Theory Section 2, Chapter 5.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve calculated the human-elf similarity curve to be significant enough to count as a CDV, messing up the math and baseline assumptions and rules.¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re forcing me down the action flowchart right now.¡± ¡°Correction, I am merely providing my analysis of the situation as it stands. As mission commander, you are free to overrule my observations.¡± ¡°Can I see the math?¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± A massive document worthy of an academic dissertation suddenly landed in front of my eyes, prompting me to realize that asking a VI for its proof of work was probably not the best idea. Not if I wanted to get this decision made in less than a month. ¡°Alright. Fine. But I think we can reach a compromise here. Showing them an empty city will detract from it. It might even start sowing seeds of doubt into their minds that any of this is real. We need people to fill it, that¡¯s literally what makes a city a city, and it¡¯s what¡¯ll provide them a sense of scale. So I suggest I meet you halfway here. Just plop down unrendered NPCs, give them a bit of a shadowy texture and bam, you have your IDOV-friendly human models.¡± This solution, like with my suggestions that fixed the spy drone¡¯s pathfinding dilemma, clearly took the EVI by surprise as it took a solid second to parse the idea. ¡°Affirmative, Cadet Booker. This is an acceptable solution.¡± ¡°Good.¡± ¡°Addenum, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°I have calculated that [Ilunor] will be the most prone to Information Dissemination Overflow, and is projected to begin expressing points of denial some time during the demonstration of Acela.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that. Let¡¯s see how well your predictions stack up. Because I¡¯m about to explode now with excitement. Open the doors, EVI. Let¡¯s give them a show.¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± ¡°I guess it¡¯s easier for them to grapple with the face of humanity¡¯s achievements, than it is for them to grapple with the face of humanity itself.¡± I spoke silently to myself, as the train car doors opened. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± I announced with a nervous giddiness to the nervously awaiting group, coinciding perfectly with those three distinct ¡®beep beep beeps!¡¯ that officially announced our arrival into the heart of the city proper. ¡°GRAND CENTRAL STATION. PLEASE MIND THE GAP BETWEEN THE TRAIN AND PLATFORM.¡± ¡°Welcome guys, to the heart of the NYC Old Quarter. The hub of mass transit for the past millennium. Grand Central Station.¡± We left the train to the sight of a large and open terminal, the painstakingly maintained old tile and granite floors glistened underneath the lamps above. Lamps which were painstakingly refitted after a century of being lost with the Great Refurbishment Scandal of 2579. Everything from this point onwards seemed to elicit only a few head tilts from the gang, as each of them stood nervously whilst the ground beneath us shifted at a comfortable walking pace, taking its time as the perspective shifted from the terminal to the large grand concourse proper. The likes of which had been meticulously maintained and shared a special and distinct dual-role as both a working terminal, and a heritage museum. ¡°Grand Central is one of the oldest rail terminals here not just in Acela, or the NYC old quarter, but in the entirety of North America. It¡¯s what we call a working heritage site, similar to the entire town of Hill Valley, this place is far too historic to develop or modify from its original spec, yet too vital and intrinsic as part of the local community to retire to a full museum-status. So it sits somewhere in between. Locked in time, yet preserved in function, as part of the Living Histories initiative started about a half millennium ago.¡± We walked through the main concourse with little in the way of much talk between the gang, as they all seemed fixated not on the meticulously crafted murals, or the carefully etched friezes, or even the art-deco revivalist elevators that led to the additional ten floors of elevated terminals above grand central itself added in the latter half of the 21st century, but on the seemingly typical volume of early morning pedestrian traffic. Pedestrians which, at the behest of my back and forths with the EVI, were reduced to intentionally under-rendered shadowy silhouettes. Though adding to that, the EVI seemed to have given the silhouettes a bit more character than I thought it would, dressing them up in seasonally appropriate clothes. ¡°Emma.¡± Thalmin started up first. There it was. The question. The doubts. EVI¡¯s little gambit falling apart at the seams. ¡°Is¡­ is there some sort of a festival happening?¡± Wait, what? ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ the volume of people here. In what is effectively a concourse for the nobility I presume?¡± He gestured at the old clock, the murals, the friezes, and every other classical greeble present. ¡°I cannot imagine that there would be this many in the ranks of nobility present without a need to be present.¡± ¡°So¡­ you aren¡¯t bothered by the silhouettes-?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m assuming that there are some limitations to your sight-seer. There has to be, and I¡¯m assuming this is finally one of them.¡± Ilunor spoke with a hint of exasperation, as if trying to find anything at all to detract from. ¡°That is my presumption as well, Emma.¡± Thalmin added promptly. ¡°Er, yeah. That¡¯s one of the limitations I¡¯m facing right now. So I¡¯m glad you¡¯re okay with it.¡± I spoke sheepishly, before turning to face the lupinor¡¯s initial question. ¡°So erm, to answer your question - no, there isn¡¯t a festival going on. This is the typical passenger foot traffic you can expect in the main concourse in the early hours of the morning.¡± It was this fact instead that clearly didn¡¯t sit well with Thalmin, as he began walking around our little designated circle, inspecting each silhouette as they walked right through him like ghosts. His eyes were fixated not on just their numbers, but something else about them. As he looked at everyone, from the office workers to the uniformed civil servants to even police officers and the more eclectic crowd of period-specific outfitters. ¡°You have this many in your nobility? Is this the passageway to the grand hall of your Monarch or-¡± ¡°Wait, hold on, I think we¡¯ve hit some miscommunication here.¡± I interrupted the lupinor before he could continue. ¡°There are no nobles here.¡± I spoke plainly. ¡°No nobles¡­¡± Thalmin muttered to himself openly. ¡°So¡­ this is a gathering spot for the wealthy amongst your commoner ranks then, I presume?¡± The lupinor prince attempted to rationalize things once more, his tone of voice indicating just how much he was struggling with just this slice of Acela alone. ¡°Not necessarily.¡± I replied succinctly. ¡°There is nothing special about this location that warrants exclusivity by virtue of monetary or material wealth.¡± The lupinor prince eyed me down with an increasing level of scrutiny, the skepticism apparent not just on his face but with his increasingly leery tone of voice. ¡°I find that hard to believe, Emma. For if you claim a lack of exclusivity with this space, how then would you explain these superfluous displays of wealth on almost every person present?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± I asked with genuine confusion, cocking my head as I did so. ¡°Their clothes, Emma.¡± ¡°Yeah? What about our clothes?¡± ¡°They¡¯re too¡­ clean for the typical commoner. Far too well-kept. With colors used without consideration to their prohibitively costly and socially restrictive nature. In addition, the expert craftsmanship on display is much too¡­ universally consistent.¡± Thalmin explained, prompting me to finally get where he was coming from. ¡°Furthermore.¡± He continued, gesturing at the concourse itself. ¡°This¡­ space¡­ is built as if it was a reception hall for a noble lord. Its size, grandeur, and well appointed status is several leagues above the typical tavern or transit lodge for those commoners with the means to travel. I don¡¯t understand how this could not be reserved for the nobility, or at least the wealthy amongst the common folk.¡± ¡°Alright. I can see where you¡¯re coming from here, Thalmin.¡± I began. ¡°But as I said before, we¡¯re a nation of commoners. First off, the clothes. Those are just¡­ typical for us. People from every walk of life have both the means and the ability to purchase clothes of virtually any type. In fact, it¡¯s a fundamental right. What you see here is typical amongst our people, the product of an economy with the capacity to make such things trivially accessible to everyone. Secondly, this place, and many other places like it that have been built since then, was meant to serve the needs of the people. The people who have a stake in the way we¡¯re all treated and governed. It¡¯s in the interests of those in charge, from those appointed, to those we elect - to facilitate our way of life. A way of life with standards which continue to increase with each passing year as per our centennial and millennium development goals. Goals which not only include the practical and utilitarian aspects of life like those roads or the train we just arrived on. But also extends to the less obvious aspects of human development such as emotional and mental fulfillment. What you see around you now is perhaps one of the oldest testaments to that. As it¡¯s a means of fulfilling not just the utilitarian need for transport, but the intangible fulfillment of the human need for the aesthetic and the artistic.¡± Thacea¡¯s expressions finally shifted at this, her eyes saying it all. As the constant look of stoicism broke to something softer within. Ilunor however, seemed to have taken the opposite direction to the avinor¡¯s mental processing. ¡°Commoners¡­ have no need nor place for the fulfillment of the aesthetic and the artistic.¡± Ilunor proclaimed through a dry, crackly breath. ¡°We all do though, Ilunor.¡± Thalmin interjected sharply. ¡°It¡¯s just that the means to achieve that is different depending on your social station.¡± ¡°I think¡­ maybe stepping outside will grant you a better picture of what I mean.¡± I announced as I decided it was just about time to move the simulation forward, finally reaching those large doors that gave way to the outside world. ¡°Welcome to Acela, or more specifically, the cultural heart of it; the NYC old quarter.¡± I opened those doors to reveal a world of towering constructs. Most, if not all of them a millennium old, as towers of granite and stone facades stood side by side simplified modern towers of glass and steel. This twilight period between the dawn and the day lit up the ground just enough that everything was easily visible, yet was dark enough that the towers remained lit up, so much so that we could see the entire cityscape surrounding us lit up in a dizzying sparkling display of brilliance. As Thacea, Thalmin, and Ilunor, began turning around in circles, staring at the seemingly infinite sea of skyscrapers that all but consumed their sightlines in every possible direction. A true concrete jungle. And just like a jungle, ¡®vines¡¯ and ¡®branches¡¯ likewise erupted from every possible corner, all emerging from the terminal nexus that was Grand Central Station, criss crossing, ducking, and weaving between the towers that now surrounded us. The three stared out at the city with wide open eyes, with expressions that ranged from shock, to disbelief, to shock again. Silence once more descended on the three, interrupted only by the ambient sounds of city life as the hum of the rails, the ever-present chatter of the crowds, and the ring ring ring of bicycle bells did nothing to pull the three from their respective trances. It took a whole minute before any one of them responded, and it was Thalmin who broke the silence first. As he spoke slowly, methodically, with his eyes still glued to the cityscape around us. ¡°This is a city built for the nobility, filled with monuments befitting of royalty, yet all who live in this opulence... are commoners.¡± ¡°Actually Thalmin¡­ about that¡­¡± Chapter 63: The Impossible City ¡°I think there¡¯s something I need to clear up before we move on.¡± I started with a purposeful, careful, diplomatic tone of voice. ¡°Yes, Emma?¡± Thalmin replied with a cock of his head. ¡°I¡¯m only using the term commoner because I think that it¡¯s, at best, an analogous term that is able to somewhat bridge the gap between our two cultures. However, I don¡¯t think it really gets to the heart of how fundamentally different our two societies are structured. For in my world, the delineation between noble, peasant, commoner, and the sort simply does not exist - legally, functionally, and practically speaking.¡± I began with a firm statement that seemed to be as nearly as reality shattering as everything else around Thalmin at this point. ¡°The way things work today, necessitates a society that relies not on the decisions of those with the capacity for mana manipulation, the access to generational wealth, or the birthright to rule, but on the quantitative abilities and responsibilities of the individual. Thus, every individual is¡­ for lack of a better term, perhaps more akin to a noble in their own right. As every individual is responsible for the fundamental operation of our government, and integral in the practical operation of our society and its economy.¡± This explanation hung in the air, punctuated by several more ring ring rings of the fleets of cyclists and scooterists on the streets in front of us, and the long drawn-out electrical hum of the elevated tracks above us. Thalmin¡¯s facial features did not betray his inner turmoil, but his eyes certainly did. As they ranged in emotions from shock to concern, and at one point, something I could almost mistake as a look of fear. Before ending up with what could only be described as a reluctant look of awareness; culminating in a single, wordless, nod of his head. This was followed closely by Ilunor¡¯s smoke-ridden huffs, and as expected, Thacea¡¯s signature stoic yet deeply concerned gaze. All three stared at me with varying levels of suspicion, which I attempted to placate with a polite and drawn out sigh. ¡°I can address this matter after we are finished with the tour. I know it¡¯s a lot to take in, but if you recall from the helmet cam footage I showed you earlier, it was something that was already touched upon during the confrontation with Mal¡¯tory. So you can understand that I am not lying. I wouldn¡¯t have just ruined my perceived legitimacy in my argument with him just to flex a lie. Still, it¡¯s one thing to just talk the talk. I need to show you I can walk the walk as well, and I have just the things lined up to show you.¡± This seemed to raise a few brows with the whole group, prompting Thalmin in particular to look on at me with a renewed sense of engagement. As if acknowledging the perceived loftiness of my statements, then following it up with my promise to uphold the burden of truth, was enough to get him back on board. Thalmin was, after all, a man who seemed to prefer action to back up words. ¡°If you guys are, of course, still alright with me continuing?¡± I could¡¯ve just continued. But establishing their willingness to progress was important. If SIOP had taught me anything, it¡¯s that Fundamental Systemic Incongruency required a constant back and forth between both parties. Which also meant these periodic checks before moving to more complex topics was vital. Just like how a good teacher would check with a class before moving on to mind-numbing math principle number 394. ¡°Of course. That¡¯s what we¡¯re here for, right?¡± Thalmin spoke with a nervous laugh. Followed up closely by a polite chirp from Thacea. ¡°Indeed. Please feel free to proceed, Emma.¡± Two nods of varying levels of apprehension soon followed, with only Thalmin and Thacea actually voicing their acknowledgement. This left Ilunor with just a faint shrug, lending the EVI¡¯s warnings even more credence. Time would tell if the deluxe kobold would actually hit that Information Dissemination Overflow threshold. But until then, I carried on, prompting the EVI to move the projection along as we left the heart of the old quarter slowly at the pace of a brisk walk. Things progressed quickly as we did so. As we walked down streets that would¡¯ve been remarkably familiar to those who¡¯d walked the same sidewalks five, seven, maybe even nine centuries ago. For despite the replacement and augmentation of a few lesser iconic 20th century structures during the latter half of the 21st, most of the skyline would have still been recognizable to those from its early history. Indeed, it was around this point that each of the gang¡¯s focus seemed to shift and diverge, as Thacea¡¯s eyes were trained squarely towards the skies, whilst Thalmin¡¯s gaze was fixated on the going ons at ground level. Neither party was going to be missing out with their chosen fixations, as the skies above buzzed with the same degree of activity as the busy streets below. Indeed, the aerially-inclined amongst our group was going through a certain degree of sensory overload as a result. As Thacea¡¯s pupils darted back and forth between the different lanes of drones, all criss crossing above and between the buildings, moving in perfect unison like cars traveling on an invisible track of rail. It didn¡¯t take me long to realize that a direct and eerie comparison could be drawn between the stacked droneways of Acela and that of the avinor capital¡¯s skyways. However instead of sapient people-sized birds dominating the airways, it was quad-blades and ornithopters carrying modular suitcase-sized containers; albeit with similarly colorful plumages (or in this case, artwork) adorning their sides. Many of them proudly boasting locally-drawn pieces of artwork advertising local businesses. However, it was clear that alone wasn¡¯t the avinor¡¯s sole focus, as her gaze was constantly drawn back to the more permanent fixtures of the skyline - the skyscrapers themselves. ¡°Emma.¡± Thacea began with a tentative breath. ¡°Forgive me for being so forward, but I must ask: your people are flightless, correct?¡± ¡°Yup, that¡¯s correct. Hence why you don¡¯t see any of us performing the cool aerial acrobatics you guys were showing off in that sight-seer tour of yours.¡± I managed out with a wide smile and an encouraging tone of voice still brimming with excitement from this whole cultural exchange. That little compliment seemed to take Thacea off guard, as I could just about make out a look of abashment, followed milliseconds later by the same tempered but anxious expression returning shortly thereafter. ¡°Thank you, Emma. Flattery aside, this leads me to a question. Considering your flightless predisposition, what purpose does the verticality of your city serve?¡± I¡­ paused at that question. Actually paused as it prompted me to actively reflect. This hit me as hard as one of those Cross Cultural Information Dissemination Exercises SIOP handed me weekly. The instructors always stressed that answers to these sorts of questions should preferably include not just the plain and objective answer, but should also serve as a vehicle for cultural dissemination, to bridge the gap. And what better way to do that than with the skyscraper. A testament of human ingenuity, prosperity, and culture. Everything led me to one, simple conclusion. A conclusion that at its core, felt so fundamentally human. ¡°Habitation, community, productivity, and the facilitation of a way of life we¡¯ve become accustomed to - an urban life.¡± ¡°But why?¡± Ilunor suddenly asked through a strained breath. ¡°Why the need to go so high up?¡± ¡°Because we wanted to, Ilunor.¡± I answered definitively, and without an air of doubt to be had between each and every word. ¡°Because we want to live in close proximity to services, to amenities, to our work and to the beating heart of civilization. Because as human beings, we¡¯re drawn to the prospect of advancement. It¡¯s in our very core, an inherent desire to want to be at the center of it all. This pull is so strong that this was how the first cities were created, out of necessity for the consolidation of skilled labor to better share in cooperation. However as time went on, this cooperative nature necessitated out of our manaless predispositions, pushed us to specialize in increasingly niche fields, and in doing so pushed us to entrench ourselves in increasingly tight-knit cooperative communities. We¡¯re drawn to cities because we¡¯re social beings, and we build these skyscrapers because we all want to be in the same place at the same time. This results in the expansion of the city outwards, but also, upwards. For to be at the heart of it all, ten, twenty, fifty stories isn¡¯t enough to fulfill the housing needs of every human being. We needed more, we wanted more, and so we decided to commit to that vision. However, there¡¯s another element to this. One that I mentioned just a few moments ago. We humans have a desire to express ourselves through our creative endeavors. It¡¯s in our very soul. These buildings aren¡¯t just utilitarian blocks of composalite and glass, they¡¯re works of art and culture, a medium of expression unto themselves; the zeitgeist of a generation immortalized in construction. Moreover, we humans have an innate desire to cement our legacy into this world of ever shifting chaos. We build ourselves monuments in the form of our buildings and cities, as a bulwark of stability against an ever shifting natural world. In short, we built them because we could, because we wanted to, to serve the purposes of housing, of work, of entertainment and leisure, and as canvases for our art and culture.¡± A long pause punctuated that speech, as the EVI seemed to have taken it upon itself to arrive at a particular stretch of street that practically boasted this frame of mind. It was a street that went straight through the heart of Manhattan, giving one unparalleled views of skyscrapers towering above from both sides of the converted road, leading up towards the historic cluster of the Empire State, Chrysler and other assortment of art deco icons, before finally revealing an ominous, foreboding, almost otherworldly presence of something just beyond those 20th century marvels. Towering, looming, but not actively encroaching on these monuments of the old world. For the direct line of sight on a good clear day revealed a monolithic behemoth that shared dominance with two more of its brethren, the trio of starscrapers which has for centuries now acted as the backdrop to this iconic vantage point in old town Manhattan. The three towers were arranged in such a way that it almost seemed to frame the old quarter, like guardians of the old world. Yet at the same time, they were not shy about embracing their own identity, belonging to an age of unparalleled scale and prosperity, built to solve problems intrinsic to their own time. They served as a constant reminder of progress, yet with clear deference to the past from which they arose from. As despite their immense height, they did not seek to actively compete for attention. Their towering presence accomplished that already. Instead, their art deco revivalist facades, their tapered geometrical rise to the top, their deliberate choice of design elements hearkening back to the old quarter which they loomed over, served to hammer home their commitment of having one foot in the past with the other firmly planted in the future. Thacea¡¯s eyes all but glistened at the sight. Her eyes locked onto the monoliths in the horizon, and her stoic visage straining to maintain its regal veneer. No words were uttered around this point, as I allowed the gang to take in the sights for as long as they needed to. ¡°As flightless, manaless beings, we always dreamed of reaching for the skies.¡± I eventually broke the silence. ¡°So once we attained that, we next dreamed about scraping the stars themselves. And so with great effort, we eventually accomplished that too.¡± Ilunor was the first to side eye me at that comment, but to his credit, he refused to elaborate further aside from a soot-ridden hurmf. It was Thalmin that properly broke the silence, as the look of doubt in his eyes didn¡¯t necessarily grow, but remained steady and unbroken. ¡°I want to believe you Emma.¡± He started off. ¡°But I find it increasingly difficult to imagine anyone, commoner or noble alike, actually living in this museum of monuments.¡± It was then that something clicked within me. And it wasn¡¯t so much that each of the three had varying levels of their own suspensions of disbelief. Moreso, it was the approach of familiarity that mattered. By starting off with oldtown Manhattan, Thacea was able to see all of the varying structures leading up to the starscrapers. She understood intrinsically the flow of progression given her vertically minded headspace. Thalmin, on the other hand, required a different approach. And if his words didn¡¯t already convey it, then his sight-seer tour still fresh in my mind certainly did. He needed to see things from ground level, as he¡¯d done with his trek through his city. I¡¯d need to replicate that too if I were to stand a chance at not pushing him over the IDOV threshold. ¡°Then I¡¯ll show you, Thalmin.¡± I announced politely, gleefully even. As the projection promptly shifted from that scenic, touristy view, back towards the subdivided city blocks and the streets that meandered through them. Silhouetted and darkened figures walked the small meandering streets that carved straight through what were formerly impassable blocks, opening up the way to more street-level amenities and services that catered to the pedestrian. Indeed, aside from the increased density, nothing at the ground level had truly changed that much. The small businesses and legacy storefronts remained as they have for centuries, albeit with a few tweaks to their product lineup and menus. The larger upscale retail stores whilst having swapped brands, leases, and allegiances over the centuries largely followed the same pattern, having for the most part maintained the same pedestrian-facing stores. Brick and mortar facades stood alongside iconic brownstones, with the occasional glass and white-steel breaking up the pure oldtown aesthetic, the latter having themselves become historic by virtue of their age despite not looking the part. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Everything was recognizable, save for of course the absence of a few of the eyesores that had momentarily become synonymous with the NYC pedestrian experience¡ª the eternal sidewalk scaffolding. That unfortunate aspect of old NYC heritage had been left behind for the better. But the changes didn¡¯t stop there. As taking after the global Tidy Cities Initiative of the 25th century, possible only with the advent of cheap and plentiful centralized and partially autonomous robotic labor, the streets were absolutely spotless. You¡¯d be hard-pressed to find a stray piece of gum, let alone a random bag of trash, or even a pile of autumn leaves present for longer than a few minutes before one of the cleanerbot swarms came around to dispose of it. Thalmin seemed to take note of this, at everything in fact, as he began the expected gauntlet of questions. ¡°So, Emma.¡± ¡°Yes, Thalmin?¡± ¡°With so many people, how is it that your streets remain clean?¡± ¡°Oh, let me show you.¡± I paused the simulation in place, materializing a bag of holographic trash as I placed it on one of the street corners. Soon enough, a small squad of football-sized cubots with wide, round, dumb, glowing eyes came sauntering out of one of the unmarked pods that popped up every few blocks. The squad of goobers worked in coordinated unison, efficiently packing, hauling, then dragging the trash into their pod and vanishing out of sight. ¡°I see¡­¡± Was all Thalmin could say, his eyes that had once narrowed in suspicion now widened in tentative acknowledgement as we pressed onwards. ¡°But when discussing a city of hundreds of millions, surely these¡­ mana-less golems couldn¡¯t possibly be enough-¡± ¡°Oh of course they aren¡¯t. However, in each and every apartment lies a centralized direct tube network that whisks away commercial and residential grade trash alike directly to processing plants. In addition, we¡¯ve made great strides in waste reduction too. Community printers, mini-assemblers, and repair shops help in maintaining what we already have, avoiding a throw-first buy-next mentality that plagued us for the longest while.¡± I had the EVI enter a random high-rise apartment, one of the more modern refurbished ones as we ascended the stairs and into a second-story communal area dominated by the aforementioned printer, and a whole host of repair tools. ¡°Fascinating.¡± Thalmin acknowledged with a look of engagement. ¡°So I¡¯m assuming this¡­ space is similar in function to a town¡¯s blacksmith and communal work parlor, except¡­¡± He trailed off, allowing me to finish that sentence for him. ¡°...except it¡¯s able to produce a lot more than a blacksmith, yup. Able to repair a lot of the tools we rely on. And, it serves a vertical community, rather than one spread out like a town.¡± That latter sentence in particular seemed to click within the lupinor, as he nodded with a clear shift in his features. We eventually left the building, heading back onto the streets as the gauntlet of questions continued. ¡°That store specializes in¡­ flowers?¡± The lupinor prince pointed at a florist shop, clad in its period-green colors with bold bright white lettering denoting it as having been established sometime in the late 20th century. ¡°Yes, while you can order it on-¡± I paused, realizing how I almost casually entered a whole new can of worms that I really didn¡¯t need to get into right now. ¡°Erm, while you can order it via dedicated messaging systems, a lot of people still love the experience of actually talking to a florist themselves.¡± ¡°And I assume your typical common-, er¡­ individual, is capable of affording such luxuries?¡± ¡°Yup, I mean it¡¯s definitely not covered by Requisitions Units, so you¡¯d have to pay for it out of pocket using Universal Transaction Units. But yeah, it¡¯s affordable enough.¡± This elicited something of a raised brow from the lupinor as we then crossed paths with more points of interest. ¡°And this one, or rather, this street in particular. These seem to be stores of some sort? General stores?¡± ¡°Oh these? Yeah! They¡¯re bodegas, basically our city¡¯s version of general stores.¡± I quickly prompted the EVI to veer the projection towards the storefronts as I stood in front of one in particular, gesturing both of my arms towards the fresh produce and other assorted freshly harvested ingredients piled up high in clean-containers reminiscent of a 31st century replication of a 20th century establishment. ¡°Again, while you can get them directly delivered by supermarket retailers or the requisitions office via those guys up above-¡± I pointed directly overhead, at the lanes of drones that continued meandering back and forth. ¡°-there¡¯s just something about going to local retailers that¡¯s kept these places a cornerstone of city life. Moreover-¡± I paused, panning the scene over to one of Aunty Ran¡¯s favorite stores¡­ the Asian Specialty Market. ¡°-there¡¯s a lot more specialized goods you can get from these places too! With lots of people comes lots of culture and thus lots of need for a variety of ingredients!¡± I grinned wide, eliciting yet another nod from Thalmin as we moved forwards deeper still. Eventually, we ended up in an area with a particularly dense collection of small restaurants. Something the lupinor prince, as his visit to Valley Hill had hinted at, was particularly interested in. ¡°Oh this street in particular is infamous for how good it smells. You got the smell of freshly baked buttery goods, side by side fragrant spices, herbs, and heck, the constantly-spinning turntable of pizzas just constantly slamming you face first with that cheesy, tomato-y, garlic-y, basil-y goodness.¡± I rattled off in the confines of my helmet, eliciting what could only be described as a subtle sniff sniff sniff by the lupinor prince who promptly frowned as a result. ¡°Your sight-seer does not come with the immersive experience of scents it seems.¡± He spoke disappointedly, albeit still with a renewed sense of invigorated focus and interest. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re only tasting a fraction of what I¡¯m going through right now with my suit. The past ten or so meals we¡¯ve had together have been nothing short of torture, so now you get a taste of what I¡¯ve been experiencing this past week!¡± I announced jocularly, prompting the lupinor to break out in a smile, as he slapped my back once with reasonable force. ¡°That¡¯s rough.¡± Was all Thalmin said through a wide fangy sneer, as this bit of friendly, jokingly teasing humor seemed to be quite on brand for the prince. This down to earth look at the city, focusing and honing in on its daily life, seemed to accomplish exactly what I was going for. As Thalmin seemed to grow increasingly attuned to the idea of the city, now that the question of day to day life was actually addressed. Though there was still at least one area of interest that Thacea had seemingly shifted focus towards. As in addition to eyeing the shops and stores, her vision now focused on something Thalmin was likewise starting to hone in on as well. The streets. Because unlike the heritage town of Valley Hill, where the typical road to sidewalk model was relatively unchanged, the city was decidedly different. For there was now a distinct lack of a space for cars, as the space between buildings had been entirely reimagined. Now dominated centrally by light-rail, and flanked further by lanes specifically devoted to a myriad of pedestrian-grade vehicles - namely bicycles, scooters, and a whole assortment of wheeled transportation designed explicitly for compact personal use. The gang, and Thalmin in particular, stared intently at every commuter as they seamlessly transitioned between the tram before unfolding and unfurling their preferred mode of personal transport towards their final destination. As thousands more people walked along the wide open expanse of sidewalk that now shared dominance alongside bicycles and scooters, electric or traditionally powered. ¡°I can wrap my head around the lack of horses, Emma.¡± Thalmin began, pointing at the bicycles. ¡°This contraption is¡­ remarkably and deceptively simple yet innovative, and once again brings into question not only the skills of your blacksmiths and manufactoriums, but the volume by which they are able to outcompete more simple means of beast-driven personal transport. However, my question is thus. You previously implied that your manaless beastless carriages were the primary mode of transport. But I do not see them anywhere here unlike your first hometown.¡± ¡°Oh, they¡¯re here. They¡¯re just underneath our feet. Alongside the other half of our public transport systems.¡± ¡°Underground carriageways?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± ¡°For what purpose?¡± ¡°There just wasn¡¯t enough space for them aboveground. And as you can see around you, the space is better suited to be used by people rather than cars. In cities where space is at a premium, ground-level commuting is usually centered around the pedestrian rather than the car.¡± ¡°You make it sound as if there were actually too many beastless carriages at one point, Emma.¡± Thalmin replied with a narrowing of his eyes. Prompting me to stare back at him with a blank, featureless expression that could only be read as if only you knew. Sadly, the helmet nullified what would¡¯ve been half of my response. So I had to once again rely on good old fashioned words to get my point across. ¡°There were, Thalmin.¡± I replied bluntly. ¡°At one point-¡± I gestured up and down the street, before prompting the EVI to quickly switch to a pre 26th century New York. Prior to the urban restructuring schemes. ¡°-there were literally so many of them on the roads that there was nowhere for them to go.¡± Thalmin was hit face first with the blasting of horns, prompting him to hold his ears down. This was followed up by a look of complete and utter shock, as I could track his eyes darting from one end of the street to the other, down the seemingly endless bumper-to-bumper traffic that moved at a snail¡¯s pace. The sidewalks were overly crowded too, with barely any space to breathe as a result. This blast from the past lasted for only a few seconds more before the scene quickly transitioned back to modern day. As the gang breathed a collective sigh of relief having just narrowly escaped gridlock NYC. ¡°As you can see, one of our greatest accomplishments became our greatest hurdle. We were¡­ in a sense¡­ suffering from success. However, like many things in human history, we found alternative solutions to the very problems we created.¡± The scene shifted once more, this time, we began sinking into the Earth itself, which strangely enough didn¡¯t seem to phase any amongst the group. In fact, they seemed to collectively understand we were now witnessing a semi-realistic architectural render of the ground beneath where we were just standing atop of. It was, instead, the content of what they were seeing that began throwing them off. As we were now witness to one the larger commuter-tunnels. A massive multi-laned, multi-level tube that hosted a similar number of cars from the pre 26th century projection. Except this time, traffic flowed smoothly. ¡°We divided the space in a way that wouldn¡¯t simply remove the option of a mode of transportation, but instead we saw where each could shine in their own way. The space a car takes above ground is better suited for a small group of bikes, scooters, or whatever your choice of personal transport is. Cities must be built with its people in mind after all, and what better way of doing that then maximizing the space they have to walk, and giving them sunlight priority. Besides, getting from Point A to Point B isn¡¯t as slow as the tram might lead you to believe.¡± I gestured at the tram in question, moving at a leisurely enough pace when compared to the trains that soared above on the spaghetti-like elevated rail network. ¡°Normally you¡¯d just take a subway or a skytrain, then reach your final destination on foot or on wheels. It¡¯s pretty quick too, let me show you-¡± ¡°Emma.¡± Thalmin stopped me before I could continue, his face expressing the exhaustion from the outright endless flow of information that had inundated him up to this point. ¡°It¡¯s slowly starting to become clear to me that a lot of the troubles you face aren¡¯t troubles at all.¡± Thalmin spoke candidly, as if he wasn¡¯t allowing the words to stew in his head before blurting them out. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°The problem of this¡­ carriage congestion, can only arise out of a situation wherein an excess of beastless carriages existed in the first place. Which, to get to that point, would require a whole host of advances that would leave certain other issues completely overlooked.¡± ¡°Issues such as food, water, shelter, disease, and poverty. Problems that should be plaguing an adjacent realm. Problems which are both life-threatening and palpable.¡± Ilunor spoke abruptly, once more butting into the conversation with a burst of smoke-filled breaths. ¡°The problems you currently raise are non-problems that arise only once you become comfortable. These are crownland problems, problems that arise if and only the fundamental problems of life are addressed.¡± ¡°You mean immaterial worries that arise out of complexity?¡± I offered, prompting the Vunerian¡¯s eyes to grow wide with shock and confusion, as if he wasn¡¯t expecting those words in particular to emerge from my vocoders. ¡°Yes¡­¡± He managed out. ¡°But that is a terminology which you should not know.¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s reserved for those living in highly advanced societies right?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°That is correct, Emma.¡± Thacea finally stepped in, completely sidestepping the now-flabbergasted Vunerian as he stood there, eyes vacant and pupils dilated. ¡°For what you are suggesting, and the manner in which you are conveying your realm, seems to imply that your society is one that suffers from none of the pitfalls facing a pre-contact adjacent realm. More than that though, the manner in which you carry the narrative of your civilization seems to imply that the complexity which you have managed to accomplish far outclasses even those adjacent realms that have been entwined with the Nexus for the longest.¡± ¡°I guess that may just be the case.¡± I acknowledged with an awkward, sheepish sigh. ¡°And that might have to do with the fundamental differences in how we operate, and what we rely on. By virtue of our technology, our sciences, we rely on everyone to cooperate, which allows for a lot of advancement as it spreads out the burden of progress amongst a huge swath of people. I¡¯m assuming that progress when it comes to magic, is only limited to like, a room full of nobles per realm at best, right?¡± ¡°That is being reductive, Emma.¡± Thacea shot back sharply, but added softly thereafter. ¡°But not entirely far from the truth.¡± I acknowledged that with a curt nod. ¡°I apologize if I was getting ahead of myself there. But the point I¡¯m trying to make here is that without mana, without magic, the burden of advancement fell on the shoulders of the people. And it was with that, that advancement was made with the betterment of all in mind.¡± ¡°An example which can be seen with the mode of transportation we took to get into the city I presume? For in the absence of transportiums, and with the need to move not simply materials but people en masse, you employ the use of rail.¡± Thacea openly pondered. ¡°Which instead of remaining a niche augment to transportiums, have in and of themselves become the primary mode of transportation.¡± ¡°Correct.¡± I nodded. ¡°So instead of an immaterial connection provided by magic, you instead needed to cross that physical gap.¡± ¡°By brute forcing it through laying down tens of thousands of miles worth of track, and then some, yup.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Silence once more crept up after that exchange, with Thacea once more going deep into thought, Thalmin following suit¡­ but with Ilunor maintaining a look of utter loss in his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± He managed out low and hushed. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡± He tried again, his voice resonating deep within his throat before finally, he let out a respectable roar. ¡°I refuse to believe you!¡± I allowed him to calm down first, allowing him to regain his bearings, as a full minute passed before I replied with no pretenses of superiority, but with only a friendly tone of voice to color my speech. ¡°What¡¯ll it take for you to believe me, Ilunor?¡± ¡°Show me¡­ show me how you managed this.¡± ¡°Alright then.¡± I nodded in prompt agreement. ¡°That can be arranged.¡± Chapter 64: The Path Less Taken I snapped my fingers. And the whole world came to an instant pause. The sights, the sounds, the endless stream of drones and the chaotic crowds of people all frozen unnaturally in place. There were multiple ways things could proceed from this point forward. An inordinate number of trajectories by which this exercise¡­ no, this presentation could be taken. But with Ilunor having already reached the Information Dissemination Overflow threshold, those trajectories all but coalesced into one singular direction. As the flowchart of potentialities all but filtered into a thoroughfare that was by every sense of the word - a wildcard. A box on the flowchart that reads simply as - SUBJECT DEPENDENT. Which meant Ilunor was now going to dictate where we went from here. As mission commander, I could¡¯ve easily overruled that flowchart, simply gone down a path forged by my own intent. However, the flowcharts existed for a reason. And if Ilunor¡¯s functional state of denial was of any indication, there existed a distressing degree of accuracy by which these predictive analytics operated on. The eggheads and technocrats at home created and designed these guides, manuals, and flowcharts for a reason after all. And it was to mitigate risk, whilst maximizing success potentials for very specific, very narrow sets of variables. So whilst it wasn¡¯t capable of predicting wildcards like the library, the dean, Mal¡¯tory, or any of the magical shenanigans thus far, it was instances such as these where it could shine. I¡¯d been operating more or less outside of its scope of application thus far, completely parallel to its recommendations, so I might as well give it this one. Given how I¡¯d reached a dangerous functional impasse with the Vunerian. The likes of which was now staring up at me expectantly, and with a gaze that was a stone''s throw away from complete and utter detachment from reality. I had to play this carefully. ¡°Alright Ilunor, where would you like to start?¡± I spoke thoughtfully, mustering every diplomatically inclined fiber within me from simply yanking him right up and into an ultratall¡¯s terrace. ¡°Point to anything you¡¯d like, or bring up anything we¡¯ve seen so far, and I¡¯ll be more than happy to break things down for you.¡± The deluxe kobold didn¡¯t look as if he¡¯d registered those words at first. His expressions ironically became as unflinching as Thacea¡¯s, except instead of stoicism or a regal aloofness, his was a constant hundred yard stare that focused on nothing but the air directly in front of it. ¡°The city.¡± He announced bluntly, and with a monotone hoarseness that matched the vacant expression in his eyes. ¡°I want to see how it all began. Show me the city as it wasn¡¯t, as it was, up until where it supposedly is.¡± Yet despite that monotone, and despite being on the cusp of completely and utterly shattering, he still managed to find it within him to phrase his request in this sing-song vague and cryptic noble-speak. Which was frankly¡­ a good sign. It meant he wasn¡¯t a lost cause yet. Something that the EVI agreed with after a little wordless back and forth, and a bit of number crunching. The fact he was still snippy, ironically, meant that he was still in there. Albeit shaken, and teetering on the edge. ¡°Okay.¡± I replied after allowing his words to sink in for a bit, speaking through a satisfied grin underneath the helmet. The Vunerian had a whole world to point and choose from, and he picked perhaps the best topic for the situation. A topic that was one I¡¯d been hoping he would pick to begin with. ¡°EVI, are you ready with that TeamForgeLabsNow timelapse?¡± ¡°If you are referring to the Accelerated Overview of the NYC Old Quarter¡¯s Development in Greater Acela, I have the simulation parsed and ready, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Awesome.¡± I replied succinctly. ¡°Now put Captain Li on the tally board. He deserves an honorary mention for this as a New Quarter Yorker.¡± If the EVI was actually sapient, I bet its reactions would be nothing short of a sigh and a head tilt right now. For now it simply brought up our tally board, adding Captain Li into a new third column, and swiftly adding a tally soon after. Though strangely, it simultaneously added one tally mark in its own column, prompting me to perk up but silently accept that it was simply learning by example. ¡°I¡¯m assuming that one¡¯s for your predictions on Ilunor coming to fruition?¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Gotcha. That¡¯s fair.¡± I nodded internally. ¡°You deserve that one.¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± ¡°Now then, let¡¯s put on a show. On my mark.¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± Switching the audio feed back to the external speakers, I quickly addressed the distressed Vunerian, and the rest of the gang too. ¡°Hold onto your hats, guys.¡± I spoke with nothing short of excitement. The gang reacted to this with varying degrees of nods. Which meant the EVI was once again on point in translating that timeless expression. I snapped my fingers once again for dramatic flair, a wordless cue for the EVI to begin. The world slowly began receding, like an artistic interpretation of a distant memory fading into the background. As the lights, the sounds, and the nonexistent smells started fading away, sucked into a central finite point in space until nothing at all remained. A few seconds passed as we were momentarily suspended in a vacuum. Then, we were immediately and unceremoniously thrust back into the world, albeit from an elevated position up and above the city. Or more accurately, above an expanse of land bristling with natural beauty. As what we saw in front of us was the iconic tri-way vantage point, a perspective that offered views of most of the five boroughs of New York, with the East and Hudson Rivers merging into the Upper Bay, and then out and through the Lower Bay, before meeting the Atlantic Ocean. Manhattan was the focal point of this viewing angle, as it always was in these sorts of programs showing off NYC. Yet even at this point in time, most people would still be able to make out this particular part of Acela. As Manhattan island, flanked on one side by Brooklyn and Queens, and on the other by New Jersey, was so geographically iconic that even a spacer could make it out after a few long hard looks. This was true even in spite of the current lack of its equally-iconic New Quarters, as despite the addition of New Manhattan extending the island of the same name, and New Brooklyn expanding on the city¡¯s most populous borough, the shape and form of the new quarters complemented the old; making even the pre land extension project borders recognizable to the average observer. ¡°This was Acela. Or more specifically, the NYC old quarter prior to any support beams being jammed into the earth.¡± I spoke slowly, calmly, and with that same air of contained excitement I¡¯d used up to this point. ¡°What I¡¯m about to show you is a timelapse of the city¡¯s origins, of its urban development throughout the years, so if at any point you wish for me to pause to explain something, please feel free to do so.¡± A round of tentative nods was the only response I received from the group, with Ilunor thankfully taking part in that exchange with a little head bob of his own. So with that little caveat out of the way, the timelapse began. And the first visible changes to the land started coming into focus. It started off simply enough. With the establishment of dirt roads, log huts and cabins, alongside the presence of a handful of brick-reinforced structures. Horses and a whole host of animal-drawn vehicles started coming into focus too, as the timelapse made it look as if someone had just booted up an Era of Epochs game, before smashing the timeskip button until all of the individual figures became nothing but a blur of movement. The pace really started picking up now as wooden ports started appearing around the small town-sized development nestled atop of Manhattan island. With the appearance of the first large fully-rigged sailing vessels entering the harbor being the only thing to slow the pace down, just to allow the gang some time to get a feel of the era¡¯s technological state, before picking back up its hastened pace. No one raised any brows, or had any objections to either the city nor the ships at this point in time. Which was good. It meant that the dissemination threshold was holding. Early NYC was, after all, quite comparable to the cities as seen through the sight-seers. Thacea¡¯s sight-seer in particular made it clear that such ships existed, and in an adjacent realm no less. Which made it a good jumping point for Ilunor, as the point of contention was more than likely going to start as industrialization really kicked in. The seconds ticked by with each passing year now roughly corresponding to roughly a second of holographic time. As we moved swiftly from the 18th to the 19th century. Wood structures were expanded until they could expand no more, and were swiftly replaced by brick and mortar buildings. Some of them now proudly boasted design flourishes that demonstrated the city¡¯s growing wealth. A wealth that was corresponding in tandem to the development of the harbors and ports, as New York¡¯s more illustrious harbors started gaining a foothold, with larger and larger ships in greater and greater volumes coming into and out of the harbor at dizzying speeds. The roads were likewise changing, as dirt roads were filled with gravel and stone, then eventually pavement. Horses and wagons soon gave way to buggies and carriages more reminiscent of Lord Lartia¡¯s stretched-carriage, or more accurately, Thalmin¡¯s own realm and the abundance of beast-drawn vehicles in his capital. But as the 1830s started drawing to a close, so too did the direct comparisons between Earth, and the adjacent realms start to diverge. With the appearance of a large, lumbering, smoke-spewing behemoth that despite having its sails on proud display, was unlike any other vessel currently in the harbor. The thrash thrash thrash of its paddlewheels churned the calm waters of harbor, and if smellovision was a thing, the group would¡¯ve probably been hit with a facefull of burnt coal as the camera deliberately spun and focused in on this beast of iron and wood born out of the early efforts of industrializing humanity. On its side, was written in English, translated to High Nexian - the SS GREAT WESTERN. The age of sail had come to an end. And the age of steam had just begun. As expected, the group¡¯s attention was now placed squarely on this vessel. As Thalmin and Thacea in particular seemed utterly drawn to the large paddlewheels on its side, their eyes darting back and forth between that, and the smoke billowing out of its singular smokestack. ¡°The sails I understand. Wind powered ocean-faring vessels are not beyond us, or at least my realm. However¡­ those¡­ paddlewheels, I¡¯m assuming they play a primary role in the ship¡¯s propulsion?¡± Thalmin was the first to speak up, his confidence in voicing his curiosities was becoming more and more apparent as compared to the other two. ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°Propelling itself forward, by virtue of pushing itself along the waves akin to oars.¡± He mused, before quickly adding. ¡°I am by no means an expert in nautical affairs so you must forgive me if I am making any missteps in my seafaring terminology.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry Thalmin, you and I are on the same boat on that front.¡± My unintentional pun was seemingly translated into High Nexian rather literally. As the lupinor prince responded with an appropriately timed puffy cackle, before moving swiftly onward onto his next points. ¡°With that being said, this begs the question¡­ I don¡¯t imagine those paddles to be powered by mana.¡± ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°Nor wind.¡± ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°Nor the power of beasts nor man hidden within.¡± ¡°Nope.¡± ¡°Then it must be the burning of the compressed remains of plant and animal matter, as you so eloquently described earlier.¡± Thalmin pondered, prompting me to simply nod my head in response. ¡°That is correct.¡± I paused, wondering if I wanted to poke more fun at the topic by bringing up the burning of dragon remains again, but then realized it¡¯d probably be counterintuitive to the goal of this whole exercise - to ease Ilunor in on the reality that Thacea and Thalmin had seemed to already warmed up to. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°If there are no further questions I¡¯ll move on to-¡± ¡°Show me.¡± Ilunor interjected, his eyes having ignored everything else currently on display, save for the steamship. ¡°How does the simple act of burning anything, be it plant, animal, wood, coal, or what have you, equate to that?¡± He pointed at the rotating paddlewheels. ¡°How can the mana-less action of mere fire and heat, equate to the movement of such constructs?¡± ¡°Easy.¡± I announced with an affirmative nod, snapping my fingers once more, as the projection zoomed in further and further towards the vessel; before outright entering it as we passed the top deck, the bridge, the first class saloon, then heading deep into the bowels of the ship itself. The boiler room. There, we witnessed what amounted to a dirty operation. With chunks of black sooty rock being picked up and shoveled into these massive furnaces; roaring and bathing the entire space in a heat-filled miasma. ¡°We use this heat-¡± I started, allowing the EVI to zoom out from that vantage point, before highlighting the water tanks behind it. ¡°-to boil water. Which then turns into steam.¡± The perspective zoomed out even more now, highlighting the journey of the steam into the engine room, where it began pushing these massive two-story tall pistons. ¡°Which pushes these pistons, which in turn, is translated to mechanical energy which pushes the paddlewheels.¡± We zoomed out even more, just momentarily touching on the various gears, cogs, and moving parts necessary to translate that energy over into the simple clockwise motion of the paddlewheels. The whole scene lasted for barely a minute, before zooming back out and over the harbor, where I stood with my fists resting firmly on both of my hips. ¡°Like I said, easy, right?¡± This was the first time something palpable was touched upon during this presentation. The first time where vague comments and explanations had suddenly been translated into tangible reality. Everything was already there to grasp, the burning of coal, the heating up of water, the creation of steam¡­ the only bridge that needed to be crossed was how those innocuous factors could be translated into usable energy. Which, given the purely mechanical motions of the whole process, was something I hoped would be easily grasped. Thalmin¡¯s eyes practically glowed with an even greater sense of vigor now. Thacea¡¯s expressions, whilst unreadable, betrayed something stirring within. And Ilunor? Well, I never imagined that it would be possible for someone to possess both a vacant expression and a look of realization at the same time. ¡°All of this¡­¡± He finally started to respond. ¡°All of these¡­ roundabout, meandering, long-winded processes¡­ all to mimic but a fraction that the gifts of mana afford us?¡± He spoke disjointedly, mumbling out some words, yet voicing it in perfect clarity in others. It was as if he was undecided in whether or not he was addressing himself, or anyone else in the group. I allowed him some time to stew as a result. Before finally, he once again fixated his gaze on me. ¡°You turned a basic principle, a child¡¯s toy, and embraced it to make up for your handicaps!¡± He exclaimed hoarsely. ¡°In the absence of mana, in the absence of the easy way out, we embraced every principle we understood and applied it practically. We walked the path less taken. Through trial and error what you claim to be a fraction of what mana can afford you, we went from this-¡± I gestured once more at the SS Great Western. ¡°-to this-¡± I flared my hands, and the transatlantic paddlewheel steamer was suddenly accompanied by the iconic Olympic Class liners of the 1910s with their four imposing smoke stacks rising tall and bellowing horns blaring proud. ¡°-in about eighty years. From there, things only further improved, as we iterated and innovated from burning coal to burning more concentrated sources of heat.¡± Adding to this impromptu lineup, large diesel-powered cruise ships of the 2000s drifted into view; large, unwieldy, monolithic things the size of entire city blocks or hotels balanced precariously upon a hull that was squat and wide. Yet despite my personal distaste for them, they still had their place in history. ¡°From there, we found even more efficient ways of boiling water to generate steam.¡± The projection switched up yet again, now adding a 22nd century liner, a vessel just under twice the size of its 21st century counterpart, but powered by nuclear engines. ¡°Before finally, transitioning to more condensed energy sources.¡± I ended the little tangent off with the appearance of a typical 31st century liner, one that ironically held more in common with the aesthetics of those early ships, but with the size, scale, and detailings of modernity giving away its place in the timeline. This whole tangent was¡­ a necessary jumping off point. To demonstrate that in the absence of mana, and in the absence of power being derived from manual labor or the labor of beasts of burden, there existed an alternative. To show that humanity had chosen that alternative, as a means of hammering home the reality of the potentials of a so-called mana-less civilization. I allowed Ilunor to stew in the shadow of the great modern liners for a few more minutes, as I could actually witness the cogs beginning to turn in his head now. ¡°And all of this nautical mana-less advancement¡­ for what purpose?¡± He spoke incredulously, breaking the silence once more. The question should¡¯ve taken me off guard, but with Ilunor¡¯s less than flattering track record, it felt rather on point. ¡°Same answer as to every other mode of transport we invested our time and energy into - to move people and materials from one side of the world to another.¡± I replied bluntly, before moving to address the real question being asked here. ¡°However I don¡¯t think that¡¯s the answer you wanted. That much is obvious enough. Transportation is literally just that after all. So what¡¯s your actual question here, Ilunor?¡± The Vunerian let out a few strained huffs following that little confrontation, a few puffs of white smoke emerging from his nostrils, disrupting the otherwise seamless projection as a result. ¡°My question, Earthrealmer, is what would possess your kind to go through such lengths as to achieve¡­¡± Ilunor paused abruptly, as if the next word he was about to blurt out was at odds with the reality and opinions he wanted to project. A critical error, or an incongruent value in an otherwise cohesive system. ¡°... what should be impossible.¡± There it was. The cracks in the foundation were showing. The Vunerian, through greater effort, was starting to ease off of the information dissemination overflow threshold. The appearance of the simple, almost innocuous ¡®should¡¯, being demonstrative of how it was now his beliefs holding him back rather than the core understanding of his world preventing him from moving forward. ¡°Because all of this would have been impossible without either mana, or technology, Ilunor.¡± I replied readily, trying my best to bridge the gap. ¡°And since our civilization, our people, our world lacks the former¡­ our only option was to embrace the latter.¡± ¡°Embracing an¡­ alternative is one thing, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor replied with an intense focus on his face. ¡°But to embrace it to such an extent, with seemingly no end in sight¡­ what is the purpose?¡± ¡°To march forward to the tune of progress for the sake of progress, and for the sake of improving the tools at the disposal to civilization, to better allow civilization to facilitate the needs and wants of its citizenry. To celebrate the past, by continuing their legacy, in creating a better future for all.¡± ¡°So you supposedly celebrate and honor the past by creating an unrecognizable future?¡± Ilunor shot back once more, the unexpected divergence from my meaning almost completely threw me off yet again. ¡°The sacrifices of the past have always been to better the future. Sometimes that future might be different to what the past inherently was.¡± I argued back. ¡°Then we have very different values on what it means to celebrate and honor the past, newrealmer.¡± Ilunor replied candidly. ¡°But you cannot deny, Nexian, that the values of Earthrealm are eerily similar to the values of the Nexus and the Crownlands in particular. As it seems as if both trend towards the celebration of civilization?¡± Thalmin suddenly butted in, prompting the Vunerian¡¯s eyes to grow wide with indignation, before transitioning into a look of realization, but emerging on the other end instead with a renewed sense of commitment. A commitment to the narrative of his worldview. ¡°We are at odds at the crystallization of perfection, and this seemingly senseless commitment to dangerous progression for the sake of nothing but a perceived betterment at the cost of the loss of the eternal permanence of the past.¡± Ilunor replied. ¡°But can you really say to yourself that this is not a civilization bearing all of the hallmarks of Crownlands Preeminence?¡± Thalmin once more shot back with a toothy grin. ¡°You said it yourself, Nexian, the Earthrealmers seemingly experience only issues that arise from that very crystallization of Crownlands Preeminence: the immaterial worries that arise out of complexity.¡± Thalmin quoted me word for word. ¡°Moreover, she knew what that term was, describing it, without actually speaking it.¡± This seemed to push Ilunor further into a silent stupor, as his look of tentative reconciliation with my explanations was being challenged by Thalmin¡¯s more heavy-handed approach. Which prompted me to reenter the fray to prevent the IDOV threshold from being crossed, and to wrestle control of the intended presentation back towards its intended path. ¡°With all that being said, Ilunor. All I meant to say was that we push forward in spite of our lack of mana, as a result of our tenacious nature to secure what would¡¯ve been to the past - an intangible dream. You are right in calling us a race of dreamers, but you fail to see how much we wish to see that dream become a reality we can truly live in. How about we proceed?¡± Ilunor, along with Thacea and Thalmin, nodded in varying degrees of agreement; an improvement from their former tentative nature to the progression of the projection. The EVI quickly cleared up the lineup of ships, leaving only the SS Great Western remaining, as it finally docks into the harbor to the cheering of period-dressed crowds. Things progressed quickly from there. As the timelapse once more resumed its steady pace. The rate at which new brick and mortar buildings began rising from the earth hastened, and the establishment of the iconic grid layout started manifesting quicker than the placement of the dirt roads ever managed. The spread of the city increased horizontally, with it taking up more and more of the previously untouched greenery, draping the blanket of green with a cold hard layer of browns and grays. But instead of it spreading from any central focal point, the development seemed to happen sporadically. With the center of each borough radiating outwards, like tendrils of industrial and urban progress hungry for any free space it could snag up, converting it to more of itself. Train tracks were visible in the distance as well, as grand central station sprung up around the same time, accompanied by a whole host of trains that seemed to grow in size and scale with each passing year. Each model iterated on the previous, the engines growing larger and larger, the carriages following the same trend, and the length of each train elongating overall as a result. Smokestacks suddenly appeared practically everywhere, as thick black plumes enveloped the skies. This breakneck pace of industrial and urban development finally came to a head at the turn of the 19th century, with the appearance of one of the first truly tall structures finally emerging out of the dense cluster of buildings that now inhabited Manhattan. From that point forward, the course of the city¡¯s development was no longer restricted to a single plane, as a completely new world opened up. The skies. Vertical development followed the same pattern, highrises emerging from the densest clusters of the urban core, rising seemingly out of nothing, coming to dominate the skies and creating a distinct pattern set against the horizon. The city¡¯s skyline. Yet all wasn¡¯t completely static on the ground as well, as alongside the development of these new vertical symbols of prosperity came the symbol of prosperity for the common man - the automobile. As horses, buggies, and carriages suddenly disappeared almost seemingly overnight across the first few decades of the 20th century, replaced almost entirely by their mechanical successors, the noisy, klaxon-sounding machines prompting Thalmin to once again cover his ears, much to Ilunor¡¯s delight. Roads were now all but paved in the classic asphalt black, sidewalks were emerging as a result, and gridlock was visible seemingly every other second on the timelapse. However, as much as the roads were being clogged, so too were the skies themselves starting to become host to a whole new type of technological innovation. As a small, almost imperceptible speck visible against the otherwise bright and cloudless skies made itself known through a series of mechanical sputters. The age of flight had arrived. The first biplanes started to take flight, their sputtering engines barely carried them aloft across the New York skyline. However, at the pace of the timelapse, these small unwieldy constructs of wood and canvas soon gave way to more rigid constructs, which began performing increasingly daring flights, coloring the skies in banners, advertisements, and daring displays of aerial acrobatics. A brief interlude in the interwar period brought about the appearance of the short-lived airships, as Thacea in particular seemed utterly drawn to their looming, imposing presence. But just as quickly as they appeared on the projection, so too did they disappear, replaced instead by increasingly larger and larger propeller driven planes that crowded the skies. Eventually those too were phased out, as the sounds of piston-driven engines were outright outcompeted by the shrill exhaust of jet engines. The jet age had arrived. Just barely after the emergence of the age of aviation itself. Ilunor, having seemingly recalled his own boastful words but a few hours ago, fell questionably silent at the sight of these flying artifices as Thalmin eloquently mumbled out. The thing was, the emergence of aircraft and their development across the 20th century happened so quickly, that their appearance in the time lapse seemed not to have sunk in for the Vunerian just yet. As he still seemed mesmerized by the short-lived time of the airships, prior to their replacement by larger and larger piston-driven prop planes, that were themselves phased out for jets almost as quickly as they arrived on scene. Contrails started blanketing the skies with increasingly artificial patterns, indicating the mass proliferation of commercial aviation over the latter half of the 20th century, as development absolutely exploded during this time, with modern glass and steel towers eclipsing the old, art-deco structures. The rate of construction started slowing in the early to mid twenty-first however, as the Cascade Collapse saw a near complete halt in economic growth, and by extension, the city¡¯s otherwise seemingly never ending thirst for urban development. But as quickly as that lull period arrived, so too did it end, as a new economic boom brought on by the beginnings of the intrasolar era drove the engines of industry to a whole new level. Supertall skyscrapers were now being accompanied by the emergence of some of the first megatalls to arrive onto the scene in NYC, with the greatest irony of it being that the first megatall was constructed not in downtown Manhattan, but in the neighboring Jersey City. This trend of friendly cross-state, inter-city rivalry came into full swing as lunar colonization brought about a seemingly never ending torrent of economic potential, with megatalls slowly, but surely popping up every which way across the island of Manhattan. At about the same time, the spaghettification of the overground elevated rail systems started coming into its own, as Grand Central now played host to a terminal nexus of newly minted passenger rail services. Rail services that stopped at the foot, or even inside of some of the newly constructed megatalls, before diverging outwards towards the five boroughs, and even into New Jersey itself. The first inklings of the deeply-integrated Acela could trace its roots to this period of deepening interconnectedness. However, just as quickly as this pace of progress pushed forward, so too did a new challenge emerge. One that arrived in the form of what has, and continues to be the lifeblood of the city itself. The ocean. As water levels continued to rise, coming to a head in the Big One of 2109, as the city looked as if it had practically sunk beneath the waterline for a short, but still not-negligible period of time. Yet this did nothing to phase the seemingly impregnable city. In fact, it seemed to incite the exact opposite. As something entirely new began manifesting just to the left and right of the projection - a massive buildup of truly epic proportions in an area of otherwise undeveloped space at the banks of the lower bay. The New York - New Jersey enclosure dam. The birth of the age of terrestrial megastructures had finally arrived. Chapter 65: I Hate Earth ¡°Emma. What is happening?¡± Thalmin uttered out with an uneasy and darkened timbre. He pointed, expectedly, at the rapidly developing enclosure dam. As activity doubled, tripled, then quadrupled in a matter of seconds on the timelapse. With ships and aircraft buzzing around monolithic and motionless beams lying flat on their sides on either side of the harbor; and land vehicles scurrying back and forth with trailers full of eclectic and niche machinery. ¡°It is a dam.¡± Thacea finally managed out after all this time, her words spoken through a face seamlessly hiding the turmoil deep within. ¡°They are constructing a dam.¡± ¡°A dam?¡± Thalmin parroted back. ¡°For what purpose?¡± He then gestured at the two rivers further up the bay, before tracing his fingers down and towards the dam at the mouth of the bay. ¡°That is the wrong place to build a dam. For the only thing that would be controlling would be the flow of water either out from the rivers and into the ocean, or-¡± It was at that point that Thalmin stopped in his tracks. His eyes suddenly grew wide with a look of utter shock as he turned towards me with an expectant, awestruck gaze. ¡°-to prevent the flow of water from the oceans themselves, from overwhelming the city, yes.¡± I answered, completing the lupinor¡¯s train of thoughts without a moment¡¯s delay as I gestured towards the dam. ¡°I will not ask if it is even possible, nor will I ask why.¡± Thalmin responded shortly thereafter. ¡°The answers to both questions are quite obvious to me. However, I will ask you this - are your people so stubborn, that they would actively resist the very forces of nature signaling a time for your departure from such a geographically vulnerable chokehold?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I answered without even a hint of hesitation. ¡°That¡¯s exactly it. We¡¯re stubborn, Thalmin. And when push comes to shove, we won¡¯t allow even nature itself to upend our plans. When we humans want something, when we humans value something, be it a place, an object, a resource, or even an ideal, we will commit to securing and defending it¡­ no matter the cost. The impossible becomes possible when humanity defines it as our goal. So no matter what nature decides to throw at us, be it wind, water, or even the quaking of the earth beneath our feet, we treat it like any other challenge - an obstacle to be overcome.¡± ¡°Hubris.¡± Ilunor spat back. ¡°Oh is it now?¡± Thalmin shot back. ¡°It-¡± ¡°So when an adjacent realm does it, it¡¯s no longer The Triumph of Sapiency, but Hubris, now is it?¡± He continued, completely upending Ilunor¡¯s rebuttal before he could even form it into words. ¡°Is Emma not speaking eerily like an elf right now, Ilunor? Or more specifically, a member of the distinguished crownlands?¡± He continued even further, driving home his point as Ilunor continued to shrink. ¡°Thalmin raises a fascinating point, Lord Rularia.¡± Thacea finally reentered the fray, if only to add a point that bordered on the mercenary prince¡¯s passive aggressiveness, but was delivered in a way that was more matter-of-fact than anything. ¡°Do her words not run parallel to the teachings of Alarcar the Enlightened, or Estronar the wise? Does she not speak of the same triumphs of sapiency over the unthinking, unfeeling, savage and primal forces of nature? Does she not speak of the Great Four fundamental truths?¡± Ilunor grew increasingly quiet, as his breathing all but stopped at that point. ¡°Earthrealm seems to very much pass all the checks of a civilized realm, Ilunor, let alone the prerequisites for a basic newrealm. Everything, from their capabilities down to their very defiance of the natural order, seems to very much match even the hallmarks of the Crownlands, no?¡± Thalmin was, in a sense, rubbing humanity¡¯s achievements up in Ilunor¡¯s face much better than I ever could have. Considering he had both the vitriol of a defiant adjacent realmer, and the cultural context by which to make it hurt even worse than I ever could¡¯ve managed, it made sense to outsource that bit of flexing out to the lupinor. Moreover, boasting for the sake of boastfulness wasn¡¯t my goal. It was merely a satisfying byproduct. This entire exercise was, after all, still aimed at pulling the Vunerian in from the threshold of denial, and back into a comfortable state where he was able to suspend his disbeliefs, to allow for everything to sink in at a steady, sustainable pace. A few more seconds passed as time was slowed to allow for the major milestones of the project to be seen in excruciating detail. From the erection of temporary storm barriers, to the placement of cofferdams, to the draining of said cofferdams leaving massive empty chasms by which thousand foot-pylons were then thrust deep beneath the soggy bottom of the bay itself; the sheer scale of the project was unlike anything else seen before. Yet it certainly wasn¡¯t going to be the last. As lessons from this project would be put to use in the following decades and centuries, leading to the foundational treatise by which further megaprojects would quite literally be built upon. ¡°A Nexian planar mage could have simply erected a dam of similar size and scale in a fraction of the time with a fraction of the effort.¡± Ilunor mumbled out under his breath. ¡°And yet we managed to do so without the aid of any mana in sight, let alone a planar mage.¡± I responded tit for tat, before turning towards Thalmin to begin addressing one of my prior points. ¡°Reaching a comparable level of greatness by means of mana-less labor and excruciating toil.¡± He rebutted. ¡°Excruciating toil which lessens and lessens with each passing year.¡± I shot back just as snappily, highlighting all of the manned and unmanned machines working away at the erection of the walls of the dam. ¡°As we push forward for a future not dictated by the labor of men, but accelerated instead by the rhythm of machines. A future where the forge of civilization lies not with the whims of any one mage or group of mages, but by the voluntary participation of the entire citizenry; sharing in expertise, experience, and perspectives. For there isn¡¯t one man who has the capacity to design every last component of this dam. Nor is there one man who can magically give rise to it with the flick of a magical wrist. Instead, there¡¯s a team, a veritable army of experts required for the job.¡± ¡°And with more of these experts and participants in the process, comes more administration, and with more administration comes an increasing need for a stronger leader.¡± Thalmin shot back, suddenly butting into the exchange with a renewed desire to prod at the flow of my narrative. ¡°In our case, the increased burden of administration leads to an increasing demand for representation, Thalmin. Representation of those with the skill sets required to build, design, and operate the dam. Administrators administrate, because that¡¯s where their expertise lies. But they¡¯re ultimately beholden to the taxpayers footing the bill for the project, and the experts and builders actually building it.¡± ¡°And does this¡­ tradition of representative participation end at singular projects? Or does it bleed into the very nature of your statecraft, Emma?¡± Thalmin continued, his interests now diverging heavily from the holographic projection, and towards the topic I alluded to earlier. ¡°It very much does not end at singular projects, Thalmin.¡± I responded with a polite smile. ¡°I did mention earlier how I¡¯d find a way to show you how commoner is a term that simply doesn¡¯t apply to how our system operates, correct?¡± ¡°That you did.¡± Thalmin nodded. ¡°And I am starting to see just why you chose to build your way towards that point, rather than stating it outright.¡± The lupinor expressed with a half-sigh, and a cock of his head. ¡°But whilst I understand the value of having an unfiltered perspective of those in the thick of things, considering such insights are necessary for a ruler to rule effectively, I still find it¡­ difficult to see how such a representative system would in any way work. I find it hard to imagine how a ruler could effectively do anything whilst being beholden to the cacophony of the masses.¡± ¡°It took a lot of time before we actually reached a comfortable point where we managed to make it work, Thalmin. I will admit, there were¡­ a lot of trials and tribulations in the thousand or so years it took us to get it just right; and even then we all agree there¡¯s always still room for improvement. The form my government takes today, and the institutions that comprise its corporeal form, have all adapted to address the unique and eclectic collection of issues that faces modern society; making it unrecognizable from the earliest iteration of the organization that once bore its name and title.¡± I took a moment to pause, to actually think about how best to frame the road it took to get to this point. Whether or not it was worth diving or even touching upon the five major wars it took to get to what was in effect the most stable iteration of the UN to date. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a smooth road, nor was it a simple straightforward path by any stretch of the imagination.¡± I continued with a somber confidence. ¡°But each tragedy which befell us was a tragedy we vowed to, and actively did, learn from. Each mistake we made was not just acknowledged, but set in stone in legislation and policy, treated as stepping stones towards a brighter tomorrow. For each and every setback came with the gift of hindsight, and the knowledge of exactly what led us to that point. Allowing us to critically study, analyze, and thus adapt through legislation and policy the framework by which to prevent the same mistakes from ever occurring. But these supposed gifts did not come without its price, which further incentivizes those in their wake to ensure the sacrifices of the past were not given in vain. In effect, forming the current status quo, setting a universal precedent for a cautious evidence-based approach to statecraft across all levels of government.¡± ¡°Through trial and tribulation, nurtured in adversity, births a lineage of wisdom and strength.¡± Thalmin acknowledged with a gruff, tempered, and respectful tone of voice. ¡°And you wish to claim that this legacy enshrined in wisdom is not one maintained by a lineage, family, nor clan?¡± The lupinor just as quickly shot back with a look of questioning disbelief, bordering on incredulity. ¡°No.¡± I announced firmly, and with as resolute of a voice as I could muster. ¡°It¡¯s a legacy that is shared by the institutions that comprise the state, and the offices within that are blind to such concepts; seeing only technical merit, relevant experience, and the voice of the people as the only criterion by which leaders ascend to their positions of power.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re once again implying that there exists no delineations of nobility or authority through birthright within your realm?¡± Thalmin shot back once more, as if to clarify for the final time, what exactly I meant by the hints and outright explanations I¡¯d dropped thus far. ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± I started off plainly. ¡°We do still have some elements of nobility and monarchy, but they only exist as localized distinctions relevant only to a handful of constituent states. They hold no power or sway over the Greater United Nations, the political entity that governs all of humanity save for the nation of Switzerland. All are born equal under the eyes of our country, and all are held equally accountable for their actions. Everyone is given equal opportunity across the board, and no single individual is held above or below their peers by their bloodline or heritage. This is how my state and my country views its citizens, Thalmin.¡± I managed out with a resolute, and confident tone of voice. ¡°For all humans are born equal, and birthright holds no weight on the ascension to positions of power within the state.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Thalmin began, turning towards both Thacea and Ilunor in rapid succession. The former¡¯s visage remained, as it always was - stoic and unmoving. The latter, surprisingly, was similarly unmoving; yet remained paradoxically trapped in what could only be described as an expression of tentative understanding with a thickly veiled attempt at hiding an underlying discontent with this newfound knowledge. ¡°I find this ludicrous, still.¡± Ilunor finally chimed in with a smoke-ridden breath. ¡°You say that your country governs all, and yet¡­ you say that there still exists entire constituent states with nobility and royalty. How can nobility bend the knee to an overlord of common heritage?¡± ¡°I¡¯m more than happy to explain, Ilunor.¡± I replied first with a polite, diplomatic smile. ¡°They were already rendered all but functionally irrelevant prior to the Greater United Nations¡¯ federalization. The UN wasn¡¯t the one to force them to bend the knee, it was just a combination of a multitude of factors. From hamstrung internal politics, to economics, to the will of the people themselves enacting change; ultimately it was time itself that brought on the redundancy of the nobility and royalty. They were rendered defunct simply because they no longer served a purpose, and simply because all others had adopted democracy as the de facto political system. It was a gradual process, I admit, with some nations accelerating the process in their own way.¡± I deftly dodged the matter of revolutions¡­ the topic of which could potentially upset the friendships I¡¯ve forged thus far. ¡°But at the end of the day, most of the constituent monarchies of our federation exist only in ceremony, without any power in practice.¡± I allowed that explanation to hang in the air for a while, as Thalmin processed it intently, his eyes occasionally darting from my lenses to the city we now hung above. The EVI having elected to play a jazzy rendition of the United Nations¡¯ March to the Stars throughout my speech. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Ilunor¡¯s reactions were¡­ decidedly, the same as a majority of his reactions to my explanations thus far - his signature hundred yard stare. Though considering his active participation in the conversation, it was safe to say that he was still a reasonable ways away from the IDOV threshold. Which was all that mattered at this point. ¡°So who¡¯s actually in charge of your country, Emma?¡± Thalmin finally responded, his impatience for this particular subject matter clear just from the look in his eyes alone. It was at that point that I could¡¯ve simply prattled on with an entire overview of the UN, but that would be getting ahead of myself. Whilst the gang had presented the general vibe of an absolutist system, I had no idea how far or to what extent those human-based assumptions could really go. As a result, starting up without a baseline could lead to even more misunderstandings. So, taking a page out of SIOP, it was time to ping pong back and forth with Thalmin and whoever else wanted to pick and prod at me. It was better to understand their frame of reference first, before deconstructing my own, tailoring it to better disseminate to their worldview. ¡°Who¡¯s in charge of things in your realm, Thalmin?¡± That question definitely caught the mercenary prince off guard, as he turned to both Thacea, and even Ilunor, before turning back to me with a cock of his head. ¡°My father, the King.¡± He replied bluntly. ¡°So does anyone else share power with him? Or does he have the final say in everything that happens in your realm?¡± Thalmin seemed, for the first time, to take one of my questions rather uneasily. That line of questioning practically elicited something close to a look of indignant confusion, before settling on plain old perplexity. ¡°He holds absolute power, Emma. He may appoint ministers to act on his behalf, or generals to fight on his orders, but at the end of the day all powers of the state are vested in him and him alone. Long may he reign, taset virsa.¡± Thalmin spoke with a resounding resoluteness, capping off that statement in what seemed to be a mantra that I assumed to be a trained reflexive tradition. ¡°And judging by what you spoke of him and his use of advisors, his reign seems assuredly to be a wise and enlightened one, Thalmin.¡± I acknowledged flatteringly, highlighting Thalmin¡¯s earlier mentions of the man¡¯s use of boots-on-the-ground advisors, as I attempted to dip my toes into the realm of diplomatic flattery if only to make up for the suddenness of my questions and the stark revelation of humanity¡¯s lack of nobility or monarchy. Diplomatic ties with the Nexus might be off the table, but the adjacent realms? That¡¯s another matter altogether. ¡°I appreciate the kind acknowledgement, Emma. And I am certain that your realm, whilst¡­ fundamentally different, will at least be able to match this spirit of enlightened rule.¡± Thalmin nodded respectfully, before continuing on into a question that fell neatly into SIOP¡¯s lap. ¡°With all that being said, I am assuming these abrupt questions as to the structure of power of my realm, is pertinent to the answer you have for your own?¡± ¡°Yes, because the answer to your question isn¡¯t as straightforward. As instead of an absolute seat of vested authority, our government is instead divided into three distinct branches.¡± ¡°For what purpose?¡± Thalmin immediately shot back. ¡°To prevent the concentration of power by providing for checks and balances, and the separation of power such that no sole individual or group can hold a monopoly on said power.¡± I explained succinctly. ¡°Which would be the logical goal of a realm whose political power is derived from appointment by the masses.¡± Thacea acknowledged suddenly, and with a look of piercing curiosity. ¡°That¡¯s always been the goal for our governments, Thacea.¡± I nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°Go on then.¡± Ilunor urged with an impatient huff. ¡°Let¡¯s hear of this¡­ debauchery of enlightened perfection. For at this point, even a realm with a mercenary sitting atop of a stolen throne holds more integrity than whatever mess your kind has concocted, newrealmer.¡± ¡°In a similar vein to Thalmin¡¯s right to rule, integrity was our aim from the very beginning. for the division of our government was designed to have that in spades. As we divided our government up so as to limit their powers by making it known their distinct responsibilities in the administration of a state; designating a branch to legislate the laws, execute the laws, and interpret the laws. A legislative, executive, and judicial branch respectively.¡± ¡°A mire of madness.¡± Ilunor muttered out. ¡°It does get confusing, somewhat arbitrary, and downright chaotic at times, I admit. But the way things came about was once again, lessons learned through hardship. For example, our legislative branch went through massive reformations after the first¡­ major war.¡± I intentionally left the word intrasolar out for the sake of this demonstration, space would just be too much for them to handle right now. ¡°So instead of maintaining integrity and refusing to change, you instead bend to the whims and the winds of whichever way the tides flow, hmm?¡± Ilunor interjected. ¡°There¡¯s a fine line between integrity and outright stagnation, Ilunor. And like I said before, there¡¯s always room for improvement. Our systems of governance adapt to meet the challenges of each era, and in the case of our legislature, it took a war to finally kick us in the butt to push us into our second iteration. As at the start of our great global federal democratic experiment, the supranational federal entity that was the United Nations still carried with it vestiges of its past as an advisory body with limited power, which proved to be limiting and incongruent with what it was trying to become. As a body that aimed to represent not just its constituent states, but its citizens, the model of representation via delegates appointed to its sole legislative body by the local leaders of its member states - the General Assembly, proved to be insufficient. As such, following the conclusion of the first major war, sweeping reforms added a second, lower house to the legislature - the People¡¯s Assembly. Creating what is in affect our modern bicameral parliamentary system. A system wherein citizens are able to directly vote for the representatives of the lower house, and individual member states retain their ability to appoint representatives to the upper house.¡± ¡°And these are your leaders?¡± Thalmin asked with a cock of his head. ¡°Yes and no, they are our legislators, representatives meant to speak on our behalf for the drafting and deliberation of laws. Our ¡®leaders¡¯ in the traditional sense are in the executive. Of which we have our head of state, and our head of government. The former is referred to as the First Secretary, a role appointed by two bodies: the first being a rotating committee of leading academics known as The Collegiate, the second being the Secretaries of each and every one of the UN¡¯s federal executive departments known as The Secretariat. The latter however is referred to as the First Speaker, elected into office by the people via votes casted in an election, and thus the more ¡®traditional¡¯ leader of our whole federation.¡± ¡°So you even went so far as to divvy up the responsibilities of the primary head of this hydra.¡± Ilunor replied with a fervent sigh. ¡°Cut one head, and two more appear.¡± He muttered under his breath. ¡°You really do seem to have an ample amount of free time on your hands, Earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor shot back with a side eye. ¡°If your people go through the effort of overcomplicating something that should be as straightforward as the rule of a single rightful ruler, then I can now see exactly where the time earned from those labor-saving artifices has gone to.¡± I blinked rapidly at the off-ramp Ilunor had just given me. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ exactly it, Ilunor.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°As I demonstrated earlier, our system thrives on such representation, seeing as the modern world emerged from mutual cooperation through the complexity born of those artifices, rather than an increasing consolidation of power by a group of mana users or mages.¡± ¡°More than that¡­¡± Thacea finally reentered the fray, her eyes trained not on me, but the projection that at this point had paused at the completion of the dam a good decade after it was started. ¡°That is simply the only possible means by which a mana-less realm could develop, Lord Rularia.¡± ¡°I beg your pardon-?¡± ¡°In a sea of voices wherein every citizen holds no traditional advantage over the other, there exists no room for stability through the consolidation of power, as there is no true practical means of consolidating that power in perpetuity. Thus, the more one tries to consolidate, the more unstable such a system becomes. As the keys to practical power, owing to a lack of mana, simply do not exist as we see it. Instead, everyone holds the keys to power through their unique insights and expertise necessary to keep civilization functioning. That¡¯s the entire point of this tangent. The entire point of Emma highlighting the sheer effort that went into the construction of this megastructure. It¡¯s the most visible means of demonstrating this divergence in our two systems.¡± ¡°So Emma¡¯s earlier comments of every commoner being more akin to a noble makes sense in this new context.¡± Thalmin pondered. ¡°Seeing as this is an electorate that comprises all, with all being responsible for the appointments of power.¡± The pair¡¯s parallel revelations sent a wave of relief through me, as the heavy lifting for this aspect of my presentation was carried now by an impromptu tag-teaming of minds. Ilunor seemed to stew on this for a little while, his eyes darting back and forth before finally landing on the dam once more. Which, now at its height, stood impressively above the rising ocean. ¡°Just¡­ just get on with it, Earthrealmer.¡± He managed out, prompting me to respond with a single nod of acknowledgement, pushing the projection further into the future. A future that was just about saved in the nick of time by the completed dam too, as water levels continued to rise further, but was constantly outpaced at every opportunity by increasingly complex additions to the dam and its surrounding flood barriers that spanned a good length of the North Eastern seaboard. Construction within the areas protected by the dam accelerated as well, and with this newfound immunity against the forces of nature, development all but exploded. Megatalls began their rise throughout the boroughs. Yet vertical development continued happening alongside more horizontal development as well, as off in the distance, both Newark and Long Island began all but matching the pace of NYC¡¯s unrelenting urban development. And despite another major pause in construction occurring sometime in the mid to late 22nd century courtesy of the First Intrasolar War, its conclusion brought about yet another veritable explosion of progress, culminating in the land extension and reclamation projects that extended both Manhattan and Brooklyn southwards, and the immediate development of that land into a region hosting almost exclusively megatall skyscrapers. Yet all of this progress finally came to a sudden and abrupt end in the mid 23rd century. But not by the hands of any great economic collapse, or a stunning military defeat, or even the wrath of nature itself. But by the very hands of those who called the city home. For as the mid 23rd century rolled around, so too did a fundamental shift begin within the city¡¯s organizational structure. As the incorporation of modern Acela was ratified, ushering in a new age of unified regional development, and by extension, the crystallization of NYC as it currently stood; for the sake of historical preservation. Developers were given new areas to develop, with guidelines on their height, design, and aesthetic becoming stricter the closer one reached the historic districts. And it showed. A revivalist movement in modernized art deco emerged, culminating in the border districts that marked the boundary where historic NYC ended and where Acela proper began. But just as with the two pauses in development that came before it, so too did development pause in the mid to late 23rd century, and once again 24th century owing to the final two conflicts that would rage within the solar system, before a half millennium of peace finally came to the solar system. From there, development finally hit a fever pitch. As far off in the distance, monolithic towers of immense proportions painted the horizon in a dizzying display of unprecedented progress. As each new ultratall and hypertall starscraper, accompanied by megatall skyscrapers, popped up, creating what appeared to be, at this vantage point, something more akin to blades of grass set against a finite horizon. Yet throughout this unprecedented development, with starscraper districts popping up every which way, Thacea seemed to be more focused on the developments in the clear blue skies. And it was clear she wasn¡¯t fixated on the shifting trends of subsonic jets transitioning over to their supersonic successors, followed closely by the SSTOs that barely changed in their aesthetics following the 25th century, but a barely visible, pale gray line that hung ominously overhead. I should¡¯ve known that with the words exchanged in the library, and with the avinor¡¯s gift of superhuman vision, that she would¡¯ve noticed one of the markers that gave away our development to realms beyond the confines of the planet. A marker difficult to spot in the perpetual daytime of the projection, but clear to those who knew what to look for, or those with vision beyond what was typical of a human. Earthring 2. So whilst Thalmin and Ilunor continued gazing upon the developments in the distant horizon, even noting the lowering water levels at one point, courtesy of the global weather control initiatives, Thacea¡¯s eyes were fixed on the hidden prize of the presentation. But as we slowly rounded back to the present, things finally came to a head at the construction of a building immediately beneath our feet, as construction cranes, drones, and on-site print-fabs filled in the empty space beneath us in a fraction of the time it took for the first megatalls to be constructed in Jersey City. ¡°And here we are.¡± I announced gleefully. ¡°Back to the present.¡± I gestured at what looked to be a small park that sat high above the city below. The city we¡¯d just seen built from the ground up. It looked¡­ so small from up here, from so high above. Yet in spite of the height, in spite of the grandeur of what was below, a sense of serenity could be felt. A calmness that resonated through the chiming of the windchimes, the chirping of the birds, and the skittering of more than a small handful of animals that existed within this carefully regulated ecosystem perched firmly atop one of the few ultratall scrapers at the mouth of the lower bay area. Thalmin didn¡¯t speak, his eyes did all the work for him as he stood there ruminating over the cityscape that sprawled below, and towered above. ¡°And I imagine we have only seen but a fraction of all there is to see.¡± Thacea followed up just as quickly, her eyes subtly darting between my own, and the skies above. ¡°Yeah. There¡¯s certainly a lot more to see, that¡¯s for sure.¡± I acknowledged, my words ringing different to the avinor who had already so clearly been given hints from our time in the library as to humanity¡¯s presence in the sea of stars. With all that being said, it¡¯s time to assess just how effective this exercise has been in addressing its major goals. Goals which hung ominously on the top right hand corner of my HUD. The dissemination of humanity¡¯s objective capabilities, and the invalidation of the false presumptions of humanity¡¯s perceived inferiority. And¡­ The clarification of false assumptions and pretenses on humanity¡¯s current sociopolitical structure. ¡°So, how are you taking things, Ilunor?¡± I finally turned towards the Vunerian who¡¯d instigated this whole trip through memory lane, now left standing with that signature hundred yard stare, and a jaw that hung slightly ajar. A few seconds passed, before the Vunerian gave his final answer. ¡°I hate Earthrealm.¡± Chapter 66: The Adversary ¡°I hate Earthrealm.¡± The Vunerian repeated once more, this time louder, and with greater conviction. Those words resonated at odds with the calm, and otherwise uncompromising serenity of the projection around us. In a sense, falling flat against the completely unassuming atmosphere, consisting primarily of the clear and high-pitched harmonics of the wind chimes, the rustling of the leaves of this rooftop park, and accompanied by the occasional interruption courtesy of the hustle and bustle of the city echoing far below and above us. The annoyed and disgruntled glare of the lupinor directed towards the deluxe kobold more or less cemented the inappropriate mismatch of words, and quickly demonstrated that not all were on the side of the Vunerian in his resolve. ¡°You stand against everything The Nexus upholds.¡± He continued unabashedly, unconcerned by the lupinor or any of the expressions he threw his way. ¡°How so, Ilunor?¡± I shot back questioningly, redirecting the flow of the conversation to something that might finally gauge the success of this whole Cross-Cultural Information Dissemination Exercise, and determining once and for all if the Vunerian had finally crossed the Information Dissemination Overflow Threshold. Or, for lack of a better term, if he¡¯d gone full IDiOT. Though, the diplomatic corps and their associated academics back at home preferred to keep the acronym to the more professional IDOV threshold, for reasons of ¡®maintaining academic register¡¯. ¡°How so?¡± He parrotted back in an indignant, almost condescending tone of voice. ¡°How so?!¡± He repeated, guffawing out a barely contained nervous laugh. ¡°Where do I even begin?! As a state, you are structured the wrong way up. As a polity, you are absurd. As an institution, you are seditious. And ultimately, as a civilization? You are preposterous. You are facilitated solely by mana-less contraptions that exist to mimic and parallel that which is the exclusive right of those preordained by fate and the hands of the eternal truths. You are a realm of madness, fueled by nothing but spite against your own mortal limitations, and-¡± ¡°-succeeding in spite of it.¡± Thalmin interrupted with a self-satisfied chuckle, crossing his arms as he just about cautioned himself against leaning his weight against a tree. Despite that, he still effortlessly loomed over the Vunerian. ¡°Or, more accurately to the themes of this whole venture, succeeding because of it.¡± ¡°Success is not just measured by the raw potential for creation, or the matching of capabilities, but by the longevity by which they are able to persevere.¡± Ilunor rebutted promptly, prompting me to finally reenter the fray with a self-satisfied smile brimming underneath my helmet. ¡°Success or not, you agree then, that this¡­ sight-seeing experience has been quite eye-opening?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to let out that little pun, if only to cool things down somewhat, as well as to provide for an off-ramp to the point I was leading up to. ¡°Eye opening, for all the wrong reasons, Earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor muttered out, not once shifting in his convictions, which could only mean one thing¡­ The presentation worked. ¡°For reasons that we can continue to work on in the future, I imagine. I¡¯m certain you still have quite a few questions-'''' I began offering, before being cut off by Thacea, and surprisingly the EVI, at just about the same time. ¡°-and not enough time to address them at present.¡± Thacea interjected, pulling out her timepiece, as if to emphasize her point. [Suggestion, Cadet Booker: disengage from instigating another line of questioning that could potentially lead to a no-win Cross-Cultural Information Dissemination (CCID) failure.] Both, surprisingly, were suggestions that led me to the same conclusion I was headed down anyway. A conclusion that even the Vunerian himself had preempted, if his response was of any indication. ¡°I do.¡± Ilunor stated in no uncertain terms. ¡°And I expect more next time as well. Especially from that.¡± He pointed at a few of the space planes rocketing across the skies, as well as the more visible intra-city VTOL craft that meandered from rooftop platform to rooftop platform. The fact that he¡¯d never once raised the issue of falsification or fakes following the walk through the city was a massive unspoken win. The fact he¡¯d moved the goalpost further along, now raising fundamental issues with how earthrealm works, rather than outright doubting earthrealm¡¯s existence, meant that whilst the Vunerian hadn¡¯t blatantly admitted it, he was now firmly in the believer camp. Although with a lot of personal grievances, and plenty of reservations over everything his mind had now accepted as truth. Though, the final say on that success could only be made by the raw and unfiltered logical machine that was the EVI. ¡°EVI, how are we looking?¡± ¡°Information Dissemination Overflow crisis with [Ilunor] has been averted, Cadet Booker. Moreover, Information Dissemination Overflow thresholds with [Thalmin, Thacea] are calculated to be within acceptable ranges. This Cross-Cultural Information Dissemination exercise is within the acceptable margins of success, calculated to be within a standard deviation of 0.02 as per SIOP CCID models.¡± ¡°Thanks, EVI.¡± ¡°Addendum, prior suggestion remains active.¡± ¡°Understood, I¡¯m disengaging now before I spoil the pot with too much of a good thing.¡± With a final affirmative beep from the EVI, I turned towards Ilunor with a confident nod. ¡°I look forward to being grilled on anything else you have on your mind, Ilunor. For now, just take notes or something until the next sight-seeing session. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find something to like, or at least, something to not hate.¡± I offered in that same polite, diplomatically inclined tone of voice, prompting the Vunerian to simply nod all the while responding with an impudent huff. ¡°I highly doubt I shall find anything worthy of fondness, Earthrealmer.¡± ¡°The fondness shall be in watching Nexian sensibilities be tested, I should say.¡± Thalmin chimed in cockily. Ilunor didn¡¯t take the bait, thankfully. Which prompted me to finally end this whole thing with another snap of my fingers, and a little blurb of caution to the group. ¡°You might feel a bit woozy with this being the first time, so just make sure to stare at the ground for a few short seconds as the projection winds down.¡± I offered politely, as the world around us slowly faded away to a featureless white, before breaking down chunk by chunk, until all that remained was the reality around us - the rotating ¡®arms¡¯ of the projector, and the blackout tarp just beyond it. Everyone remained uncharacteristically silent as the machine wound down, and the whirring of the motors rang out in that titular whoooooshhhhhh before dying down with a satisfying ka-thunk, locking in place, ready for disassembly. At around the same time, a small ding at the top right hand corner of my HUD suddenly made the existence of a new collapsible folder known, and my two-second gaze was all the prompting it needed to simply explode. Revealing what amounted to a nestled death-stack worth of notifications that¡¯d been subtly hidden from view up to this point. Most, or rather, all of them being mana radiation warnings that had either been muted by my orders earlier, such as during my confrontation with the dean, or warnings that had occurred after the fact without my prompting. The most notable of which being the latest blip of mana radiation, corresponding to the start of my little presentation. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°I have taken preemptive measures to minimize the disruptive effects of mana-radiation notifications on your operations, Cadet Booker. Following prior prompting, I have begun the process of categorizing and subsequently delineating pertinent radiation warnings from warnings of a lower-threat categorization threshold.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I responded. ¡°It¡¯s part of your user-adaptive mission profile, right?¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± ¡°Okay then, next time, prompt me before changing something like that.¡± ¡°Affirmative, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Quick question, Thacea.¡± I finally sprung up, just as the group was beginning to leave the confines of the blackout tent. ¡°Yes, Emma?¡± ¡°Have you been projecting those¡­ privacy fields this entire time?¡± ¡°Yes, is there an issue in-¡± ¡°No, no. Just checking.¡± I acknowledged, prompting Thacea to crane her head in confusion for just a moment as I mentally took stock of that little development. We eventually found ourselves out of the little blackout tent, arriving in a room that was comparably dark, if only because the sun had finally set following the amount of time we¡¯d spent in-sim. ¡°Wow.¡± I began with a small chuckle. ¡°I hadn¡¯t expected to pull another one of those so soon. I half thought that I¡¯d left dawn-to-dusk immersive gaming sessions behind when I stepped through that portal. I guess life has a way of bringing back your hobbies in roundabout ways huh?¡± ¡°Immersive experiences and hobbies for that matter, can have a way of eating away at your time.¡± Thalmin responded with a matching chuckle, skipping the off-handed gaming comment altogether, all the while stretching his arms and bending his torso from side to side. ¡°Speaking of immersive experiences, I would like to point out that future presentations won¡¯t come without a price.¡± I continued with a certain sly look on my face, not that any of the gang could see it. ¡°My mission, or rather, what my people have always intended my mission to be is one of cross cultural exchange. Exchange being the operative word here. I came here in order to foster relations, and to learn. So, if you guys are up for it, I¡¯d love to see and hear more of your worlds, your unique cultural perspectives, and your ways of life.¡± I quickly added, defusing the rather ominous statement I started out with. Thalmin was the first to react to this with a look of genuine surprise, followed by a smile, and a look of appreciation that seemed sudden but not entirely out of place. ¡°That can be arranged.¡± He announced confidently, followed by a nod from the princess, and a shrug of acknowledgement from Ilunor. ¡°But why?¡± Ilunor shot back emphatically, before just as quickly closing the gap by making it clear that the question was nothing but rhetorical in nature. ¡°Do you see your realm as so lacking in culture, that you would wish to learn from those who have clearly succeeded where you have fallen short?¡± ¡°No, Ilunor, that¡¯s not it at all.¡± I replied with a tired breath. ¡°My people are simply curious, and with this being as close to the next and final frontier for my kind, it¡¯s only natural that I want to learn more at every given opportunity. Speaking of which, I was actually planning on making this a weekly tradition of sorts. A means of strengthening the bond between our peer group, and perhaps our realms.¡± I offered, once again, propping up an off-ramp for the conversation. A conversation that Ilunor was clearly trying to incite conflict within, fostered by his current progress on the five stages of grief, with denial now firmly passed, and anger currently out on full display. ¡°A weekly tradition eh?¡± Thalmin pondered with a rub of his chin, before nodding soon after. ¡°I can most certainly commit to that idea.¡± ¡°If only to see more of what this realm of debauchery has to offer, to see the cracks slowly form in the facade of your unsightly creations, then I tentatively subscribe to these terms; without the ties that bind.¡± Ilunor followed shortly thereafter. Which now left Thacea, who simply let out a polite sigh. ¡°I do not hold anything against such a venture, Emma. However, I wish to emphasize the fact that this arrangement must be non-committal in nature. As when factoring in both our academic, and personal duties, this exercise in cross-cultural exchange should be considered an addendum rather than a fixed goal.¡± ¡°So a sidequest between our major questlines, gotcha.¡± I acknowledged with an understanding nod, prompting Thalmin to cackle somewhat, and Thacea to simply stare back at me with little in the way of acknowledgement, as if waiting for me to tackle it in greater severity. ¡°In all seriousness, I completely understand, Thacea. I know we have both the house choosing ceremony and the town trip for school supplies coming up this weekend.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Coupled with your quest for the amethyst dragon, and Ilunor¡¯s library debts, it would seem as if we have a week that should prove to be challenging to start off with.¡± She quickly added, reminding me more of the EVI now with the relentless reminder of responsibilities I still had to tackle with. ¡°Alright. Well, should an opening in our time slots emerge, we¡¯ll finagle in our weekly exchanges. But until then, our duties come first. Is that okay with everyone?¡± I announced, eliciting a firm nod from all parties. ¡°And on that note, I believe it is time that we all finally retire for the night.¡± Thacea politely added, once again pulling out her timepiece for added effect. A little mana notification ping quickly made itself known in the newly-created folder on the corner of my HUD, a new feature the EVI had seemingly made in response to my earlier confrontation. ¡°I agree, this entire venture into the obscene has gone on for long enough.¡± Ilunor promptly announced, before turning tail and prancing towards the door with a flourish of his mauve cape. ¡°I bid you goodnight, Princess Dilani.¡± He gave a typical closing nod to his fellow noble then turned to acknowledge me with a look of tired and begrudging acknowledgement. "And you, Cadet Emma Booker. This has been¡­ a conflicting state of affairs to say the very least, and I wish for my noble sleep prior to tomorrow¡¯s classes.¡± The little blue thing left with an expected slam of the door, prompting Thalmin to follow shortly thereafter, but not before turning towards both me and Thacea with a confident smile. ¡°Whatever happens next, I wish to reaffirm my commitment to this peer group, and the special arrangements we have made. I look forward to seeing how this week progresses, Emma. And I thank you, Thacea, for having kept a careful overwatch over all the proceedings thus far. Goodnight, and may the guiding light of hunter¡¯s wisdom stay your hand with the teachings of the hunt. Afis Fita.¡± And just like that, we were once again alone. The expected return of the whirring of my machines never manifesting, all thanks to Thacea¡¯s noise suppressing magic. A brief sigh only audible within my helmet punctuated that bout of silence, as exhaustion from that continuous hours-long presentation on humanity suddenly hit me with the force of a truck. ¡°Emma.¡± I heard the familiar chirp of Thacea¡¯s more informal tone of voice bubbling to the surface, breaking through that layer of exhaustion as I felt compelled to respond without a second thought. ¡°Yes, Thacea?¡± ¡°There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.¡± She stated politely, a regalness coloring her voice with an authoritative undertone, prompting me to nod and follow as she plopped herself on the couch at the edges of the blackout tent. ¡°The projection you presented, and the manaless wonders shown within, are but a glimpse and nothing more I¡¯m assuming?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded promptly. ¡°But there¡¯s a reason for that. What I introduced the pair to, and to an extent yourself as well Thacea, was a crash course on our realm¡¯s history. It was, decidedly, reductive by nature.¡± I acknowledged, prompting the avinor to nod once in reply, as she gestured for me to continue. ¡°But given the sheer breadth and depth of my world¡¯s history, I had to start somewhere, even if that somewhere was a relatively narrow sliver. I did at least try my best to capture what I believed were some of the best, but also most mundane elements, my world had to offer.¡± ¡°And yet your best and mundane was, by every measure, a perfect counter to the crownlands proper.¡± Thacea responded with a stark sense of firmness, before leading off into another tangent. ¡°But that is beside the point. The matter I wish to raise is something that lurks beyond the obvious. We have a saying in my realm, Emma. A saying that doesn¡¯t necessarily translate to High Nexian, but that I feel is fitting of this conversation. For as rich and as expansive as the blue skies above are to those of the flighted flock, so too does a richer and perhaps even more expansive world exist just beneath the waves which reflect it. This saying stems from those of my kind, the other races of my own species that are capable of diving deep beneath the waves; in the northern kingdoms, and in the coastal constituent principalities. There, they tell tales of great beasts, and unseen wonders lurking just below where the light cannot penetrate. I have a feeling that this old adage applies to our current situation, Emma. For there exists so much more far beneath the depths where the light cannot penetrate. Or, in your case¡­¡± The princess¡¯ voice shifted, her eyes now piercing straight to my own. ¡°... where the boundaries of the skies themselves cease.¡± I knew where this was going, and I had no intention of halting the inevitable. ¡°I assume you are referring to the long thin strip visible from beneath the skies of the projection?¡± Thacea¡¯s eyes momentarily lit up at this. ¡°Correct, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged, seemingly satisfied at my frankness, her expressions always seeming to be relieved with each passing response. As if a lifetime of wishy washy expectant decorum conversations had probably predisposed her to assuming that every response and every question was bound to be a meaningless serving of word soup. ¡°For there exists no natural phenomenon, no matter how bizarre, especially in a mana-less world without magic and its associated anomalies, that can explain away an object looming just beyond the reaches of the skies. And for such a structure to exist, to remain aloft the heads of untold millions, implies there must be something far greater at work. So tell me, Emma. What exactly was up there beyond the reaches of the heavens? What has your kind done to have changed, perhaps in permanence, the very sightlines above your heads?¡± ¡°You recall what I told the library, right?¡± ¡°That your kind has, and I quote: raced to expand across the heavens? That you have likewise taken your tentative first steps across the stars? That your kind¡¯s destiny was always to cross the distance of oceans? Whether that be oceans of water or oceans of stars?¡± Thacea, surprisingly, parroted back everything I had spoken of to the librarian, prompting me to momentarily pause out of a sense of shock at her picture-perfect recall ability. ¡°Am I to assume that this thin gray line is but a stepping stone in that venture?¡± ¡°It is, Thacea. Or well, it was built well after we took our first firm steps on our stellar back yard.¡± ¡°So you acknowledge then, that this fixture above the skies is in fact a structure of your making?¡± She reiterated, as if trying to overcome the sheer disbelief still welling beneath the surface. ¡°Yes. But honestly, it¡¯s a bit clearer and considerably more obvious at night. The projections were locked to daylight for a reason, and it was to avoid the other two becoming a bit too curious about something they might find difficult to believe at first. Especially when given everything else they had to acknowledge.¡± ¡°That was a wise decision on your part, Emma.¡± ¡°So with that being said¡­ Do you want to see our skies at night? Just for a bit, before getting some well deserved sleep?¡± A small pause once more punctuated the conversation, as Thacea¡¯s eyes deliberated this offer with precise intent, following it up in short order with the only appropriate response to such an offer. ¡°I believe we have half an hour to spare, yes.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Ilunor and Thalmin¡¯s Bedroom. Local Time: 21:20 Hours. Thalmin I¡¯d left Emma and Thacea¡¯s apartment, and more specifically that sight-seer experience, with a certain level of¡­ disbelief. Shock, for all intents and purposes, welled within me. But that was nothing if not tempered by a newly found resolve to consider the potentials of a contrarian worldview that prompted me to question everything I knew. That feeling of smallness was, simply put, never followed up on. For unlike those crownlands visits via sight-seer, there was no expectant followup. No acknowledgement of superiority, no humbling acts of fealty. There was nothing from the Nexian playbook of browbeating following a superior show of force. In fact, there was the exact opposite. A desire to exchange further information. As if my realm had any that could truly matter to what earthrealm had to offer. Yet despite that, the offer was there, genuine, and without any strings attached. Something the Nexus would never do. Something the Nexus would consider poor play by their rulebook. These thoughts, and more, were however rudely interrupted by the small blue thing exiting the bathroom clothed in a series of exorbitantly priced robes, as he turned towards me, whilst plopping himself against a couch two sizes too large for him. Still, it looked as if it was made for him given how comfortable he seemed atop its plush adornments. Yet that comfort seemed to do little to ease the frustrations of what was clearly welling within. Frustrations which eventually bubbled to the surface in the form of what the little blue thing was known for. Whining. ¡°The absolute gall of that newrealmer to have taken it upon herself to¡­ to¡­¡± ¡°To purport the truth of a world that dares challenge Nexian primacy by virtue of their mere existence?¡± ¡°I beg your pardon, Prince Thalmin?¡± ¡°You heard me, and you saw it too, did you not?¡± ¡°All I saw were spiteful testaments belonging to a race that knew not their own limitations. Wanting for more, constructing a travesty, refusing reason, and embracing madness.¡± ¡°And yet despite it all, they surpassed those limitations without so much as the usage of a single vial of mana.¡± I stated bluntly, prompting the Vunerian to go silent, which I took to my advantage for my own amusement. ¡°I wonder then¡­ since Earthrealm is in so many ways comparable to the illustriousness of the crownlands, how may this affect the balance of powers? For if primacy is proven to be faulty, then what becomes of the status eternia-¡± ¡°You will halt any such seditious postulations, Prince Thalmin.¡± ¡°But what if, Ilunor?¡± ¡°Then what you speak of is the final confrontation.¡± ¡°The what?¡± Those words seemed to frustrate the Vunerian, as he responded with an irksome gaze. ¡°The arrival of this foreign culture, born of foreign constraints, nurtured in the auspices of foreign patrons, bringing about fundamental axiomatic shifts that would threaten the eternal sanctity of civilization. The manner in which you are describing earthrealm, and the disruption which you speak of, would place them firmly into the role of the adversary, the great other.¡± ¡°If that is what I speak of, then I suppose it may very well be the destiny of Earthrealm, Lord Rularia.¡± I acknowledged, humoring the Vunerian with a dry chuckle. ¡°This is not a laughing matter, Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor rebutted immediately, not allowing for a moment of dead silence to hang in the air. ¡°What I speak of is a true prophecy, an¡­ inconvenient truth.¡± He reiterated, prompting me to reassess his entire angle as my perspective shifted from merely humoring the Vunerian, to actively listening to his newfound points. ¡°So I ask, do you, or do you not believe Earthrealm to be capable of challenging the status eternia?¡± ¡°Would the existence of a realm that rivals the crownlands in almost every metric, without the aid of mana, arriving as a newrealm with no contact to the greater community, be considered a challenge to Crownlands Primacy, Ilunor?¡± The Vunerian paused for a moment, before begrudgingly, agreeing with a slight hiss. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And would a challenge to primacy, equate to a challenge to the Status Eternia?¡± ¡°The former does not always lead to the latter, Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor responded reflexively, if only to pause and reassess his statement. ¡°But if you are insinuating that to be the case, then I am assuming your answer to my question is that Earthrealm is in fact, capable of challenging the status eternia.¡± ¡°Your words, Lord Rularia.¡± I responded diplomatically. ¡°Not mine.¡± ¡°In which case, I must ask you then, Prince Thalmin¡­¡± Ilunor trailed off, his features shifting from a contemptuous look of frustration, to one that could be tentatively described as thoughtful. ¡°Yes?¡± I urged the Vunerian. ¡°Please get on with it, Ilunor.¡± ¡°I wish to know where you stand when the calls for apocalypse summon the righteous, Prince Thalmin?¡± The Vunerian announced completely out of nowhere, taking me by surprise, but that was more than likely the intent of that abrupt shift in subject matter. ¡°I wish to know, should your assertions bear truth, and should the newrealm move from a position of a mere contemporary to one of an active adversary - where shall your loyalties lie?¡± ¡°My loyalties shall forever lie with my people, my family, and my kin, Lord Rularia.¡± ¡°And should Earthrealm propose an offer for an alternative to the status quo?¡± ¡°My loyalties shall remain the same. I will do what is best for my people. That is the end of the matter, Lord Rularia.¡± I answered with a tempered tone of voice, memories from the proving den resurfacing to grant me the instincts to play the role of the measured diplomat once more. ¡°A diplomat¡¯s answer.¡± Ilunor scoffed. ¡°I cannot blame you, Prince Thalmin. But be warned, there are consequences to those that disrupt the tempo of the status eternia.¡± I ignored that empty threat completely, circumventing it with a question that was poised to strike deep into the heart of the Vunerian himself. ¡°And what of you, Lord Rularia? Where will you stand should the calls for apocalypse divide the realms once more?¡± The Vunerian, surprisingly, went quiet. Whether it was his shock at my question, or whether this was him actually giving the question pause for thought, was anyone¡¯s guess. The surprising fact was that the latter was even a possibility in the first place. ¡°With civility, Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor finally responded with a resolute breath. ¡°With civilization, and the side that stands for the protection of what we have built. For despite what my words and my actions might lead you to believe, I genuinely do subscribe to the axioms of civilization. I will not allow the sacrifices of my ancestors to be in vain, Prince Thalmin. So whatever happens next, be it in a week, a month, a year, or a decade, remember that the decisions we make today, will ultimately carry on through to the descendants of tomorrow. The unbroken chain shall remain unbroken.¡± ¡°Hence why you are shackled by the past, Lord Rularia.¡± I replied back with a hushed breath. ¡°Remember that the tempo of history is not truly eternal. Your kind were once servants, today you are rulers, what might tomorrow bring? Greater heights? Or depreciating depths? As you said, Ilunor. We are at a crossroads. Perhaps now is the time to choose your standing, and the manner in which you conduct yourself following these disruptions in the tempo of eternity.¡± A great silence befell us once more, as Ilunor seemed to actually ponder my words. It was around that same time that I too started thinking long and hard on the implications of Ilunor¡¯s supposed ¡®prophecy¡¯, and for a few short moments¡­ I actually began to ponder the possibilities of Earthrealm¡¯s palpable challenge over the claim of Nexian primacy. ¡°This has been¡­ an interesting night, for all of us I imagine; Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor began, as he got back to his feet, placing both hands behind his back in perfect posture. ¡°I hope you will consider my words and the warnings which lie therein, with the severity it deserves, as I know deep within those layers of fur lies a man of civility. But for now, I bid you a restful night.¡± The Vunerian quickly scampered after that, up the stairs, and towards his bed. This left me with a series of newfound questions I hadn¡¯t anticipated, all culminating in one single thought that summed up this entire night well. What happens next? Chapter 67: A Princess and a Knight We returned to what was for all intents and purposes, the closest thing to a portal to earth, reentering the blackout tent in tentative silence. The entire space was quieter, more relaxed, as the burden of balancing belief from disbelief was removed from my shoulders, now replaced with only a giddy desire to show what was already accepted as fact by the sole patron of this cinematic experience. The princess¡¯ eyes glistened and widened as the whirr of the projector arms reached its peak, hitting its operating speeds at about the same time its movements became an indistinct blurr. A white and featureless void quickly enveloped the pitch-black confines of the blackout tent, and with it came the return of a world that was just as fantastical to those in this realm of fantasy, as their realm of swords and sorcery was to us. Chunk by chunk, the space was carefully filled in. The white void being replaced by the exact frame of view that we¡¯d ended on not a few moments earlier - the rooftop park. The surround sound audio courtesy of Kolby Digital followed soon after, prompting the princess¡¯ feathers to ruffle, if only for a fraction of a second. ¡°Sorry.¡± I started off sheepishly. ¡°No, no. It¡¯s quite alright.¡± Thacea responded promptly. ¡°I¡¯m assuming there¡¯s probably some¡­ sensory confusion going on right? Judging by what Thalmin stated earlier, your sight-seers seem to have the ability to replicate a truly fully immersive experience, meaning smell and physical sensation probably accompany sights and sounds.¡± ¡°That is correct, Emma.¡± The avinor nodded. ¡°Which means only having some elements of the world rather than all of it, is probably going to cause a bit of sensory confusion. Such as in the case of hearing the wind without actually feeling the wind.¡± I half-pondered, more or less letting my thoughts take control of the conversation if only for a moment, as Thacea confirmed my suspicions with another tactful nod. ¡°Yes, however, the physical senses are but one aspect of the¡­ disorientation stemming from a conflict of the senses. There is also the lack of a replicable mana-stream to consider. Which colors your sight-seer in an almost lifeless haze.¡± The princess expressed with a blunt honesty that was both surprising and refreshing in equal measures. ¡°Heh, well, there¡¯s not much I can do about that I suppose. But thankfully it seems like the other two took it quite well, despite the ¡®shortcomings¡¯ of the projector, and what¡¯s probably going to be seen by most as the reddest of red flags when it comes to the believability of the whole thing.¡± ¡°The fact that the pair have had a full week of constant and unrepentant exposure to your manaless artifices may have aided in the suspension of disbelief.¡± Thacea reasoned. ¡°Moreover, the delivery of information in a reductive and generalized manner, targeting the core controversies of a world of manaless predispositions, more than likely worked out for the better.¡± ¡°The manaless thing was something we needed to clear up right off the bat, so that was my intent yeah. You gotta break through false preconceptions before addressing finer particularities.¡± I shrugged. ¡°But reasoning aside, let¡¯s skip the business and work analytics to get to the heart of why we¡¯re here.¡± I announced excitedly, gesturing to the skies above us, and the thin gray line that hovered above our heads ominously. With a wordless nod of approval from Thacea, I snapped my fingers once more, the EVI helpfully adding in the sounds of a snap to compensate for the auditory encumbrance of the glove. The world soon began to shift shortly after. But instead of immediately swapping over to night, the EVI chose to gradually shift the time of day hour by hour, as the sun above us gradually began its journey across the skies, hopefully mitigating any sensory whiplash the sudden shift to night would¡¯ve otherwise caused. This allowed the both of us to relax as the white noise that was the city¡¯s constant hustle and bustle faded into the distance, superimposed instead by the wind chimes of the rooftop park. ¡°EVI, some music? Start playlist: hifi beats to relax to, please.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± Soon enough, the windchimes themselves were gradually replaced by the soft and cheery tunes of woodwinds and acoustic guitars playing a cover of some 29th century pop song. The music started up in sync to the arrival of a faceless band, the integrated omnidirectional audio system not simply playing the music over top of us like some cheap 25th century holo, but actually taking into account the perceived ¡®source¡¯ of the music, and directing the audio accordingly. The faceless group, dressed in an assortment of eclectic clothes typical of your public patronage sponsored musical indie group, serenaded the arrival of the orange and red sunset over the harbor, as the ¡®lightshow¡¯ that was the city¡¯s transition from day to night truly began, with district after district lighting up in a brilliant display of artificial colors from fluorescent-white, to daytona-oranges, and everything in between; beating back the night with the power of electricity. Thacea¡¯s eyes, whilst fixated on the skies above, occasionally looked over towards the recent additions to the scene, namely the band, and the rapidly brightening city. But just before night properly fell, her eyes shifted towards one of the park benches, as she gestured towards it with a polite, amicable smile. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose we can watch the sun setting from there, Emma?¡± I blinked rapidly, cocking my head in confusion. ¡°Unfortunately, the limitations of the projection means that everything you see isn¡¯t actually physically interactable-¡± I paused, interrupted by another surge of mana radiation that was dutifully reported to me courtesy of the newly-implemented mana radiation notification hub. Thacea walked wordlessly soon after towards the bench just to the right of us, and sat down. Her body¡­ actually making contact with the hologram. It took me a few seconds to actually figure out what was happening. But it didn¡¯t take me long to realize the clever use of magic here. And the strange marriage of technologically derived scenery and magically-derived physicality that came together to add just that extra level of immersiveness that wouldn¡¯t have been possible before. ¡°This is exceedingly clever, Thacea.¡± I acknowledged with a smile, prompting the Princess to simply crane her head towards me, nodding and gesturing at the empty space next to her on the park bench. ¡°You know, I was almost going to suggest that we sit on the floor before you pulled this stunt.¡± ¡°That would have been completely unacceptable, Emma.¡± Thacea responded, her tone bordering somewhere between being offended and openly chastising me for even suggesting that. But just as quickly as those words were uttered, so too did the followup come, lacking any of that royal indignancy that¡¯d come before. ¡°Of course, you would not have known that to be unacceptable given our cultural differences, so I do apologize for any insinuation of a lack of tact on your part.¡± ¡°None taken, Princess. I admit, it would¡¯ve been of extremely poor taste for me to have even offered that to a noble, let alone a princess no less.¡± I responded with a cheeky smile. ¡°So I do beg for your forgiveness, your grace.¡± I offered out teasingly. Thacea¡¯s features visibly shifted at that, her feathers ruffling, and her gaze immediately averting from me as if she¡¯d been immediately flustered by that little jab. If she had cheeks to blush with, I was more than certain she¡¯d have transitioned from bird of prey to cockatiel right about now, what with their signature bright-orange and red cheeks. ¡°I assure you, Emma, there is no need for such requests for amnesty, I truly did not wish to imply-¡± ¡°No no, you¡¯re fine Thacea. I meant that in jest.¡± I interrupted with an awkward chuckle, raising both of my hands up for added effect as I attempted to defuse the very situation I¡¯d incited. Though it was soon to become clear that wouldn¡¯t have been necessary at all. Because the simple act of sitting down would more or less act as the off-ramp for this whole awkwardness. By bringing in some new awkwardness to focus on. As the moment I attempted to sit down on the seemingly solid bench courtesy of Thacea¡¯s magic, I was met not by the reassuring sturdiness of a seat, but by nothing at all. My heart immediately dropped to my stomach. And before I could even properly react, I was hit with that familiar feeling you get when you miss a step on a flight of stairs. With it, came the titular - oh shit oh crap oh no! - followed not a half second later by a loud metallic - ka-klank! - as I just narrowly avoided hitting the rails just a helmet¡¯s length away from me. Thacea¡¯s flustered expressions immediately vanished, replaced instead by confusion, concern, and realization in that order, followed up closely in tow by an apologetic look of worry as she spoke. ¡°I should have known-¡± ¡°No.¡± I began, picking myself up with little effort. ¡°I should¡¯ve known.¡± I offered with an awkward chuckle. ¡°Your suit is comprised up of a mana-resistant material, thus nullifying any pure-mana derived spells.¡± Thacea surmised. ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°Which explains why you simply¡­ fell through a telekinetically derived solid-plane.¡± The princess reasoned, as she conjured up something else entirely. Another mana radiation alert landed across my HUD. This one, seemingly being completely novel. As the OG alert landed across my HUD, without being immediately relegated to the shadow realm that was the notifications folder. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 250% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°What?¡± I turned towards the bench, which¡­ visually, was indistinct from before. ¡°I am¡­ testing out a theory as it were, Emma. Provided of course that you are willing to try again?¡± I obliged with a curious nod of my head, sitting down once more, anticipating another fall¡­ which never came. Instead, by some miracle, I felt resistance against my bottom half, though it was shoddy, and felt as if it¡¯d give in at any second; which prompted me to switch tactics as I attempted to force the suit to carry its own weight in this awkward position, spreading the load between this newfound cushion of air beneath me, and the various actuators and locking mechanisms of my suit. ¡°I am using a physical intermediary, Emma.¡± Thacea finally explained. ¡°Considering mana itself cannot affect you by virtue of your suit¡¯s mana-resistant properties, I elected instead to use a physical property, shaped through mana. This being a pocket of air acting as a cushion beneath you.¡± ¡°That explains why it feels real cushy and floaty. I¡¯m assuming this is a new spell I haven¡¯t seen before right? Air¡­ bending?¡± I replied, prompting Thacea to nod as we finally settled in just in time for the sun to fully set. With that awkwardness behind us now, we allowed the music from the band, the rustling of the leaves, and the various noises from the carefully tailored parkland creatures around us to usher in the arrival of the night. Both of our eyes were now transfixed not on the city around us, but the skies that hung above us. As what Thacea had suspected, what her avian eyes had fixated on prior, finally peaked through the few stray clouds being simulated; its lights growing brighter and brighter the further into the night we went¡­ until finally, it revealed itself in all of its artificial glory. That thin gray line had, by virtue of the darkness of the night, transformed from a mere point of discrepancy set against a cloudless blue sky into a fixture of the night itself. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Set against the light of the city, it almost looked as if the artificial lights of the earth had somehow climbed upwards towards the heavens, forming an impossibly long line that stretched from one side of the horizon, over top of our heads, and landing somewhere behind us on the other side of the horizon. This bedazzling display of lights that twinkled brighter than any star above the city seemed to capture the avinor in a trance, as she sat there, her back completely straight, and her body unmoving whilst the stars above acted as a sort of backdrop that gave Earthring 2 that extra sense of depth and closeness. Its form and structure seemingly ¡®framed¡¯ by both the darkness of space, and the brightness of the stars; giving it a sense of closeness which hinted at its true proximity to earth. A fact which became all the more obvious the longer one sat and squinted at the finer details of its form, as several details popped out upon closer inspection. From its two indentations that ran parallel to one another along its main superstructure, to the industrial zones nestled within which helped to spare contemporary earth from the strains of heavy and dirty industry, this man-made extension to Earth¡¯s reach was all but highlighted for Thacea to see. Moreover, unlike the stars that twinkled every few seconds, Earthring¡¯s lights remained consistently bright and unyielding. The effects of its closeness granted it this almost otherworldly prominence as it simply sat there, staring down on the earth below, and acting as a consistent reminder of humanity¡¯s permanent influence on the space beyond the confines of the homeworld. Minutes passed as the acoustics and strings of the band were accompanied by the synth of electronic pianos and the jamming of tambourines, before finally, it reached its climax; culminating in a jazzy sing-along by all the members of the band. ¡°Stars above¡­¡± Thacea managed out under a hoarse whisper, after a good few minutes of utter silence, serenaded dutifully by the band. ¡°And this¡­ this is only part of its circumference, isn¡¯t it?¡± I was taken aback by that question, doing a complete double take as Thacea looked on at me expectantly for an answer. ¡°Yes.¡± I managed out truthfully. ¡°But how did you-¡± ¡°It spans across the horizon, Emma.¡± She traced the lit-up line from one end of the horizon to the other behind us. ¡°This must mean it wraps around your world.¡± Questions started erupting in my head left and right, questions of just how far the avinor¡¯s knowledge on their world actually extended to given the Nexus¡¯ meddling, but all of those thoughts were quelled when I realized that Thacea¡¯s kind were capable of flight¡­ which meant such things would¡¯ve been a given to them. ¡°Yeah, it does. Though that¡¯s just part of it. What you see above your head right now is EarthRing 2. The additional offshoot of EarthRing 1.¡± Thacea¡¯s expressions did not shift from that look of absolute disbelief as she let out a slow sigh of acknowledgement. ¡°So your kind¡­ have done this before¡­ and succeeded.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I answered with a confident nod. ¡°And we¡¯ve done so around other stellar bodies as well.¡± I allowed that to sink in for a few moments, allowing the silence to be taken up by the swells of the music, before continuing. ¡°As I told the library before Thacea, my kind has braved the inhospitable depths that lie beyond the heavens, and chose to thrive within its hostile conditions. Making the inhospitable, hospitable, by constructing and confining ourselves artificial bubbles of hospitable environments. In a way, we¡¯re taking a bit of home everywhere we go.¡± ¡°Such as the tent you have brought to the Nexus, and the suit you are currently trapped within.¡± Thacea reasoned. ¡°Correct.¡± I nodded. ¡°The spirit of adventure, of pioneering exploration for the sake of discovery, is innate to our kind.¡± I reasoned, prompting a small smile to form along the edges of the avian¡¯s beak. ¡°And so too ours, Emma.¡± She acknowledged with a swell of optimism, only tempered by what she would say next. ¡°At least, prior to the Nexian reformations.¡± There was another silence that punctuated that shift in tone, as Thacea let out a sigh of conflicting emotions. ¡°There are stories, kept within oral tradition within my tainted line, of knowledge of the abyss that envelops our world. We once had at least an inkling of what you speak of, and an intense fascination with breaking into that abyss, through the barrier that exists beyond the envelope of flight. It just so happens that we first developed the ability to pierce the space between realities before we were able to pierce the barrier between the skies and the abyss that lies beyond it.¡± There was¡­ so much to unpack just from those statements alone, as I found myself the one that was questioning the nature of the narrative of things, instead of it being just Thacea to do so. It was clear now that the both of us were experiencing a world of revelations as we sat against the hologram, looking up at what lay beyond. ¡°Thank you, Emma, for showing me that those distant dreams, at least in one adjacent realm, have become a tangible reality. The whisps and echoes of a lost generation, may now finally rest knowing that their wild theories and eccentric aspirations were, in fact, not made in vain.¡± Thacea managed out thoughtfully, through an emotional breath as she leaned closer towards both me and the stars, her eyes transfixed on that which no longer was an intangible dream. ¡°Thank you, for showing me that fantastical lands can still exist beyond the confines of the magical world.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Emma and Thacea¡¯s bedroom. Local Time: 23:20 Hours. Emma Our stargazing went on for far longer than I¡¯d anticipated. But not a single one of those minutes was time that I¡¯d trade for anything else. Even if the rest of that time was spent in silence, Thacea perhaps being too lost in her thoughts to truly commit to anything else of note she wanted to ask or discuss. Which was, probably, for the better. Considering those conversations could¡¯ve led us down so many rabbit holes; jumping-off points best reserved for when we embarked on our trips to EarthRing itself, and the planets that lay beyond. More to the point, there was still the issue of the reports I had to file. And considering everything that¡¯s happened thus far, there was going to be a lot of write ups to do. ¡°Alright, better get this over with before things inevitably get real busy tomorrow.¡± I spoke to no one but myself as I moved to situate one of the foldable chairs in front of the field desk. Soon enough, I had myself a setup that would make a TSEC officer proud, with holographic virtual displays and environmental readouts appearing shortly thereafter following a quick donning of my augmented reality glasses. There, the EVI had more or less loaded up the same HUD-view from my helmet. Except this time, there were a total of three distinct virtual-monitors confined to the desk-space, acting as my windows into the reality of a modern officer¡¯s life - military bureaucracy. ¡°Bring up the weekly report form, EVI.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Query: IAS, LREF, or UNA, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Right.¡± I mentally chastised myself. ¡°They all require their own submission pathways don¡¯t they?¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Right, I¡¯m giving priority to the IAS report form. Then, the LREF. The contents of the two should be easy enough to transplant into the UNA¡¯s form.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± The EVI responded affirmatively, pulling up all of the forms that were, thankfully, already partially filled-in by the EVI. All of those sections consisted of the complex sensor readings, and the pertinent scientific findings, accounting for a good eighty to ninety percent of the docs. ¡°And here I thought you¡¯d refused to help me.¡± I teased, referencing the EVI¡¯s response to my pleas for help with the reports from an earlier conversation at Sorecar¡¯s workshop. ¡°I was referring to what is explicitly the Mission Commander¡¯s section of the report, Cadet Booker.¡± I nodded affirmatively at that. All that there was left for me to do now, was to file in my section of the report¡­ and perhaps review some of the datasets the EVI had filled in. ¡°Alright, here goes nothing.¡± Dear Diary, ¡°Cadet Booker, that is improper-¡± ¡°I know, I was just joking around there, EVI.¡± I offered with a teasing chuckle, before deleting that affront to academic register and professional cadence, and beginning the real report. EXTERNAL CORRESPONDENCE - UNSA - IAS - MISSION COMMANDER¡¯S REPORT BENEATH DEMARCATED LINE¡­ Preamble: Exoreality threshold successfully crossed. Sole agent and de facto mission commander status is nominal [REFER TO EVI CROSS-ANALYSIS CONFIRMATION HERE]. Mana-resistant equipment remains nominal. Contact established with designated handlers and representatives of the local authority. Local authorities belonging to the sole-contact prior to mission onset known as NEXUS to be preemptively and tentatively considered hostile, though full analysis is pending, and primary datasets to be compiled and compressed. Theft of the ECS was noted by a confirmed representative of the NEXUS, and subsequent anti-tampering countermeasures were activated following a failure to reclaim and defuse within the allotted time. New priority mission to take precedence: reconstruction of the ECS utilizing local exotic materials. Discovery of new polities distinct and separate from NEXUS has been made; full details to follow within the report. New polities are to be referred to by the local designator: ADJACENT REALMS. Threat assessment pending, more data is needed. Diplomatic channels have been opened with two, potentially three, ADJACENT REALMS via representatives with direct familial ties to incumbent dynastic ruling families; full details to follow within the report. Surveys of NEXUS to be-
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Betreyan¡¯s Hall. Local time: 23:25. Professor Vanavan. Blue-Robed Assistant to the Dean. -determined at a later time, as per the grace and mercy of the enlightened deliberations of her excellency, Anoyaruous Frital, Captain of the Inner Guard, Beholder of his Eternal Majesty¡¯s Enlightened Truth, and Steadholder of the Lands of the Eternal Rivers. I, as second to the Dean of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, am to report on my personal and official experiences with the anomalous actor that shall henceforth be referred to as the blue knight; a moniker of convenience and not one of honor. My experiences with the blue knight have thus far been nothing short of exceptional. Exceptional, with regards to her unconventional arrival. Exceptional, with regards to her unconventional character. Exceptional, with regards to her command of High Nexian. Exceptional, with regards to her capacity for tenacious resilience, and her commitment to her oaths of loyalty which remain at least to my experience - the purest and most resolute. Exceptional, as a result of her resistance in the face of overwhelming odds. Exceptional, as a result of her anomalous proclivities. I shall refrain, as per my academic standing and my reluctance to reach conclusions without the wisdom of my betters and my peers, from commenting on the true nature of these anomalous proclivities. For I know not the rumors of manaless capabilities, born of unknown means, vested in the intent to do harm. I know only what I see, and report only on what I observe, with limitations stemming from those observations being a fault of my own oversight. With that being said, it is important to note that the newrealmer¡­ that her¡­ that what she¡­ that what it is that¡­ I stopped myself from writing any further, as I placed both hands firmly on my head, squeezing my temples tight. The situation I now found myself in¡­ is one that I wished never to have happened. For the situation¡­ is delicate. The circumstances¡­ are unprecedented. The actors involved and the machinations at play¡­ are beyond a shadow of a doubt the very type I thought I¡¯d eluded following my voluntary exile away from such a life. However, I would be remiss to say that the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts was never not a hotbed of political activity. It was, for all intents and purposes, established with the intent of facilitating the budding relationships between adjacent realms after all; with the careful and observant eye of the enlightened regime maintaining vigilance over every step. But it was never truly a battlemap worth a crownland¡¯s eye. For nothing truly reality-shattering ever happened or developed within the walls of this esteemed academy. Making it the ideal place that I¡¯d hoped would become my quiet and secluded slice of uncorrupted Academia. This week changed that. And I am not prepared. I took a moment to step away from the papers that littered my desk, papers marked by the seals of institutions and the stamps of establishments that I¡¯d wished never to associate myself with following the start of my tenure. My eyes all but glazed over at the sight of it all, my breath stuttering, and my heart remaining anything but calm before I attempted to regain focus - placing my sights instead on the room that lay before me. The lecture hall. My lecture hall. I breathed in, focusing on both the air which nourished my body, and the mana which nourished my soul, as I allowed time itself to become the judge of the two worlds that threatened to tear me apart at the seams. The lecture hall was ready, with every inch of every surface polished and buffed to perfection. Spells born of my own creativity making certain that no dust or foreign particle would besmirch the first impressions of an impressionable group of young minds. ¡°The only thing that will be impressed upon them, will be the enlightened word of academia, and nothing else.¡± I spoke to no one but myself, a pathetic habit that I¡¯d grown accustomed to over the years, but a habit that kept me grounded no matter the challenge that faced me. I began walking, my steel-leather and dewinian-satin shoes generating a satisfying clack following each and every step I took, as I walked up and down the incline where each of the peer-group desks sat. I walked further, now weaving through all of the rows of desks from the very top of the hall to the very bottom, all the while rehearsing my lessons, all to the worrisome tune of a nagging, gnawing feeling of regrettable responsibility that all stemmed from that human knight clad in blue. The earthrealmer, whom I failed. Her words following our brief and regrettable encounter immediately after the warehouse explosion still rang loud in my mind. ¡°You owe me an explanation, you owe me a lot more than that even.¡± Her screams of betrayal. ¡°You¡­ you made a promise when I arrived that-¡± Of trust having been ripped and torn. I stopped at the foot of my desk, looking up at the blackboard that stretched up high towards the ceiling, before settling down at my desk once more to complete that which needed to be done. That was, until I heard the unlatching of the rear entrance, and the arrival of the black robed professor¡¯s apprentice. ¡°Professor.¡± Larial uttered with a tired, haggard breath. ¡°Your presence is required in the healing chambers.¡± A pit quickly formed in my stomach, as if more could form given the circumstances¡­ ¡°Of course.¡± I acknowledged, standing up, and leaving the room without so much as another word uttered. My pace was brisk, and so too was the apprentice¡¯s as she tried to keep up in spite of her recent injuries. ¡°Professor, I¡­ I must request a point of personal privilege.¡± ¡°Go ahead, Apprentice Larial.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°I am not ready.¡± The elf uttered out emphatically, or as much as she could given her tired state. ¡°I am not ready to take on his responsibilities.¡± ¡°But you must be.¡± I responded, offering little in the way of aid or help¡­ because it was not my place to offer such things. ¡°Because I know for a fact that you are ready.¡± I attempted to reassure the girl as best as I could. ¡°Tomorrow¡¯s classes are my own responsibility. You still have a day left to prepare for that which you have been training for.¡± I attempted to reason with her, as we finally arrived in front of the otherwise unmarked chambers, to the scores of chanting that lie therein. ¡°Are you at least ready to enter, Apprentice?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Larial responded, though not without a good degree of apprehension. ¡°Good.¡± I responded with confidence, as I tried to muster up a brave face for the prospective academic. ¡°Then let us witness that which is our regrettable, but necessary duty.¡± Chapter 68: Wearing Power Armor to a Magic Class ??? Emma I was floating. I didn¡¯t know how, I didn¡¯t know why, I didn¡¯t even know for how long. All I knew was that I was here. Calm. Relaxed. And tentatively at peace. Though even that came with a caveat. Hence the operative word tentative. Because despite the initial wave of calm, and the subsequent flows of relaxation, a distant, looming, gnawing sense of dread began fabricating itself a home; turning those gentle waves into turbulent tides. Like the looming feeling of anxiety on a night prior to an exam, or the sense of impending doom that came with spending your last night at your childhood home before moving out for good, that gnawing, unrelenting sense of worry just wouldn¡¯t let up. It just grew. It just grew and grew and grew until finally, it came to a head. Or until that sense of anxiety just doubles down. In my case, it ended with a simple question. One that I myself muttered out into the empty nothingness. ¡°Are we ready?¡± My voice echoed until it became dull and muffled, its presence in the nothingness of the void seemingly acting as the catalyst for its change, revealing a smudgy hazy world that I couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of; like I was staring out of a pair of glasses caked under ten layers of grease. ¡°What? Like, for the mission?¡± A voice suddenly responded, a familiar voice with an equally familiar face materialized in front of me, in the form of the ever warm and encouraging grin of the LREF Captain. ¡°I think that¡¯s a question only you can answer, Emma.¡± He continued, the blurriness of the world suddenly clearing up chunk by blocky chunk, as I found myself once more in the officer¡¯s lounge; once more with an entire pile of practice paperwork strewn in front of me. ¡°I mean, unless that is unless you¡¯re asking me about paperwork in which case, trust me - you¡¯ll never be ready.¡± He managed out with a teasing chuckle. ¡°No sir I-.¡± I paused, taking a look at the sample paperwork before me, before breaking out in a small chuckle first. ¡°You have a point there, but that wasn¡¯t the intent of my question.¡± ¡°Oh? Well what is it then?¡± The man leaned back, adjusting his gold-trimmed cape as it eventually came to a rest flush against his chair. ¡°Is it about the equipment? If so, you¡¯re second only to Dr. Mekis and the science team when it comes to understanding just how much we¡¯ve come in the field of anomalous exoreality energies-¡± ¡°No, no, it¡¯s not about the equipment, or any other practical concerns sir. It¡¯s about¡­ the possibility of scenario E-10.¡± ¡°Ah, that.¡± The man¡¯s features shifted suddenly, his expressions not necessarily darkening, but contorting to something that reflected the severity of the proposition at hand. It took a few moments before he finally responded. But not in the way I¡¯d at all expected. ¡°Yeah, no idea what that is.¡± He shot back with a complete shift in tone revealing his mischievous intent, his lips parting, revealing a toothy grin that all but shattered the tension of the room. ¡°Because that¡¯s not one of our protocols now is it?¡± Confusion struck me at first, before a revelation struck me just as quickly as I realized the mess-up I¡¯d made. ¡°Ohhhhhhh! God, I¡¯m an idiot¡­¡± I muttered out sharply to myself, prompting the LREF Captain to let out a snicker, as he chuckled softly to himself. ¡°You¡¯ve been spending too much time around the Soc-Sci departments, Emma, and not enough time around our own.¡± He started, shrugging all the same. ¡°But I can¡¯t really fault you for that. This is a diplomatic mission first-¡± He paused, before flipping his hands back and forth through the air. ¡°-aaand a scouting and recon mission as well but¡­ I¡¯m not going to be deducting points away from you for not memorizing the exoreality strategic response protocols. That¡¯s our job, following of course from the assessment of our civilian counterparts. But still, I get where you¡¯re coming from.¡± His face once more shifted into something resembling that severe and thoughtful one he started off with. ¡°Remind me, E-10, that¡¯s using the Revised New Oslo criteria, right?¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± I nodded sharply in response. ¡°The five-step shorthand analysis for assessing diplomatic engagement. With A being Proactively Positive. B being Tentatively Positive. C being Neutral, unresponsive, and or ambivalent. D being Tentatively Negative, and E-¡± ¡°Pens down and guns out.¡± The Captain interjected with a sullen sigh. ¡°With E-10 being the absolute worst of the worst case scenarios.¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± ¡°Then I think what you¡¯re referring to here is Protocol 12-01; something we¡¯re gaming to initiate at the earliest signs of E-10.¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± I acknowledged again, simply nodding as I clenched my fists tight. ¡°I¡­ I am concerned¡­ not for my own safety at the hands of a potential enemy¡­ but at the threat of E-10 being actualized, and 12-01 following suit. I¡¯m worried about the very real possibility of war, Captain Li.¡± A brief silence punctuated my response, as the Captain seemed to take every word spoken with genuine care and intent. The man breathed in, before letting out a sharp exhale as he spoke. ¡°I admit, it¡¯s been too long since the last big one.¡± ¡°Sir?¡± ¡°Three hundred years, Emma. Three hundred years of uninterrupted peace. Barring that little blip that was the Jovian Insurrection, we¡¯ve enjoyed a period of unprecedented peace and security. Now, I know what most will be saying, and I know the types of thoughts that are swirling through your head right now too. Have we become soft? Pliable? Incapable of war? Have our civvie politics hampered, shoestrung, and entangled the military in a web of reforms for the sake of ethics and budget? Are we now, so risk-averse, that the heavyweights and juggernauts that make up our walls of defenses have all but atrophied?¡± The man paused, as if waiting for me to reply to those rhetorical questions. But before I could, he responded to them himself, with a tone of resolute confidence that befitted the cape he wore. ¡°The answer is no. No to all counts. While naysayers will point to the sheer drop that was the defense budget immediately following the last extrasolar war, which was mind you reasonable because of the rebuilding needed immediately post-war¡­ nowadays? It¡¯s more or less stabilized. The fixed minimum curve is and has always been active for vital services, and that includes the defense budget. So I¡¯m confident when I say this, Emma. We¡¯re stronger than we ever were before, more organized than we ever were, better trained, better equipped, and prepared for anything. Heck, why do you think they brought me on, Emma?¡± ¡°For your forward expeditionary expertise?¡± The man furrowed his brows in response, as if expecting a better answer. ¡°That¡¯s part of it, a big part of it, but just a part of it all the same. What was the LREF¡¯s founding mission?¡± ¡°To act as the premier, foremost, self-contained arm of the armed forces with a capacity for the prolonged, protracted, large-scale projection of force beyond the traditional capabilities of the Army, EAF, and TSEC?¡± ¡°Correct. But more than that, we were founded because of a latent fear, Emma. Do you know what that fear was?¡± ¡°The fear of what¡¯s out there?¡± ¡°Correct. The fear of what lies around the next nebula, and what¡¯s lurking behind the next star cluster. For the moment the first FTL drives spooled up, we knew we needed to be ready. And I¡¯m sure things haven¡¯t changed despite it being more than half a millennium since that day. For the moment the first portals open up-¡± ¡°-we¡¯re already ready.¡± I surmised, prompting the man to finally respond with an approving, cheeky grin. ¡°Correct.¡± The man shot a finger gun back towards me. ¡°So don¡¯t worry. Your job is to scout and report back. Reconnaissance first, and assessments if possible. For both our civvie overlords, and our chain of command.¡± He responded with a strong and reassuring smile, before placing a hand against my shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Emma. We¡¯ve been preparing and gaming for an alien invasion for the past half a millennium. Let¡¯s just hope it doesn¡¯t come to that though.¡± He offered encouragingly, as I closed my eyes and nodded. Only to open them to see that the Captain was gone. The room was empty. What¡¯s more¡­ the emergency lights were on. And the pre-recorded audio of voices calling for an immediate evacuation blared throughout the empty and blood-soaked halls. ¡°ATTENTION. ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR NEAREST EVAC POINT. ATTENTION. MULTIPLE PORTAL SIGNATURES DETECTED! ATTENTION. ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR NEAREST ESCAPE POD! ATTENTION! MULTIPLE PORTAL SIGNATURES DETECTED OUTSIDE OF THE CONTAINMENT AREA! ATTENTION-¡± The audio screeched to a halt, with three resonant chimes announcing the interfacing of a Class A signal. A signal straight from Unified Central Command. ¡°THIS IS AN EMERGENCY BROADCAST FROM UN-ONE TO ALL UN MILITARY INSTALLATIONS. THE EMERGENCY OFFICE OF THE INTERIM GOVERNMENT HAS CONFIRMED A DE FACTO STATE OF WAR HAS BEEN DECLARED. PROTOCOL 12-01 IS NOW IN EFFECT. THE USE OF STRATEGIC WEAPONS HAS BEEN AUTHORIZED BY THE UNIFIED CENTRAL COMMAND STAFF, AND THE ACTING FIRST SECRETARY. A STRATEGIC REGROUPING IS BEING ORDERED TO ALL REMAINING FORCES IN ALL SECTORS STILL UNAFFECTED BY MANA RADIATION.¡± A series of three resonant chimes marked the end of that announcement, as I turned to face one of the few windows within the installation, only to see a massive crack forming along its edges. Water immediately flooded in soon after. And I was once more floating in a dark and weightless abyss. I floated there¡­ for what felt like ages. Until finally, a series of chimes¡­ wind chimes this time, started echoing somewhere far off in the distance. Its incessant, ceaseless, and ear-numbing sounds increased second by second. Its all-consuming metallic tinkling was an assault that did not let up, until finally, it all came to a head¡­ In a series of loud, monotonous- BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! I woke up to the tune of a series of BEEP BEEP BEEPS, the physical buzzing of an alarm, and an unsightly pool of drool that had formed on the built-in pillow of my sleepsack. ¡°Blegh.¡± I uttered out with the grace of a sack of bricks, which I probably now resembled what with most of my body cocooned and entombed within the sleepsack¡¯s soft and squishy confines. I turned to my side, and a world of hurt suddenly hit me¡­ in the form of my face slamming hard against my tablet, which during the prior night had been propped up on a kick-stand. With anger at my past self at an all time high for placing the thing so close to my face, I unzipped and immediately squirmed my way out of the comfy cocoon, grabbing the tablet with vitriol only to be met face to face with the culprit of my nightmares.
Sole-contact local authority known as NEXUS is preemptively and tentatively considered to be hostile as per the observed action and intent of several state-backed actors. Modified New Oslo Criteria (MNOC) Category D-1 is advised, with current datasets insufficient to satisfy the data prerequisites of the Revised New Oslo Criteria (RNOC). Data to be¡­ sdljfaslkjf
I made the mistake of thinking I could finish my work in bed. And I suffered for it dearly. With a huffy sigh only the Vunerian could be proud of, I eventually found my way towards the foldable chair, reviewing what I¡¯d accomplished over the course of that half-awake, semi-conscious fight to finish what I¡¯d started. It didn¡¯t take too long too, as I finally came across the last thing added to the report.
Discovery of a completely neutral ENTITY independent from the Nexus¡¯ sphere of influence has been made. ENTITY shall be referred by its local designator: LIBRARY. Diplomatic endeavors with LIBRARY are proceeding cordially; full details to follow within the report.
¡°EVI.¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Percentage of report left to finish?¡± Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Five percent, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Okay, at least there¡¯s that.¡± I let out a sigh of relief as I got up from the chair, and started going about my morning routine. ¡°EVI, start going through my morning briefing.¡± I spoke through a yawn, as I threw my undersuit into the washer, stepped into the shower, and allowed myself to just soak underneath the much-needed warmth of the scalding hot water. ¡°Acknowledged. Local time: 0743. ETA to first class: 1 Hour and 17 Minutes. No objectives noted for class. Current mission objectives as indicated by Mission Commander¡­ A. Locate and Secure the AM-d-002b Low-Bandwidth Exoreality Unidirectional Narrowband Pulsator (Minor Shard of Impart) from the ¡®Amethyst Dragon¡¯ B. Rebuild the ECS C. Resume ¡®library questline¡¯ with ILUNOR RULARIA by Initiating scouting and espionage operations on MAL¡¯TORY¡¯S OFFICE. D. Follow Up on RILA¡¯S whereabouts and current status following the explosion. E. Follow up on Lord ETHOLIN ESILA¡¯S meeting request. F. Continue the mana-desaturation experiments. Priority: Foodstuff viability tests. G. Review footage from DEAN¡¯S office following scheduled or prompted self-extraction H. Expect the Unexpected¡­ Cadet Booker, the last objective seems to be written with-¡± ¡°Yeah, with a bit of humor in mind.¡± I managed out in the midst of the shower. ¡°That¡¯s the point, but you can take that out if need be.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Current Academy-Dictated objectives: A. House Choosing Ceremony in six days. B. School Supply trip to town in five days.¡± ¡°Yup, we¡¯ll do a bit of digging to see exactly what¡¯s required of us for that, so that¡¯s not a priority right now.¡± I spoke, and after a bit more bickering with the EVI over the progress of the tent, and a few more housekeeping details, I finally stepped out of the shower; heading towards a small briefcase-like drawer. With a small pneumatic - ploomf! - the top of the drawer released a pristine, perfectly pressed undersuit out of a set of twenty or so vacuum-sealed within its tight confines. And with a poignant look at the armor, followed by the typical cursory safety checks, and checklist rundowns, it was once more time to face the world. The HUD that had become my daily driver lit up, and the list objectives we¡¯d just discussed were now sitting there neatly on the top right hand side of my sightline. ¡°Alright.¡± I uttered out with a steady breath. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower en route to the Grand Concourse of Learning, Betreyan¡¯s Hall. Local time: 0845. Emma In what was becoming a strange pattern, I¡¯d left my tent to an awaiting Thacea, who then ushered me out to our counterparts bickering about some esoteric magical topic over in the dorm¡¯s living room. A lamentable food cart lazily sitting in the middle of the living room clued me in to the status of breakfast, and after a few words of pleasantries were exchanged, we left the room entirely. We crossed paths with multiple students along the way, as passive banter eventually melted into a sea of incoherent chatter as we made our way down through the winding staircases, across chasms and pits, and even through an intersection where several stairs merged like a twisted version of a railway crossing. My sanity was about ready to pop as we finally entered what appeared to be a¡­ normal looking hallway. A grand one, sure, but otherwise, without any eccentric magical flourishes. This pattern continued as Thacea led us down and through the crowd of students, many of which had their eyes trained on me for far longer than most, before we finally arrived at a room with a small placard bolted to the right of the aged double doors.
Betreyan¡¯s Hall
We¡¯d made it to class. Entering through those double doors, we emerged into a spacious hall that took me by surprise. And it wasn¡¯t because of its opulence or grandeur, but its lack thereof. There was something strange about finally being able to see the benches and seats that had been used by thousands upon thousands of generations of students. There was also something truly bizarre about seeing what was in effect a lecture hall that felt more at home at Oxbridge back home, rather than a place that had otherwise exuded baroque gaudiness every chance it could. It was both refreshing but sad at the same time to say that this room was well and truly something that finally reminded me of a proper university, and not a grand palace or castle. I stared at the structure of the place for a while, at the elongated desks meant to seat four to five people each, more than likely dividing up the seating amongst peer groups. The whole room was structured like your typical lecture hall, but with a bit of Nexian flare, with it looking less like a tiered lecture hall and more like an amphitheater with the dramatic shift in elevation from the very back of the room, all the way to the very ¡®bottom¡¯ of the room where the teacher¡¯s desk sat just in front of a comically large blackboard. I stood for a moment, gawking at the whole sight, before a thought finally hit me. ¡°So, where do we sit?¡± That question seemed to quieten the gathered crowd that had just been talking amongst themselves. ¡°Well, obviously, we sit where we are assigned!¡± A bat-like student from the very middle of the crowd responded. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A19 Airit Airus - Shatorealm [NEUTRAL] ¡°I beg your pardon my dear fellow, but exactly how are we to determine assigned seating when such assignments have yet to be made?¡± Another voice offered from deeper within the crowd, prompting an all out ruckus to erupt after that. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A98 Navine Ladona - Anurarealm [NEUTRAL] Everyone once more descended into either intra-group discussions with almost practiced precision, whilst others seemed content on talking over each other in the small public forum that had formed out of the chaos. All of this finally came to a head with a loud - KA-THUNK! - from the very front and bottom of the room, as a certain blue-robed professor emerged from a side entrance with his hands politely held behind his back. ¡°ALL STUDENTS FORWARD AND BOW!¡± A voice erupted from the front of the crowd¡­ a familiar voice, belonging to the overachieving gorn-like lizard, Qiv Ratom. ¡°Good morning, Professor Vanavan!¡± The gaggle of nobles spoke in unison following Qiv¡¯s prompting, all bowing in their own ways toward the front, all in a smooth and practiced motion. Vanavan responded with an appropriately timed bow of his own, taking a few steps towards the lectern that stood beside his desk. ¡°Good morning, students. I know this is quite an¡­ unprecedented situation. For as you are all aware, you are one of the few year groups on record to lack an assigned house prior to your first class. So whereas typically you would be assigned seating delineated as per your houses, today, and for the rest of the first week - you are being granted the privilege of choosing a temporary seating arrangement.¡± The blue robed professor ended that last line off with an expectant and kind smile. A smile that was, however, unfortunately, not reciprocated by any of the students present as they merely stared back with expressions that ranged from vacant acknowledgement to agitated impatience. The assistant dean seemed to be nominally in control, if only so far as decorum had demanded it. ¡°With that being said, let us not dilly-dally. Peer groups, please come forward in an orderly fashion to pick your seats.¡± I didn¡¯t know why, maybe it was simply because I wanted to get it over with, but I instinctively stepped forward. Only to be matched in my pace forward by a certain lizard-man. We stood in silence for a moment, only for me to break the silence promptly. ¡°Okay, this is awkward.¡± I began, as Qiv seemed to raise a brow at that casual sentiment. ¡°Indeed it is quite¡­ awkward as you say.¡± He responded with a tone of voice that was purposeful in its perplexed register. ¡°Alright then, in that case, by all means.¡± I gestured towards the empty room, as those words seemed to be enough for Qiv¡¯s eyes to suddenly light up in a hawkish glint. ¡°No, no. I insist, Cadet Emma Booker, the floor is yours.¡± He responded with a sharp deployment of tact. ¡°No really, I¡¯m honestly quite alright. I insist.¡± I responded once more, matching Qiv¡¯s courteous tone of voice to a tee. But it was clear he was having none of it, and wasn¡¯t about to back down from the challenge. ¡°But I insist, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°No, I insist, Lord Qiv Ratom.¡± We both shot back at each other in the span of barely a second. ¡°It is with the grace of my benevolence that I wish for you to take that which you so clearly already committed to.¡± He once more offered. ¡°And it is with a desire to simply sit down for class that I am advising that you head on first so we can get this over with.¡± I rebutted. The standoff seemed destined to devolve further, if not for Vanavan¡¯s timely mediation, as he stepped between the both of us in an attempt to offer us a resolution. ¡°You must forgive my interruption, but I must insist we expedite this minor dispute to its ultimate conclusion.¡± The man began, before turning to Qiv with a warm smile. ¡°Lord Qiv Ratom?¡± ¡°Yes, Professor?¡± ¡°I must insist that Cadet Emma Booker be allowed the opportunity of first-choice. She is, after all, a newrealmer, and we must be courteous, and aware that she is not accustomed to our ways. I hope that you understand this decision, Lord Qiv.¡± The gorn-like lizard relented without question, nodding his head deeply in response, as he wordlessly stepped back. ¡°A wise decision on your behalf, Professor Vanavan. As to be expected from the enlightened force of mediation that is the Nexus.¡± With that awkward start to the class out of the way, I began the awkward march of stepping first into the empty hall, down towards the seat I had in mind. A seat that, if my rear-view cameras were of any indication, Qiv was certainly not expecting. The middle seat. ¡°Are you guys fine with this?¡± I turned around to question the gang, who all seemed to nod along, if only to get everything over with. The whole room erupted into gossipy chatter following that, as if there was something¡­ scandalous about choosing the middle seat? With that out of the way, Qiv stepped up next, and expectedly¡­ walked all the way toward the front of the hall, settling himself and the rest of his peer group into the set of seats not only closest to the front, but centered as well. For a split second, he turned towards me with a look of indignant annoyance, before shaking his head and beginning to whisper something under a cone of silence to his peers. The rest of the year group followed suit in no short order, as back and forth jockeying and bickering was resolved time and time again by Vanavan before finally¡­ after a good twenty or so minutes of negotiations, everyone was finally settled into their own seats. So this was it. Class. After what felt like an entire year condensed into a single week¡¯s worth of unexpected social and political quagmires, we were finally here. Within the halls of learning, ready to have our brains filled with what was most likely a portion of practical knowledge with a heavy side order of Nexian propaganda. Or make that a side and several more free helpings, because if orientation day was anything to go by, and if the dean¡¯s long winded speech about gods and their creation myth was of any indication - this whole thing was bound to be heavy with the weight of Nexian brainwashing. Yet despite what was to come, and despite knowing well that this was well and truly a magic school, there was something undeniably¡­ familiar about the whole scene. And it wasn¡¯t just because of the unhealthy amount of magic-school inspired fantasy shows I consumed during that season¡¯s worth of genre hyperfixation in middle school, no. There was something else here that ran deeper, a familiar sense of home that I¡¯d also experienced back during the emergency assembly. It took me a second to really think about it, before I finally realized what it was. Because as I trained my eyes around my HUD, the panoramic picture-in-picture camera-view showing me the entirety of my surroundings¡­ I saw what was in effect the same sorts of tomfoolery I¡¯d expect from classes back at home. From the endless conga line of gossip amongst those at the back of class, to the preppy-ness of what would more than likely become the star-students at the very front of class, to those that seemed to revert back to elementary school of all things by flinging about magically-imbued paper birds. The whole scene was a mish mash of behavior I¡¯d expect from the youngest of student groups, to what I¡¯d expect from college-level peers who were just there to sit and learn. It was a bizarre eclectic collection. But given that this class was hosted by Vanavan of all professors, a man who had practically zero backbone and about the same amount of tangible authority, perhaps this was just an act of defiance against a man who everyone knew couldn¡¯t really commit to fighting back. That, or I was just reading too much into things. It was about the same time that the blue robed professor finally made his way towards the front of the class, silencing each and every minor bit of tomfoolery along the way, as paper birds crumpled and gossip died down the moment he walked past. All of this finally came to a head in the form of the professor taking to his podium, his eyes trained towards the class in an excitable glow. ¡°Magic.¡± The blue robed professor began, announcing the word with more vigor and assuredness than I¡¯d seen him use before this point. The man seemed to finally be in his element, actually looking comfortable in his robes. ¡°The lifeblood of our very existence.¡± He continued, before stopping in his tracks, his hands still behind his back, as he cocked his head curiously; his features following the same faux-curiosity. ¡°Or is it?¡± He questioned himself, then subsequently pointed to a random student. One that seemed to be primed to answer any and all questions from the onset. Qiv. ¡°Lord Ratom, do you find any¡­ inconsistencies with that statement? Do you or do you not disagree with that simple assertion?¡± The gorn-like lizardman, without missing a beat, responded with a resolute nod. ¡°I do find an inconsistency professor, a blatant one at that.¡± Vanavan nodded at that answer, before turning to the class as a whole. ¡°Does anyone here object to Lord Ratom¡¯s statements?¡± There were no responses, at least, not for a solid few seconds. Until finally, someone did raise their hands. A certain bullheaded student, with an equally bullheaded answer. ¡°I do.¡± Auris Ping responded with a huffy sneer. ¡°Of course magic is the lifeblood of existence! Anyone who disagrees is a blasphemer, and a dissident, with seditious intent.¡± He announced just as equally, if not more confident than Qiv, prompting several students to nod along to his bullish words. ¡°An interesting, and well reasoned rebuttal, Lord Ping.¡± Vanavan acknowledged with an equally respectful nod, before turning to Qiv. ¡°Well go on then, Lord Ratom, where along that assertion do the inconsistencies lie?¡± ¡°In the notion that it is magic that is the lifeblood of our existence. The latter statement is vague, but given we aren¡¯t in a political studies class, and instead a magic and mana theory class, it is reasonable to assume that the latter statement is being framed more literally than metaphorically. As a result, the terms magic and mana are more than likely to be used in their appropriate academic phrasing, and not used interchangeably as in a social studies class. Ergo, that statement is false, as it is mana that is the lifeblood of our existence, not magic. For magic is merely the study and application of the fundamental forces of mana. Whilst mana is the primordial force by which magic is derived.¡± Qiv answered with a confidence that put me in mind of those teacher¡¯s pets from both your typical animated show, or heck, even real life. ¡°Or, in layman''s terms, the force with which magic is powered.¡± Vanavan smiled at that answer, a genuine smile this time around, as he nodded slowly in response. ¡°Very good, Lord Ratom. Very good. Twenty points to your peer group, and whatever house you end up falling within by week¡¯s end.¡± ¡°That was a trick question, professor! A matter of semantics and nothing more!¡± The bull-headed bull objected loudly, prompting Vanavan to immediately address his grievances with a cock of his head. ¡°Semantics, as you can imagine Lord Ping, is a matter of great importance when it comes to the realms of academia. It would behoove you to consider the weight of each and every word, for whilst certain words may seem interchangeable, such things are only appropriate when in the presence of the less educated, and the ill-informed. For those of us that wish to be the model of the enlightened and studied ruler, we must always pick our words carefully, and regard every statement with precision.¡± Vanavan paused, leveling his eyes towards the bull noble. ¡°This is both a lesson pertinent to the class, and the world beyond the walls of this class, Lord Ping. Are there any questions thus far?¡± He refocused his gaze on the rest of the class. No further complaints were raised. Prompting the man to continue unabated. ¡°One cannot understand magic without first understanding mana, and one cannot truly appreciate mana without understanding its applied use in the realm of magic. These two concepts are intertwined, and yet they are separate and distinct. This is why manafield studies, and magic theory, are my prerogative to teach. As it is simply more effective to teach both concurrently. As a result of this, whilst they are considered and graded as two separate classes, there will be much overlap as classes progress.¡± The man announced, as his hawkish eyes once more trained itself amongst the student body, eventually landing on me. ¡°Cadet Booker, would you say education is a prerequisite for the use of magic?¡± Chapter 69: A Nice Start to Class That question, like many other challenges to my standing in the Nexian public eye, hit me with the courtesy of a purposeful door slam to the hand. Being put on the spot, having all eyes suddenly turning on me after what seemed to be a smooth transition into the motions of class, was completely and utterly debilitating. Or at least, it would have been, if it wasn¡¯t for the armor acting as a very real barrier that I could now use as a crutch to escape the throes of social awkwardness. Moreover, SIOP training, as gruesome as it was, was now paying its dividends as I deftly shifted my focus quickly from shock and embarrassment, to finding solutions to that unexpected challenge. ¡°Is education a prerequisite for the use of magic?¡± I parroted the man¡¯s question within my helmet, my speakers on mute, as I mulled over the intricacies of the question for a few short seconds. On one hand, it was an impossible question to answer with any degree of confidence without the appropriate prerequisite knowledge. On the other hand, it was as straightforward a question as could be¡­ if I decided to put my thinking cap on, and apply my ¡®situational adaptability and personal initiative¡¯ skills to the test once more. ¡°No, professor.¡± I responded confidently. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say education is a prerequisite for magic, just as education is not strictly a prerequisite for the application of any force of nature.¡± I quickly added. ¡°Because just as one can arbitrarily strike two rocks together to generate a spark to ignite some kindling, so too can one arbitrarily feel the ebbs and flows of mana in the manastreams, channeling it to perform spells and magic to physical effect. But it¡¯s education, and the establishment of systems of learning and the institutions which facilitate it, that separates arbitrary practices from learned intent. Which is what unlocks the potential for a civilization to move from intuitive understanding, to reason and knowledge-based understanding, granting it the ability to maximize and iterate upon what would otherwise be actions without deliberate intent. Because whilst both paths offer the same ends at first, it''s the second path - the path of actually comprehending the reason behind the process - that separates a lifetime of striking two rocks together from the creation of flint and steel.¡± I just about channeled every disparate and formerly unrelated region of my brain in order to reach that conclusion. Having more or less pulled from the impromptu ad-libbing of Castles and Wyverns roleplays, the public speaking skills from SIOP¡¯s speech classes, the recent knowledge of mana and manastreams gained from Thacea and the gang, as well as even some vague pointers from science class at one point. All of these seemingly random elements came to form an unholy answer that felt like it¡¯d have been more at home in some really esoteric Castles and Wyverns campaign. Yet despite that, and despite how I was flying by the seat of my pants here, what mattered most was how that answer was received. And given Vanavan¡¯s genuinely wide-eyed expression, and the various glares, stares, and gawks from the rest of the student body¡­ I could tell it at least made an impression, if not an unexpected one. ¡°That is¡­ categorically accurate, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Vanavan replied in no uncertain terms, a certain degree of disbelief coloring what was in effect a voice that harbored a similar praising tone he¡¯d used with Qiv not a moment earlier. ¡°If this wisdom is truly of your own making, derived exclusively from your realm¡¯s teachings, then I can foresee a very fruitful year to come of our classes.¡± The man paused for a moment, as if pondering his next few words carefully. The ponderings of which, for some reason, seemed to put the teacher¡¯s pet - Qiv - on high alert if his hawkish eyes were of any indication. ¡°Fifteen points to the newrealmer and her peer group, and to whichever house she finds herself in by week¡¯s end.¡± The man finally announced, eliciting a drastic shift in the class¡¯ atmosphere as gasps belonging to wildly different species punctuated the air, complementing the shock in Qiv¡¯s eyes which transitioned almost immediately to a ferocious side-eye of competitive aggression directed towards me and me alone. A sole second was all it took for that side-eye to develop into the raising of an arm. Except it wasn¡¯t Qiv whose arm was being raised this time around. Instead, it was a certain bull who sat a few rows over, his eyes absolutely welling with a hatred that far outpaced Qiv¡¯s. Which, unsurprisingly, was received all but graciously by the blue robed professor. ¡°Yes, Lord Ping?¡± ¡°Your acknowledgement of the newrealmer¡¯s answer is an insult to the very institutions of magic, Professor Vanavan.¡± The bull spoke in no uncertain terms. His eyes however clearly weren¡¯t trained on the professor himself, but me. And if this were anything but real life but instead a cartoon¡­ I could imagine flames and smoke to be erupting from his nostrils right about now. ¡°Please elaborate, Lord Ping.¡± Vanavan responded, taking the bait. ¡°She speaks of the usage of mana, the practice of magic, as if it were a¡­ a savage¡¯s tool. Am I mistaken to assume that it is education, and the formalization of the process of studying, interpreting, and categorizing one¡¯s actions in the manipulation of mana, that separates a civilized being from an uncivilized savage?! That it is these very institutions we construct, develop, and uphold against the unfeeling forces of the natural order, that enshrines what it means to be a sapient?!¡± ¡°You are not mistaken, Lord Ping.¡± Vanavan once more nodded, his calm demeanor acting as yet more kindling to the fire that was Ping¡¯s growing vitriol. ¡°Then HOW is the newrealmer¡¯s answer at all viable to your question, Professor Vanavan?¡± ¡°Semantics, Lord Ping.¡± Vanavan responded calmly. Prompting Auris to all but stop in his tracks. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± It was around this point that I saw Qiv¡¯s reptilian eyes practically lighting up at that response, like a shark smelling blood in the water, he raised his hand; poised for a killing blow. A blow Vanavan seemed to be glad to permit with a nod of his head. ¡°If Professor Vanavan had phrased the question as such - ¡®Is education a prerequisite for the practice of magic?¡¯ - then you would have been correct in dismissing the newrealmer¡¯s answer. However, not once did he say practice, instead explicitly referring to the use of magic. Which, in and of itself, is an important descriptor. Because as you phrased so eloquently yourself: it is the practice of magic that separates the savage from the civilized.¡± Qiv managed out in one smooth practiced motion, quickly handing the floor back to Vanavan with a deep bow of his head, leaving the bull stunned and dazed. ¡°Thank you, Lord Ratom.¡± Vanavan acknowledged, before pressing onwards by setting his sights not just on Auris, but the rest of the crowd as well. ¡°Lord Ping raises valid concerns, but once again, those concerns are predicated on a gross oversight of semantics, and a fundamental misunderstanding between the important delineating words: use and practice. Lord Ratom is thus correct in his assertions. Moreover, it is Lord Ratom¡¯s assertions that reinforces Cadet Booker¡¯s answer. For magic is indeed capable of being used by any being with a sufficiently mature manafield. The practice of magic however, is an entirely different story altogether. For the practice of magic is entirely contingent on the formalized study of magic within the walls of academia, overseen by those accredited by institutions hallowed by the sacrosanct will of sapiency. Using magic, in and of itself, is fundamentally distinct from this. For it is a trait shared by many things. From the lowest of magical creatures such as the Lukehart¡¯s Slime, to the rare few gifted peasants prior to their induction into the magical guilds, to those newrealms that have yet to have been endowed with the Expectant Principles of Civility - using magic is simply the manipulation of mana without civilized intent. Using magic is, as Cadet Booker so eloquently described, the senseless, meaningless, and purposeless manipulation of a natural force to reach a desired end. Practicing magic is by contrast, the act of applying reason and purpose, the gifts of sapiency, in the manipulation of mana. In essence - civilizing what would otherwise be an uncivilized action.¡± Vanavan concluded in a way that felt¡­ eerily natural to him, as if he¡¯d been practicing this speech, rehearsing these very words, time and time again. That, or he well and truly did believe in the veracity and the logic behind what felt like a highly biased interpretation of what would have otherwise been an objective study like science. Overall, this entire narrative just felt wrong. But it was clear that the man was only just beginning, as he finally transitioned away from that by virtue of the lizard-gorn¡¯s reentry into the conversation through a raising of his hand. ¡°In effect applying the Expectant Principles of Civility, unto those which are our Gods-given gifts of mana-manipulation, in order to enforce our will to shape the world as we see fit.¡± ¡°That is correct, Lord Ratom.¡± Vanavan acknowledged with a nod. ¡°Which is precisely why I posed this question to the class. To determine just how many amongst us truly understands this concept, this distinction between use and practice; to reinforce the importance that formal institutions of learning have had in allowing us to climb to such heights¡­ and to allow you, as aspiring leaders amongst your realms, to enforce your will upon the world.¡± The man paused, now transitioning into a sort of a motivational, almost inspirational tone of voice you¡¯d expect from one of those cheesy late 2990s school dramadies. ¡°Which is exactly the reason why all of you are here. To learn, and to fulfill your obligations as models and beacons of the civilized world.¡± A single hand was confidently raised once more by the lizard-gorn in question, as Vanavan seemed all too pleased to grant him the floor yet again. ¡°Which does lead me to one question, if I may, professor?¡± ¡°Yes, Lord Ratom?¡± ¡°You mentioned newrealms in your list of those who use instead of those who practice magic.¡± ¡°That is correct, Lord Ratom.¡± ¡°And yet you cited the newrealmer¡¯s words as being, and I quote: categorically accurate. Moreover, you¡¯ve utilized my own words to reaffirm the newrealmer¡¯s answer. If I may be so bold to ask¡­ wouldn¡¯t that defy the veracity of your statements regarding newrealms, Professor Vanavan? That because they have yet to be enlightened by the Nexus, that they are lumped in with groups that simply use magic, and thus undeniably savage?¡± The man did a complete roundabout offensive, having jumped on the Auris Ping beat-down bandwagon, and having now redirected that momentum back towards me. ¡°I am afraid, Lord Ratom, that this is a point of contention best reserved for those who are experts in the field of which your inquiries lie - social studies. I can only point out the truth and objective facts which I observe, and the realities which I know to be true. The eternal truths do state that newrealms are considered savage by nature, as a result of their unlearned use of magic. However, that does not mean that Cadet Booker¡¯s response is invalidated. She has clearly answered the question correctly, thus creating a dissonance that can more than likely be explained by a mind more experienced and studied in a field beyond my own expertise.¡± ¡°If I may, Professor?¡± Another voice peeped out, a higher pitched one, tempered by a skittishness that colored his voice - the ferret merchant lord. ¡°Yes Lord Etholin Esila?¡± ¡°The eternal truths are¡­ in fact, something to be strived for by all civilized sapients, correct?¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± ¡°Perhaps¡­ some newrealms exist that innately understand these truths. These are, after all, universal constants that cannot be invalidated. It is perhaps such that this newrealm is just¡­ closer to enlightenment without knowing it.¡± ¡°That is a possibility, Lord Esila. But I can only postulate. As, once again, this is a question beyond the scope of this class, best reserved for social studies. And I would be remiss if I were to veer too far into Professor Articord¡¯s domain.¡± The man more or less deflected that question with a polite smile, throwing the fox professor under the bus, and just as quickly shifting gears. ¡°Now then! With those important fundamentals out of the way, it is clear to me that this year group has quite a fair share of fundamentals that may require remediation.¡± His words seem to elicit some looks of incredulity, as egos were being damaged across the board. ¡°But of course, that is why my classes exist. To ensure that all of us are on the same page by year¡¯s end. Now! Onto the structural details of the class-¡± The man turned to the blackboard, which now seemed to be animated, with sticks of chalk running across the board in record speed. ¡°-my classes, as with most of the other classes you will be taking, will be divided into two main periods. A morning period assigned to Magic Theory, and an afternoon period assigned to Manafield Studies. Other professors may have two subjects divided similarly, others such as Professor Belnor having three classes in a single day, whilst others still may have just one, such as Professor Chiska¡¯s Physical Education class.¡± Polite groans were heard throughout the room at the very idea of physical education, but it soon quietened down after a firm shushing by Qiv. ¡°In the case of Magic Theory and Manafield studies, I will be teaching both as if they were one class, because as I stated earlier, the two concepts are intertwined. Tests and examinations will be a combination of theory and practice. Though I doubt any of you will have issues with this. Any questions so far?¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. No hands were raised, prompting a wide smile to form on the man¡¯s face. ¡°Good! Now, onto the specifics of grading!¡± The man continued with a polite smile, as more and more of the board was starting to fill up with charts, tables, and graphs, all describing and overcomplicating what was in effect, a rather simple and straightforward grading system. A system that was divided into class participation, in-class assessments, homework, as well as the real heavy-hitters - tests and exams. With the former being something done bi-monthly, covering things topic-by-topic, and the latter being administered bi-yearly, as a midterm and final exam. The explanations carried on into the weighting of the exams, which owing to the class being heavy on theory and light on practical studies, meant that most of the examinations would be paper exams as opposed to the practical application of theory; a huge relief on my part. A mysterious group project was also hinted at, although given the vague phrasing, it felt as if it was something of an extra credit thing to be applied if the class underperformed following the midterms. ¡°It is better that this project remain elusive, and be unaddressed until fate¡­ or your performance, forces my hand.¡± More questions were had, and followup answers were bombarded with even more followup questions, as my internal clock ticked away until finally, the clock struck noon. And in the most Nexian way imaginable. As for the first time, I was treated to the school¡¯s ¡®bell¡¯ system, marking the end of the class period with what could only be described as the over the top entrance of a literal marching band. Live music dominated by the CLASH of cymbals echoed throughout the room, and was capped off minutes later by the TINK TINK TINK of triangles that seemed to faze literally nobody else but me. As I stared at the whole 3 minute affair with wide eyes and a baffled expression that for better or for worse was hidden beneath my expressionless helmet. A deep bow from the assorted musicians marked the end of that whole¡­ episode as they simply walked off ¡®stage¡¯ through a dedicated door that had formed to the tune of a mana radiation warning. ¡°We shall continue after lunch. As for now, this first class is dismissed.¡± Qiv led the way out despite being sat at the very front of class, with the rest of his group consisting of the bear-like Uven Kroven, the bat-like Airit, and the hamster-like peer, trailing behind him. But instead of the whole room filing out in an orderly fashion, no one else seemed to follow. That was, until a stern punch to my shoulder by Thalmin, and a sharp glare by Thacea clued me in to the social decorum that was to be expected from me. ¡°Order of departure is sorted by points accrued.¡± Read a note that Thacea passed to me, as I nodded and began filing out as soon as I¡¯d read that note. Following that, the whole room erupted into a surprisingly orderly free for all, or at least as far as I could tell as the view from my rear view cameras went out of frame.
The Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 1210 Emma There seemed to at least be even more universal truths that managed to cross over through time and space, despite the distances involved. Because as I saw it, the lunch rush was as alive as ever, even here in the Academy of all places. Though it didn¡¯t manifest itself in the same way as it did over Earthside. Because instead of the diners of the Grand Dining Hall being prompted to scurry from buffet station to buffet station, or kiosk to kiosk, it was instead the servers who were busy scurrying around with banquets¡¯ worth of dishes perched precariously upon entire dining room table-length trolleys. The whole scene was as chaotic as it was magical, as the same elven servers and members of other species from the other breakfast rushes, struggled to keep up with the growing demands of the students. Though the faculty, staff, and their apprentices seemed to at least be spared from the hectic back and forths, as they sat there on their elevated platforms, above all of the hustle and bustle of the ¡®normal¡¯ dining floor. Interestingly enough, the same elf from our first breakfast was the one to wait at our table. And funnily enough, it was Thalmin who spoke first once again, not even waiting for the poor elf to finish his greetings. ¡°Anything on the menu with MEAT! And second servings too!¡± He barked out, prompting the server to glance towards the rest of the group, each of whom gave their own answers in short order. ¡°Something light, but colorful.¡± Thacea requested, in a way that felt as flighty as it was unnecessarily vague. ¡°Your finest offerings, now.¡± Ilunor followed suit, in that same smug demeanor he always wore. The elf¡¯s gaze eventually landed on me. Which, given my predispositions, forced me to simply give him the same answer I gave a few days prior. ¡°Nothing, thank you, just have whatever the meal of the day is delivered to my room, thanks.¡± I managed out, prompting the elf to simply scurry off shortly thereafter. A mana radiation warning courtesy of the EVI¡¯s warnings folder suddenly dinged. Indicating that a potential cone of silence had been formed around our table, courtesy of either Thacea, Thalmin or even Ilunor. ¡°Emma, we need to discuss what just happened.¡± Thacea began, as she leaned in close, prompting the other two, and even me (despite not necessarily needing to) to do the same. ¡°I know, Thacea, I know. I¡¯m sorry about almost messing up the whole classroom leaving-order. I didn¡¯t know that the points thing meant-¡± ¡°That wasn¡¯t the topic I wanted to raise.¡± Thacea interjected with a sigh. ¡°Our warnings were enough to have you leave without violating decorum. No, the topic I wished to address is your unwitting participation in what is clearly becoming a race for class standing.¡± ¡°Oh. Carry on then.¡± ¡°Through no fault of your own, but through a combination of your decisions, and factors outside of your control and your responses to them, you are quickly cementing yourself as a contender in the race for class standing. You have noticed how Lord Qiv, from the onset of orientation, has consistently offered himself up to the Academy¡¯s whims correct?¡± ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s a textbook example of a teacher¡¯s pet.¡± I acknowledged. The translation to which, seemed to spark some sort of a reaction in the gang as they all reacted to it in their own unique ways. With Thacea in particular narrowing her eyes at that response. ¡°That is true, Emma.¡± Was the extent of her verbal acknowledgement at that before carrying on. ¡°Individuals such as Lord Qiv are to be expected from any year group. And nominally, they would be at worst a neutral party and at best a helpful asset. But it is when one openly challenges such a person that they become¡­ socially belligerent.¡± Thacea spoke carefully, choosing each and every one of her words carefully. ¡°Such as with Auris Ping, the bull.¡± I offered. ¡°When I arrived back after the¡­ explosion, he was trying to rally people to his side; trying to dismiss Qiv¡¯s whole narrative by planting his own. I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s what a direct challenge is like?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Thacea nodded. ¡°Not the most elegant of examples, but given his abrasive character, I expect no less from him.¡± ¡°Which would explain exactly why Qiv is going full¡­ takedown mode on him in class. Even siding with me of all people in order to double down on Auris Ping¡¯s complete social smackdown in front of the whole year group.¡± ¡°Correct, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged with yet another nod. ¡°But as you quickly experienced shortly thereafter, the man just as quickly redirected the momentum of that smackdown as you put it, back towards you.¡± ¡°But thanks to Vanavan¡¯s lack of a backbone, and the fact he deferred Qiv¡¯s question entirely, that never really worked out.¡± ¡°Precisely.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I let out a small sigh, just as the gang¡¯s food arrived. ¡°And I¡¯m assuming Qiv is going to try to get back at me for having not managed to knock me down a peg?¡± ¡°Not necessarily, Emma.¡± Thacea reasoned, pausing for just a moment to sample what appeared to be a multicolored muesli. ¡°There¡¯s a fine line between going after an objective following a perceived social slight, and simply ignoring them following the fact, as going after it may be perceived to be stooping down to a level beneath your own station.¡± The avinor paused, before quickly moving on to another point. ¡°Not that I mean to say you are beneath him of course, Emma. Merely, that in accordance to decorum, you might seem to be through his perspective-¡± ¡°I get it Thacea, no offense taken.¡± I managed out through a forced smile. ¡°There is another social slight you are also overlooking at this point, Emma.¡± Thacea continued. ¡°You mean when I managed to inadvertently step on his toes when we went back and forth insisting that the other gets first-pick of the seats?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°But wasn¡¯t that resolved by Vanavan-¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t about the bickering itself, Emma. Nor the fact both of you stepped up concurrently. It was the choice of seat you chose.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°You see, by stepping up concurrently, the perceived social expectation is that the choice you make will be the same as that of your opponent. Therefore, by choosing the middle seat¡­ you are indirectly inferring that that was the seat Lord Qiv Ratom was intending to choose; thus inferring that he wouldn¡¯t have chosen the most coveted of seats - the front row seats.¡± I took a moment to regard this with a hefty sigh, sinking back into my armor with a dazed expression. ¡°Seriously?¡± Was all I could manage out at this point. ¡°Seriously, Emma.¡± Thacea responded with a nod. ¡°This is known as the Tiemaker¡¯s Statement. Or the Concurrent Gambit if you¡¯re more old fashioned.¡± ¡°This is just way too much, Thacea. Like, unnecessarily so.¡± ¡°That may be true¡­ but it is but an aspect of the social games we play.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m going to assume this is just a small taste of what you¡¯ve been playing over in Aetheronrealm?¡± Thacea paused, leaving her spoon hanging precariously over the edge of the dish, before nodding deeply. ¡°That is correct, Emma. This has been my life from the onset of my first memories¡± ¡°You have my deepest sympathies then¡­¡±
Grand Concourse of Learning, Betreyan¡¯s Hall. Local time: 1400. Emma Lunch took over an hour. The preamble to class, consisting of even more word soup, took another. We were nearly a third of the way in before things finally picked up. And that sweet sweet intel started to flow. Starting with what seemed to be the most obvious pointers stemming from our previous discussions being written on the blackboard behind us.
What is Magic? Magic is the instinctive and/or purposeful manipulation and application of mana in the accomplishment of a given end. The use of magic is seen through instinctive and/or the arbitrary application of mana to achieve a given end. The practice of magic is seen through the learned and theory-based approach of purposefully manipulating mana toward a given end; allowing for more complex and advanced forms of magic to be created from the mind of the sapient. How does one use and practice magic? And how does one manipulate mana?
This next question, unlike the first, was left blank on the blackboard. Which meant exactly what I feared. Another question and answer routine. This time however, I was thankfully spared, as several more students were chosen either at random or at their insistence. With none other than Qiv and Auris being the two who competed for classroom dominance. ¡°By manipulating manastreams!¡± ¡°Through the direction, and redirection of manastreams through the soul!¡± ¡°By channeling latent mana through one¡¯s manafields, thereby controlling its output, changing its properties, and imbuing it with one¡¯s will!¡± Student after student spoke, prompting Vanavan to finally consolidate all the answers into a simple, straightforward response on the blackboard.
¡°The use and practice of magic, irrespective of instinct or learned intent, is accomplished through the channeling and manipulation of latent or stored mana facilitated by a mature manafield.¡±
The blackboard behind the man transcribed his words live, giving it an almost surreal experience as the various pieces of chalk scrambled to match the man¡¯s pace. ¡°Which leads me to my next point¡­ what is a manafield?¡±
What is a manafield?
Several answers were thrown about amongst the crowd, minutes bled into a quarter, then a half hour, before a proper answer was finally drawn up on the board after a full hour had passed.
¡°A manafield is simply an extension of one¡¯s soul. It is a barrier for some, and an appendage for others. In essence, it is what defines a living being, for all living beings must possess a manafield. Whether mature or immature, a manafield is required for the processes of life. For those blessed with the gifts of mana manipulation, born with a mature manafield, it is an appendage by which to manipulate mana. For those born without the gift, born with an immature manafield, it is but a barrier by which one resists the deleterious effects of mana, a membrane by which one siphons just enough for the processes of life.¡±
¡°Any questions?¡± I raised my hand almost immediately. ¡°Yes, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°So, by that definition, can a living being exist without a manafield?¡± Chapter 70: Points of Contention The tables had been turned. Whereas the start of class was marked by a sudden and abrupt question that¡¯d placed me on the spot, the tail end of the class had seen me completely reversing the course of that dynamic. And for similar reasons at that. As in the same vein Vanavan had probed me of all people for a benchmark of the class¡¯ baseline understanding of magic and mana, so too was my intent to probe him for answers to a question that would be helpful in establishing a baseline of the Academy¡¯s written narrative - and by extension, the Nexus¡¯ fundamental beliefs. ¡°Can a living being exist without a manafield? Are you hearing this right now?¡± Came several audible whispers amongst the crowd, the most prominent of which stemmed directly from that of Auris Ping¡¯s entourage that sat several rows in front of us. And so it was that that question now hung in the air. Yet despite my stated intent, a part of me wanted to see just how the man would answer, as a part of me wanted to see just how he¡¯d respond to a question that I knew he knew the answers to. A second of silence punctuated the room following that question, as dead-air was poised to settle, if only Vanavan hadn¡¯t been so inclined to answer almost instinctively. A talent that seemed to be second nature to those socially competent in this room, or in Vanavan¡¯s case, those with the uncanny ability to worm their way out of anything. ¡°By the definition which you are referencing-¡± He pointed at the board. ¡°-no it cannot, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The man spoke with a level of candidness, a degree of confidence, and a complete and utter lack of any sense of doubt in his speech that genuinely made me sick. Because I knew for a fact he understood more than he was letting on publicly. There was a glint in his eyes that indicated he knew as such. Moreover, I still had that recording with him arguing with Mal¡¯tory through one of the crate¡¯s cameras¡­
¡°We¡¯ve seen the existence of a null-fielder, a mana-less, an aura-less capable of feats of craftsmanship that shouldn¡¯t be possible. Consider the ramifications of a society behind the portal that is capable of such a feat without the aid of mana-¡±
A recording that in spite of its inability to record manastreams, meaning it would¡¯ve been completely dismissed as hard-evidence, still served to prove one thing to me¡­ The man knew what he was saying was false. And yet, he didn¡¯t have the backbone to acknowledge it. A part of me wanted to confront him right then and there. But that wasn¡¯t the intent of that question. I just wanted to probe the man for the official party-line narrative. But that didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t press a bit further for that very same purpose, just for thoroughness¡¯ sake. ¡°But why not?¡± I asked plainly. To which several gasps abruptly erupted throughout the room. Though most died down through the surprisingly helpful Qiv, who shushed them down as soon as they arose. ¡°Because all living things have a soul.¡± The professor began. ¡°And all souls project a manafield.¡± ¡°And so a living being, no matter the circumstances, can¡¯t survive without a manafield?¡± I continued, cocking my head as I did so. ¡°No, Cadet Booker. Because a living being cannot exist without a manafield in the first place. For all living things possess a soul, which in turn, guarantees that it possesses a manafield.¡± The man¡­ repeated, once more skirting around my question with the finesse of a 25th century corpo shill. ¡°Moreover, a manafield exists to both nourish the body, and sustain the soul, as well as protecting both; by dictating the flow of mana in and out of a living being. A lack of a manafield, would mean the death of the body by virtue of mana sickness. Which in this hypothetical case, all but guarantees a rather severe and acute bout of mana sickness at that.¡± ¡°But what if you removed ambient mana from the equation? Supposing a lifeform did come into being without a manafield, spawning within an environment with absolutely no ambient mana? Could such a lifeform exist and persist provided a lack of mana on both the side of the lifeform and the environment around them?¡± ¡°Suppositions can be constructed in such a way that any manner of possibilities are capable of being considered as potentially worthwhile, by virtue of imposing an impossible set of circumstances to validate an equally impossible claim.¡± The man, for the first time, actually stood firm. Though perhaps it was more so because he had the word of the Nexus backing him up, rather than him actually standing on his own two feet for something he believed in. ¡°However, if I were to entertain such a thought¡­ then perhaps such a hypothetical may be possible.¡± The man conceded, and for a fraction of a second, shot me a knowing glance. That was, until he transitioned almost immediately to his outward facing persona, as Qiv entered the scene just as quickly. ¡°Even if such a life form did exist, would it not by the definition of life, lack the appropriate axioms by which life is defined, Professor?¡± There was genuine¡­ curiosity there, a playfully dismissive one that was clearly done to dunk on my questions, but one that was still entrenched in something more than just a cold and calculated social maneuver. ¡°Such a lifeform would, in a sense, be living yet not living. Existing somewhere in the spectrum of things that defy definition. Not truly a lifeless golem, yet not truly a living animal.¡± The man speculated, prompting Vanavan to let out a visibly distressed sigh. ¡°A valid and entertaining thought experiment, Lord Qiv. In fact, it is a known thought experiment¡­ but best reserved for advanced classes of speculative philosophy. Which is firmly beyond the scope of the study of this course.¡± The professor made an effort to transition his gaze from Qiv, back to me. ¡°Moreover, these questions pertaining to the nature of manafields and the nature of life, would best be reserved for Professor Belnor, as she shall delve into the fundamental nature of life as a prelude to her Healing Magic class. I wouldn¡¯t want to step on her toes, in the same vein as I wouldn¡¯t want to step on Professor Articord¡¯s toes as it pertains to answers best left to experts in their fields.¡± The man once more paused, as if to consider his transition off of this mess of a topic carefully. ¡°If there are no further questions-¡± ¡°I do not have a question, but merely a Point of Contest, Professor.¡± Auris announced loudly, and with a conniving grin. ¡°Request for a Point of Contest recognized. Please, proceed Lord Ping.¡± Vanavan answered methodically, as if he¡¯d rehearsed this time and time again. ¡°I raise a Point of Contest to Cadet Emma Booker. Considering her lack of tact when it comes to her choice of questions, I wish to impose upon her a more appropriate question that someone such as herself should have asked. Something that is meant to elucidate and expound, rather than to disparage and to evoke misinformation. Something that should serve as a trial of sorts, in assessing her ability to retain the information presented by the noble lessons thus far. I thus pose the following question: Please describe the point where a manafield stops being considered immature and starts being considered mature, and exactly what kind of person embodies this borderline state of being. The former should be easy to extrapolate, the latter should serve as somewhat of a challenge.¡± Vanavan seemed to regard Auris¡¯ question for a moment, before relenting with a solid nod. ¡°Point of Contest approved, Lord Ping. Cadet Booker-¡± the man now turned towards me. ¡°-do you wish to answer? Or do you wish to concede? A concession will incur a loss of up to five points. An incorrect answer will incur a toll of up to ten points.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe what I was hearing. As this convoluted system of points was now truly showing its colors as a strange means of enforcing, controlling, and manipulating the machinations of this arbitrary pseudo-hierarchy. I wanted nothing more than to point out the inanity of the system. But at the same time. I didn¡¯t want to back down from a challenge. Not from Auris Ping of all people. ¡°I¡¯ll gladly answer it.¡± I announced with a sharp side-eye towards Auris, not that he could see it. ¡°Since a mature manafield is defined as one that¡¯s matured enough to manipulate mana, and an immature manafield is defined by manafields that are incapable of manipulating mana, insofar as anything beyond the regulation of mana in and out of the soul for survival is concerned-¡± I paused tactically, before turning to the EVI. ¡°EVI, pull up a transcript of what Ilunor said about gifted commoners or whatever again? Timestamp should be somewhere during our first breakfast together.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡±
¡°I thought magic was exclusive to those in higher places and the elite-¡± ¡°He¡¯s a gifted commoner, Earthrealmer. Certain commoners have some magical abilities through sheer luck of the draw, or by some gift of some minor deity. Although most of it is relegated to . . . . Casting Levitate on objects. Moving an item across a room at a distressingly slow pace. Maybe something else if they¡¯re lucky . . . However, by virtue of having some ability, they¡¯re instantly a slight cut above the rabble.¡±
¡°Bingo.¡± ¡°Well, Cadet Booker? Have you lost your gumption to proceed-¡± Auris couldn¡¯t wait but to interrupt my sudden bout of silence, but even that didn¡¯t last for long as I completely ignored his premature flex by finishing my answer. ¡°-the point where the immature becomes the mature is defined when the manafield in question becomes just strong enough to perform at least one particular type of magic.¡± I answered plain and simple, wiping that smug look off Auris¡¯ face, if only for a moment. ¡°And as for my second point?¡± He urged, his face resuming that signature bullish confidence that radiated with a smugness that somehow rivaled Ilunor¡¯s. Yet was, by virtue of perhaps a lack of draconic heritage, not quite on par with my smug deluxe kobold. ¡°And to answer the second part of your question, Lord Ping? I believe an example of such a person would be found within the ranks of the gifted commoners. In fact, I believe that¡¯s what more or less defines them, if I recall correctly.¡± I answered plainly and simply, as I stood my ground, awaiting his reactions. Sure enough, the bull¡¯s smug grin devolved into a stoic look of frustration. Which meant the second part of my gambit could begin. ¡°And on that note, Lord Ping?¡± I began with a certain cattiness, as I bared out my fangs within the confines of my helmet. ¡°I believe the latter half of your question would¡¯ve been better reserved for another subject, maybe social studies, since this might have been a misstep too far into Professor Articord¡¯s domain.¡± The look of stoic frustration quickly evolved to an enraged glare, as if reality allowed it, steam would¡¯ve been billowing out of those nostrils right about now. ¡°I call this Point of Contest to an end, Lord Ping, Cadet Booker.¡± Vanavan quickly announced, prompting Ping to refocus his attention squarely on the professor. ¡°And I find Cadet Booker¡¯s answers to be satisfactory, at least as it pertains to the content we have covered thus far.¡± The man went silent for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between Auris and myself. ¡°Moreover, I find that Cadet Booker has a point, Lord Ping. The latter half of your question does veer into the realm of social studies. However, I do concede that it is a point that straddles the line in that sense. I will thus deduct no points for the relevancy of the question.¡± Auris breathed a sigh of relief at this. ¡°Two points to Lord Ping for a successful Point of Contest.¡± Vanavan continued, prompting a small smile to reform at the edges of his muzzle. But it was clear Vanavan wasn¡¯t about to leave it at that. ¡°And five points to Cadet Booker for a successful response to this Point of Contest.¡± The man announced abruptly, prompting that smile to once more fade, as the whiplash of his social gambit having failed successfully must¡¯ve hit him hard. Throughout all this, Qiv¡¯s eyes remained practically transfixed on our back and forths. Having only shifted away at the tail end of the whole discussion. ¡°And with that, I would like to-¡± Vanavan started up, only to be interrupted by the slamming of the door, and the arrival of the academy¡¯s stand-in for a bell system - the marching band. Although, unlike with lunch, they didn¡¯t enter just yet; now poised awkwardly in between the doorway and the lecture hall proper with eyes trained on the blue-robed professor expectantly. ¡°Let it be known that I am a man who abides by the traditions of the Academy, and the schedule predetermined by the powers that be.¡± Vanavan acknowledged with a sigh, towards us, and the band members in question. ¡°However, before we end this class, there is the matter of homework to discuss.¡± That latter statement was enough to draw the groans and moans of the room, silenced once more by Qiv. ¡°How does a manafield function? And through what means does one direct mana into a simple spell?¡± The man spoke, the pieces of chalk behind him writing down the question in bold off to the side. ¡°Next class, we shall continue with an emphasis on the topic of mana, its nature, its origins, as well as an introduction as to the primary focus of mana theory. But for now, class is dismissed!¡± No sooner did the man announce that dismissal did the band erupt into a chorus of cheery tunes. The whole thing lasted precisely three minutes just as it did during the lunch dismissal, before finally subsiding as they exited through a magically apparating door to the tune of yet another mana radiation warning. Following that, came the departure organized by cumulative points. Of which, the EVI was keeping tally of. With Qiv¡¯s group leading the way with a whopping 37 points, and surprisingly¡­ our own trailing behind at a respectable 25, Thacea and Ilunor having contributed a lot during the bulk of class. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it It was Auris Ping¡¯s group that trailed behind us at 22 however, and I could see him practically seething through my rearview camera with that piercing glare that didn¡¯t let up until we finally left the lecture hall proper, and took a different path towards our tower. The first day of classes was over. And I was already yearning for summer break, or whatever constituted summer break here in the Nexus.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 16:20 Hours. Emma We all arrived back to the dorms with a collective sigh of relief. Or at least, I did, followed close in tow by Thalmin. Ilunor and Thacea however kept their emotions closer to their chest, as all of us eventually found ourselves drawn to what was becoming our conference area - the two couches and armchairs nestled close to the fireplace at a particularly cozy corner of the room. ¡°So¡­ I hope that was like¡­ an acceptable first day by your standards?¡± I spoke with a breath of exhaustion All eyes were on me as beak, snout, and muzzle opened at the same time, poised for what I could tell would be a lengthy debrief¡­
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 17:20 Hours. Emma It was, in fact, a lengthy debrief. Mainly covering what Thacea had already covered during lunch, but with the annoyed flare of Ilunor¡¯s distinctly snappy and yappy commentary, and Thalmin¡¯s ever-supportive rebellious vibe. Overall though, the general consensus was that things went relatively well, all things considered. Especially with the curveball that was thrown at the start of class at the behest of Vanavan. And once I¡¯d clarified exactly why I¡¯d pushed Vanavan on the subject of nullfielders, and the expected chastising from the likes of Thacea that followed, there wasn¡¯t really much to touch on aside from one other topic. Points. The unexpected point accumulation was going to be a boon and a headache, because as Thacea put it: ¡°It is best to be middling, to avoid becoming a target, but to remain high enough on the ladder not to become a pawn in some greater game.¡± Suggestions were had on whether or not we should pursue point accumulation. Especially in the face of what it meant for the peer groups, and the weight it carried beyond just social clout and exclusive opportunities. Passing or failing. Because in addition to being a tangible social currency, the fact that a bare minimum threshold of points were an additional prerequisite for passing, meant that these things were serious even for those who didn¡¯t want to participate in the social games. Which made it impossible not to participate at all, if you wanted to make it out of the year. ¡°So let me get this straight.¡± I began. ¡°You¡¯re saying that this point system began as a way to incentivize people to quote ¡®participate in social discourse and class activities¡¯?¡± ¡°Yes, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged. ¡°And that¡¯s why they made it a prerequisite to actually pass the school year?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s kinda messed up. I thought school was just supposed to be about proving your academic worth, not forcing social obligations upon you.¡± I sighed before shaking my head. ¡°Whatever, your point still stands, Thacea. As long as we get the minimum threshold, which is a guarantee if we stay right in the middle, then we should be fine.¡± This, however, didn¡¯t sit well with the other two. Thalmin and Ilunor, much to my surprise, actually agreed on something for once. As both of their egos could quite simply not take the purposeful and willing deferral of points as Thacea had so thoughtfully suggested. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t need to worry about such things if we merely participated in the competition. As these points aren¡¯t simply a utilitarian criterion for dictating our passage into the next year, but more importantly, it also defines our place in the hierarchy.¡± Thalmin reasoned. ¡°A hierarchy which is a complete farce, a social construct, and a political tool meant for the Academy¡¯s control. Which is in turn, given out arbitrarily by the whims of a faculty that for the most part are Nexian ideologues.¡± I finally spoke with a frustrated vigor. That seemed to be a turning point for Thalmin, as he went silent, and considered my words carefully. ¡°Oh come now, Prince Thalmin. This is a game that we must play! For what else are we to do, but partake in the theater that fate has thrust upon us?¡± Ilunor spoke candidly, as he tried ¡®reasoning¡¯ with the lupinor prince. A prince who, after a long and drawn out sigh, finally responded with tired and frustrated eyes. ¡°I understand where you are coming from, Emma.¡± He admitted. ¡°I was missing the forest for the trees when looking at that particular aspect of the issue. I will concede, but only with a compromise. I will not allow us to purposefully sabotage ourselves from answering questions or challenges that are directed towards us. That is a line I will not cross. It is weakness and disingenuous if we do that just to control our point accumulation. I will however, accept that we take a less proactive role in accruing points. That is, I will accept it if we do not actively seek out challenges in the classroom.¡± ¡°Sounds like a solid plan to me.¡± I acknowledged, before turning to Thacea. ¡°Thacea?¡± ¡°An acceptable compromise, Prince Thalmin.¡± Thacea responded with a single nod, before I turned to Ilunor who sat there with an incredulous pout. ¡°I will have to think about this.¡± The Vunerian announced in no uncertain terms, prompting Thaceea to quickly take that victory, prompting a small bout of silence to form as our seemingly endless back and forths finally came to a close. ¡°In any case, we should be off to dinner.¡± Thalmin announced abruptly, as he stood up to full height, practically jolting from the couch with excitement. ¡°I¡¯m just about famished.¡± This prompted the other two to follow suit, as they all approached the door with a few back and forths, but not before I made my own little announcement. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to miss out on this one guys.¡± I admitted, my hand instinctively reaching for the back of my neck. ¡°You know the drill¡­ I can¡¯t really eat anything anyways. So I¡¯m just going to spend the time doing a few experiments with the food I got from lunch-¡± I pointed to the trolley sitting at the entrance of my dorm. ¡°-as well as a few other chores I have to deal with my tent and such.¡± The three nodded in varying degrees of understanding, and with a few more words exchanged, and Thalmin¡¯s promise that he¡¯d be sending me a dinner care package, they eventually left. Leaving me alone with a load of foodstuffs, an awaiting M-REDD, and another mission that needed to be addressed sooner rather than later. ¡°Alright, EVI. Let¡¯s start the asset retrieval mission.¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room, Main Balcony. Local Time: 21:00 Hours. Emma As the groundbreaking explorations of Darwins III and IV have taught us, drones can and will act as a vital extra set of eyes, ears, and hands, in a hostile and unforgiving environment. With exploratory and military doctrine having appropriated drones into what was in effect, an extension of the human operator, there was a niche for practically every conceivable variant of the concept of the unmanned remotely operated aircraft. The one I sat cross-legged in front of was no different. In fact, it was a tried and proven big boy that had proved its worth time and time again in both exploratory and combat capacities. The Mobile Transport, Command, and Operations Vehicle Mark. 104¡­ MT-COV if you¡¯re a technocrat, or the MOTHERSHIP if you¡¯re an operator, was a behemoth when compared to the rest of my compact drones. With its size making it just barely capable of squeezing through the balcony doors, it would¡¯ve been difficult to carry without the armor, but not impossible. For the Mt. Cove Industries¡¯¡­ MT-COV, was meant to be the most flexible, rugged, and adaptable drone operations platform that a sole operator could handle. And was designed for a theoretical war the LREF was always readying for. A scenario that I now find myself in - cut off from supplies, logistics, and acting as the sole operator of an entire mission. The thing was perfect for this, down to the efficient packaging that was only made possible by the consultation of a certain Swedish furniture firm of all people; allowing for the disassembly of the MT-COV into one of the crates with a surprisingly negligible footprint. Though that came with the caveat that setup and assembly was a pain and a half to get through. But thankfully, I had the EVI and my ARMS to aid in that journey. Otherwise it would¡¯ve taken far, far longer than an hour to fully assemble. But that was only half of the story, the next half was the temporary signal booster setup, which came in the form of a spindly, yet tall, retractable tower that I¡¯d planted onto the floor of the balcony. That took some more time to configure. But after all was said and done, I was ready. ¡°Alright, EVI. Get the Drone Operator HUD presets running. Get my wannabe aerial operator playlist shuffling. And bring up all pertinent mission data. It¡¯s time to save Corporal Bryan, and bring our boys home.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± Everything started off with a hair-raising, oddly satisfying, wonderfully industrial and mechanical - ka-thunk! - signaling the successful termination of the drone¡¯s internal diagnostics and automatic pre-flight checks. It was admittedly a less than objective means of assessing the air-worthiness of the thing, and was definitely not auditor friendly when it came to the actual written checklist. But it was a tried and true sign that all was right with the drone. With some seasoned flight mechanics capable of telling almost exactly the issues present just from the startup sounds alone, all before a proper diagnostics panel ever reached their AR lenses. I was, of course, nowhere near that seasoned. And so it was up to the EVI, and my own discretion, to follow the more traditional route of pre-flight checklists; combing through diagnostic panel after diagnostic panel to make sure everything was right. Sure enough, not a single issue came through. So without much more prompting, I proceeded with the drone¡¯s startup using its dedicated physical controller. And after a millisecond¡¯s worth of syncing, came the corresponding blinking of my virtual flight-HUD that parsed from an idle grey-white, to a bright caution-orange, to what was finally an all-clear tactical green. With that, came the actual whirring of all four engines, and the surprisingly quiet yet high-pitched whistling of the turbines that spooled up to flight-appropriate speeds in practically no time at all. There wasn¡¯t much of a backdraft too, even as I began twirling the nacelles that housed the engines around in a variety of axes as part of the MT-COV¡¯s final pre-mission stress tests. ¡°Alright.¡± I announced. ¡°EVI, pull up the status of the drones prior to Vanavan blinking me back to the Academy.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡±
DRONE FLEET STATUS: [INFIL-DRONE01¡­ CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION] [INFIL-DRONE02¡­ CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION] [INFIL-DRONE03¡­ CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION] [INFIL-DRONE04¡­ CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION] [INFIL-DRONE05¡­ OPERATION UNDERWAY IN DEAN¡¯S OFFICE] [SUR-DRONE01¡­ INSIGNIFICANT DAMAGE ON IMPACT WITH TARGET: MAL¡¯TORY, CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION] [SUR-DRONE02¡­ STATUS NOMINAL¡­ STANDING BY.] [SUR-DRONE03¡­ SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE ON IMPACT WITH MASSIVE UNIDENTIFIED AIRBORNE ORGANISM, UNABLE TO STAND BY]
¡°Alright.¡± I sighed inwardly. ¡°Let¡¯s see about getting 02 back, seeing if any wreckage remains of 01, and finding out exactly what the hell¡¯s up with 03.¡± An affirmative ping marked the start of the mission proper, as the whistling of the turbines reached their peak, and the drone took off from the balcony. With music blaring in my helmet, I began immersing myself in the virtual pilot seat of the drone, as it began meandering up and out of the Academy grounds, starting its trajectory towards the town below. The immersion really began after a few minutes. I just about managed to convince myself that I was there in the nonexistent miniature seat of the drone¡¯s nonexistent cockpit. My gut began dropping just as the drone hit a few bouts of turbulence. And my whole body shook inside of my suit as it shook from side to side. My mind was convinced that I was out there flying around. That was, until¡­ ¡°Emma Booker.¡± Everything shattered to the tune of a nasally shrill voice. I stopped the drone mid flight. And I could just about feel my heart jumping right out of my chest at the sudden arrival of the only person in our group that voice could¡¯ve belonged to. ¡°Yes, Ilunor?¡± I managed out through a frustrated breath. The Vunerian took that response as an invitation to skitter onto the balcony, his eyes darting across every piece of equipment, following the path of the powerline that connected the generator, all the way to the signal booster planted firmly beside me. I expected him to chew me out, to say something that would show his disdain for the supposed mana-less artifices. But nothing came. Instead, the Vunerian¡¯s eyes remained surprisingly busy, as if he was preoccupied with something else at the back of his mind. ¡°Taking your¡­ manaless artifices on a leisurely flight I see?¡± He began, using a tone of voice that immediately raised alarms of suspicion throughout every fiber of my cautious mind, just by how proactively friendly he sounded. ¡°Something like that, yeah.¡± I answered reluctantly. ¡°It¡¯s good to stretch your wings, you know. I know my drakes at home need to be flown every other day lest their muscles and manafields begin atrophying.¡± He continued unabated, joining me next to the railing as if approaching an old friend for a chat. ¡°O-kay.¡± I nodded, responding curtly. ¡°Good to know.¡± ¡°You know my drakes can manage a reasonably sizable range in a single flight.¡± He maintained that nonchalant attitude, prompting me to squint my eyes even further. ¡°Thousands of leagues, maybe more. Which makes me curious as to just how far your pets can fly, hm?¡± There it was. ¡°It depends.¡± I began with a distrustful breath. ¡°I have a bunch of models, each of them with their respective range.¡± Ilunor nodded in friendly reciprocation, before pointing towards the MT-COV. ¡°How about that one? What is the range on that?¡± ¡°More than enough range to reach the town from the Academy, many many times over. More if I attach external battery packs that¡¯ll extend its range but hamper other aspects of its performance, like its speed, maneuverability, and the like.¡± The Vunerian nodded slowly. ¡°And how fast can it fly?¡± ¡°Well¡­ pretty fast.¡± I answered vaguely, meeting Ilunor tit for tat with how suspicious he was being. ¡°As fast as the typical bird?¡± He shot back. ¡°Faster than the fastest bird.¡± I responded just as quickly, prompting the Vunerian to once more re-enter that thoughtful state of mind with a renewed silence. ¡°And without talons or magic, does it have the capacity for self defense¡­ or offense for that matter? Does it have an equivalent of your¡­ gun attached somewhere to it? Is it capable of-¡± I narrowed my eyes rapidly as Ilunor¡¯s questions went down a rambling path, prompting me to interject before he could go any further. ¡°Just what are you playing at here, Ilunor?¡± That insistence seemed to finally break through the Vunerian¡¯s otherwise uncharacteristically engaged shell, as he finally let out a sigh. ¡°Always one for bluntness above decorum, aren¡¯t we, earthrealmer?¡± Those words barely had time to hang in the air, before the Vunerian shifted his gaze - to one of vague distress. ¡°I once more find myself at my wit¡¯s end, earthrealmer¡­ and as much as this displeases me to say¡­ I need your help.¡± He finally admitted, before pointing to the MT-COV hovering in the far off distance. I sighed deeply, reaching to pinch the nonexistence bridge of my nose. ¡°What kind of help are we talking about here, Ilunor?¡± ¡°One that requires the assistance of one of your drones-¡± He paused, before glancing over to my holster. ¡°-and the aid of your gun.¡± Chapter 71: Angry Birds [MOTHERSHIP STANDING BY¡­ REQUESTING PILOT INPUT] I stood there, in silence, my glazed-over eyes locking with that of the Vunerian who stood defiantly at my shins. [MOTHERSHIP STANDING BY¡­ REQUESTING PILOT INPUT] The incessant reminders from the flight-warning systems blared at me to refocus my attention back to the task at hand. And yet¡­ I found myself incapable of doing so, as the Vunerian had transitioned from simply gesturing at my gun with his eyeballs, to outright pointing at it with an index finger, dropping all pretenses at subtlety. I was at a loss for words. ¡°Initiate automatic flightpath mode, Cadet Booker?¡± The EVI finally chimed in, pulling me out of my reverie of disbelief as I finally found it in me to respond. ¡°No, no. Just keep it where it is. Hold position until I get this situation sorted.¡± I ordered. ¡°Acknowledged. Holding position.¡± With that out of the way, I now placed my attention squarely on the Vunerian, pinning my armored fists against my armored hips. There was no other way of addressing this. For one word was enough to sum up my confusions up to this point. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor replied with a huff, though not an indignant one, for whatever that was worth. ¡°I am at a loss for my current situation.¡± He admitted reluctantly, practically forcing those words through his teeth. ¡°I will be forthright in addressing what needs to be addressed, as you will require every detail necessary in order to aid me in our urgent quest.¡± ¡°Alright Ilunor, stop beating around the bush and let¡¯s get to the point.¡± I practically growled out. ¡°I require your assistance in the interception of a courier, Emma Booker. A courier who currently holds the keys to my future. A future with which I had hastily decided to surrender, under former pretenses that have since fundamentally changed, all thanks to your merciful and resourceful nature.¡± The Vunerian spoke with a poetic, almost sing-song cadence, finding it in him to draft a whole poem before addressing anything tangible. ¡°This courier has, in his hands, the echoes of my own short-sightedness that once more threaten to doom me.¡± That was, until he finally seemed to get to the point. ¡°Do you recall the letter you¡­ took from my possession a few days prior?¡± He inquired with a clear hint of frustration. It wasn¡¯t clear however whether those frustrations were born from this situation, or whether he was still holding a grudge over my snooping of his letter a few days prior. ¡°Yeah, I do. Your renunciation of your noble titles, right?¡± I replied, before letting out a sigh, lifting my hand up to my forehead. ¡°Did it somehow get through the mail? Did you forget to cancel it or put it on pause or something-?¡± ¡°Do you consider me so absent-minded that I would commit such a blunder?¡± Ilunor interjected, for a moment dropping his courteous act and returning to that scathing tone of indignancy, capped off with a kobold hiss. ¡°Judging by how you¡¯ve self-admitted to ¡®foolish¡¯ and ¡®short-sighted¡¯ actions twice now? I¡¯m leaning towards yes rather than no, just going off of objective data trends.¡± I replied bluntly, prompting the Vunerian to let out an even louder, more aggressive hiss. That little outburst didn¡¯t last for long however, as either the truth finally began sinking in, or the time crunch he was under finally started pushing him past the outburst phase with a weak slump. ¡°Your observations, whilst tantamount to judging a person by the sum of a week¡¯s worth of correspondences¡­ are understandable to me. For if I were in your position, I would more than likely have responded in a similar manner.¡± The Vunerian acknowledged through a strained breath. My eyes widened in reaction to this rare act of empathy. ¡°But to get to the point; no, I did not simply forget. What¡¯s more, that was my first order of business following the conclusion of our library misadventures. No, what seems to have transpired is a form of¡­ miscommunication. A fault that had manifested somewhere along the line. Either through deliberate sabotage or an inability to act within the strict timeline of the bowmen, it would seem as if my actions have not had their intended effect¡­ and the letter is now somewhere within the wider system of shadow couriers; fast approaching its trailless trek.¡± I shot out my hand, signaling for the Vunerian to pause following that unexpected dump of words that didn¡¯t necessarily add up due to a single, yet key missing context. ¡°EVI, did you translate that right? Bowmen? I need a disambiguation parse.¡± ¡°Parsing complete. Translation is accurate, Cadet Booker. Consider inquiring [Ilunor] for further disambiguation.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s back up a bit.¡± I began. ¡°First off, bowmen?¡± I scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m sure you didn¡¯t hand off your letter to a bunch of archers, right?¡± Ilunor sighed, moving both hands up towards his temples. ¡°It¡¯s a wordplay upon an acronym, Emma Booker. The Whisperwind Society''s Whispermen. Hence, bowman.¡± Ilunor replied succinctly, prompting the EVI to chime in just as quickly before confusion could take hold. ¡°Point of conflict detected. The High Nexian acronym for the Whisperwind Society¡¯s Whispermen, appears to phonetically match the colloquial pronunciation of the High Nexian term for [Bowman/Archer/Hunter]. New esoteric colloquialism added to the [Working Language Database].¡± ¡°Oh.¡± I replied promptly, my response directed towards the EVI and Ilunor in equal measure. ¡°Understood.¡± I continued, before moving off from that point just as quickly. ¡°I assume you do not need me to explain the concept of shadow couriers next, earthrealmer?¡± ¡°Yeah, no, shadow couriers are pretty self explanatory.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°Language localisms aside, let me ask you this, Ilunor. Why do you need my drone?¡± I paused, before gesturing towards the gun. ¡°And my gun as well for that matter?¡± ¡°The two are necessary for my plan to dispatch with this troublesome situation once and for all. Only through the use of your drone, and a weapon such as your gun, can we hope to stop this letter.¡± I paused for a moment, putting two and two together as a flipbook-style animation began manifesting in my head¡­ of Ilunor arming himself with a pistol, before catching a flight down into town to deal with one of these shadow couriers personally. ¡°So you want to hitch a ride on the drone into town, with the intent of shooting one of these bowmen before they can-?¡± ¡°What? No! By His Eternal Majesty¡¯s grace, no!!¡± Ilunor shot back in disbelief, before slowly, but surely, shifting to a thoughtful, pondering look. ¡°Perhaps in any other circumstance, I might have considered it¡­ but no, not now. Not at this particular junction.¡± He promptly ¡®corrected¡¯ himself; causing me to shoot him an unamused look of frustration. ¡°So what do you need them for?¡± ¡°For a fight that only your drone can perform.¡± He answered cryptically. ¡°By means of attaching that manaless ranged weapon, onto your manaless flying artifice.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe what I was hearing right now¡­ as I took a moment to regard the Vunerian¡¯s words with genuine disbelief. ¡°My drone has weapons, Ilunor.¡± I replied plainly. Ilunor¡¯s eyes blinked rapidly at that response, as he turned his eyes from my holster, towards the drone, then back towards my holster in rapid succession. He opened his mouth, as if poised to make an argument, before second-guessing himself with a sullen sigh. ¡°My apologies for being proactive with my imagination and what limited information I had to work with, Emma Booker. For I saw no talons, no obvious weapons of the sort, and thus logically assumed it was defenseless; thus necessitating the addition of your ranged weapon.¡± He pointed to my gun once more, illustrating his point. ¡°Either way, my urging stems from a lack of transparency on your end, Emma Booker.¡± The Vunerian quickly broke into an inward sigh. ¡°But no matter. I must ask then: what manner of weapons do you have within that drone?¡± ¡°That depends, Ilunor.¡± I spoke firmly, crossing my arms as I did so. ¡°What kind of fight are we looking at?¡± ¡°One of the aerial variety, Emma Booker.¡± I narrowed my eyes at that answer. ¡°So¡­ airmail. Your letter is being shipped out via airmail.¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± I sighed once more, reaching to clasp my forehead with a firm metallic slap. ¡°Alright, what are we facing up against? A wyvern? A dragon? A gryphon? A dragon-wyvern-gryphon hybrid?¡± I rattled on, eliciting a sharp quirk of the Vunerian¡¯s brow as he shook his head slowly. ¡°None of the above, but I¡¯m surprised you know of a dragon-wyvern-gryphon hybrid given your status as a newrealmer, Emma Booker.'''' He reasoned. ¡°Wait, what-¡± ¡°But that is beside the point.¡± He cut me off before we could dive into another tangent. ¡°Our target isn¡¯t any of the above¡­ it is simply a messenger bird.¡± I blinked rapidly at that answer. My whole mind practically stopped as I heard what we were up against. And not because of fear. But a huge sense of relief. Because despite the armaments present on the mothership, it was nowhere near capable of taking down a dragon; something I feared would¡¯ve been what we were up against. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I finally managed out with a massive sigh of relief. ¡°Do not be fooled by the innocuous nature of this target, Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor warned darkly. ¡°For what it lacks in conspicuous strength, it makes up for in inconspicuous camouflage.¡± ¡°Good point.¡± I acknowledged, actually agreeing with Ilunor as it felt like we were about to enter an actual productive conversation for once. ¡°So any pointers on how we can spot this thing?¡± ¡°Our target will be a bird of the feral and typical variety. Anything from a sparrow to a phoenix.¡± He paused, before correcting his course. ¡°Though I doubt you¡¯d find much of the latter given its rarity in this part of the Nexus.¡± The Vunerian shrugged. ¡°As for any distinguishing features? Manafields, Emma Booker. This particular bird will have a slightly above average ebb within the flow of mana than most. Like a rock parting the streams of water in a creek.¡± He explained. ¡°So any above average surge in mana then?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Right then, I can do that.¡± I acknowledged, shifting myself and my gaze back to the mothership, before realizing something else. ¡°And exactly how many birds in the Nexus typically generate an above average surge in mana radiation on a typical day-to-day basis?¡± ¡°I am not a bird scholar, Emma Booker. But from what I understand, it is a somewhat typical occurrence, yes.¡± ¡°So¡­ how do we pick out yours from the crowd?¡± ¡°Does your drone carry limited ammunition?¡± He answered with an innocent cock of his head. ¡°Yes.¡± I answered flatly, and with an unamused look underneath the helmet. ¡°Are you insinuating that we shoot down literally every bird that happens to have even an above average surge in mana radiation?¡± ¡°That is correct, Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor replied, unbothered and completely nonplussed. ¡°If ammunition is a concern, this may prove-¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s not my main concern! I¡¯m more worried about A. Blowing our cover, and B. Collateral damage in the form of a lot of unnecessary dead animals.¡± Ilunor paused, actually considering those points. ¡°You raise valid concerns¡­ if these manaless weapons are anywhere near as loud as your gun, then this may raise more suspicions in the town below than would be preferable.¡± The Vunerian began stroking the undersuit of his chin, pondering the situation at hand, despite not even addressing the collateral damage issue¡­ ¡°You claimed your drone was: ¡®faster than the fastest bird¡¯?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Then I must ask, does your drone have some sort of manual manipulator?¡± ¡°Like a claw or an extendable hand?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°I can do you one better.¡± I smiled. ¡°It has nets, ones that can be deployed and reeled back mid-air. Meant for drone retrieval and enemy drone capture but¡­ I guess it could double as a bird-capture tool. The holes are small enough that a sparrow wouldn¡¯t be able to escape through it after all.¡± The Vunerian responded to this revelation with a hopeful nod, as it seemed as if our minds were clicking on exactly what needed to be done next. ¡°And I assume these nets are silent, reusable and plentiful?¡± ¡°Correct on all accounts, Ilunor.¡± ¡°Then I suggest we begin post-haste.¡± He couldn¡¯t help but let off a slight twitch of his lips for a miniscule smile, before shrinking it just as quickly as it seemed like another thought entered his mind. ¡°I assume you have confidence in your drone¡¯s ability to see in the darkness of the night?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ You know what? Why don¡¯t I address those concerns by just letting you see for yourself, Ilunor?¡± I offered vaguely, prompting the Vunerian to raise his brow ridge curiously. ¡°How?¡± ¡°By seeing the world through the eyes of a manaless artifice.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡­ Ilunor now had front row seats to the bird¡¯s eye¡­ or more accurately, the virtual-cockpit¡¯s view of the drone as I continued maneuvering it carefully into town. The active-camo surfaces and the distance from the town itself provided a safe screen by which to operate with a level of discretion. Funnily enough, Ilunor had done the same for our end of the operation: casting a cone of silence and some magical camo around the balcony which hid us from any unsuspecting eyes and ears. We had full visibility over the entire town from the drone¡¯s vantage point, save for a single district that seemed to be covered in an unnaturally forming fog that started and ended along strangely artificial lines¡ªdemarcated by the abrupt cessation of an opaque gray mist along streetlines and rooftops instead of naturally thinning out over a large distance. Aside from that¡­ anomaly¡­ the whole town was right there for us to see. I didn¡¯t even need to turn on night-vision mode given how bright everything was even this late into the night. Despite that, the drone¡¯s automatic functions ¡ª aided by the EVI ¡ª was parsing through every available spectral range within the cameras and sensors¡¯ capabilities, creating this almost otherworldly composite layering effect upon the live feed that was as chaotic as it was oddly mesmerizing. A sentiment that seemed to be shared by the Vunerian whose eyes were practically glued to the screen right now, his expression shifting constantly between confusion, concern, anxiety, and a level of worry probably stemming from what was on the line rather than the view itself. ¡°And is this¡­ the world as is seen through your eyes, earthrealmer?¡± He asked slowly. ¡°No, I mean¡­ it can with the aid of my armor and its sensors. What I usually see is what you saw in my sight-seer though; so, no. However, this is typically what my drones can see. As it allows it to better accomplish its various missions, such as the one I originally set it out to do.¡± I answered curtly, just as several things began happening on my end of the live feed. Namely, the rescue operation of the survey drones that survived the blast. Of which only one managed to dock with the mothership successfully so far. For the most part though, this segment of the operation was done in silence. Despite that, I still had one eye open towards the skies, for the sake of Ilunor¡¯s added side quest. Though it was clear from the tap-tap-tapping of his feet that Ilunor wasn¡¯t the type to be composed in these calm before the storm situations. However, just as he was about to address his anxieties, opening his mouth to question it¡ª [ALERT: TARGET PARAMETERS MET. TARGET GROUP BEARING GRID 107, 395, 225. TRAJECTORY CALCULATED. INTERCEPT? Y/N] All hell quickly broke loose. Several things started happening all at once now. And Ilunor was for the first time, getting to see first-hand the hectic realities of modern combat¡­ or at the very least a toned down version of it. My entire focus now shifted to my HUD, the flock of birds that had originated from the outskirts of town becoming almost like a flight of enemy drones in my mind. Training and reflexes kicked in, augmented by the EVI¡¯s micro-corrections to the mothership¡¯s course, as we caught up to the speedy group of avians whose velocities would¡¯ve been impressive to an ornithologist¡­ but failed to impress the drone-operator within me. This made my hyperfocus less necessary, as by the point I¡¯d arrived above the flock, the whole battle was already decided. It was now like shooting fish in a barrel. The whole thing was over with a push of a button, the flock of birds didn¡¯t even know what hit them as the drone deployed a massive high-tensile e-warfare rated netting. One that would¡¯ve otherwise absolutely fried or disabled non-hardened electronics on-contact, and rendered all radio communications from within and without inert. But on this occasion, merely acted as an overengineered animal capture tool, which - to its credit - was a role it slipped into seamlessly. This was true even as the whole flight of birds began absolutely panicking mid-air, their wings flapping about in sheer distress, their collective weight and absolute terror causing the inexperienced Ilunor to become visibly worried for the flight stability of the mothership. However, given the fact that it was rated for enemy drone capture and retrieval¡­ no amount of flapping from even a hundred birds would¡¯ve made much of a dent on the sturdily engineered machine. ¡°Batch one captured!¡± I announced with an ecstatic cheer. ¡°Now, do any of these look like what we¡¯re looking for, Ilunor?¡± I asked, before pointing all cameras at the panicked net of birds, some of which occasionally glanced towards one of the mothership¡¯s many unfeeling camera lenses with unadulterated terror. The Vunerian began combing through the footage, his face clearly frustrated by the lack of a manastream no doubt, but trying to make do as he seemed hyper fixated on their talons. ¡°Shake them.¡± He ordered unenthusiastically. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing. Shake them vigorously, earthrealmer. There¡¯s an art to this process.¡± He reasoned, prompting me to genuinely question his sanity, before going through with it anyways. The whole net-full of birds let out a cacophony of terrified squawks and traumatized cries at that, as the Vunerian began tilting his head to and fro, before sighing. ¡°Use your manual manipulator to go through each one, bring it up to your drone¡¯s eyes, and allow me to inspect them closely.¡± I complied, not because of any sense of faith in the Vunerian¡¯s plans, but because he was nominally in charge of determining exactly whether or not we¡¯d caught our target. A proportionally sized mechanical arm emerged from the underside of the drone, one that was three-clawed as opposed to my five-fingered backpack-mounted ARMS, which seemed to repulse the Vunerian even more so. With a small calibration of its servos, it immediately jammed itself into the net, prompting even more panicked squawks to erupt before it managed to pull out what looked to be a cross between a seagull and a puffin. Its chest heaving as its little head cocked back and forth in every direction. ¡°No.¡± Ilunor announced after a cursory look, prompting the drone to release it, where it quickly flew off into the night. ¡°Next.¡± The whole process was repeated, to the tune of panicked squawks and cold unfeeling whirrs. Ending with another resounding ¡°No.¡± from the Vunerian, prompting the whole process to be repeated yet again. This continued for some time; ultimately leaving us with nothing but an empty bag and a frightened flock. The Vunerian sighed, crossing his arms. ¡°We still have the whole night, but I have a sinking suspicion we will soon be onto our target rather than later.¡± ¡°And you know this¡­ how?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve worked with the bowmen before, Emma.¡± Ilunor admitted through a despondent breath. ¡°More than I would¡¯ve liked, but the fact remains¡­ I know with relative precision the sorts of timeframes they operate on. So do not fret, we will sooner have our target secured than suffer from the dullness of a wild grouse chase. I can guarantee that much.¡± That guarantee however, turned out to be as empty as Vanavan¡¯s half-hearted promises. As flock- [ALERT: TARGET PARAMETERS MET. TARGET GROUP BEARING GRID 209, 539 723. TRAJECTORY CALCULATED. INTERCEPT? Y/N] -after flock- [ALERT: TARGET PARAMETERS MET. TARGET GROUP BEARING GRID 752, 375, 295. TRAJECTORY CALCULATED. INTERCEPT? Y/N] -after terrified- SQUAWK! -shocked- CHIRP CHIRP CHIRP! -panicked- COO COO! RRREEEE! -and dazed flocks¡­ [ALERT: TARGET PARAMETERS MET. TARGET GROUP BEARING GRID 498, 1095, 925. TRAJECTORY CALCULATED. INTERCEPT? Y/N] ¡­ turned out to be duds. And after an entire hour of exhaustive flying, of grabbing more birds than an ornithologist would in their entire doctorate program, we ended up with nothing but even more frustration and wasted power. It was around the same time that we encountered a relatively bizarre series of birds that flew individually, yet maintained a higher than average level of background mana radiation. Tracking down these birds was a bit more difficult, requiring more aerial acrobatics than I would¡¯ve been comfortable with in the mothership, yet upon grabbing them¡­ they seemed no less innocuous than any other bird-hybrid we¡¯d captured so far. The night had become quieter after that. As Ilunor had promptly grabbed a chair from the living room to plop himself atop of. ¡°I trust that you are still¡­ comfortable standing up, Earthrealmer?¡± Ilunor asked through a strangely empathetic breath. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I shot back frustratingly. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± He nodded. ¡°I genuinely hope you still have faith in my assertions. For I know for a fact we are getting closer to-¡± [ALERT: TARGET PARAMETERS MET. TARGET GROUP BEARING GRID 32, 172, 98. TRAJECTORY CALCULATED. INTERCEPT? Y/N] A flock of birds¡­ a massive flock of them in fact, emerged from that shadowy part of town my sensors had had a difficult time penetrating. Ilunor¡¯s eyes widened at the sheer breadth of them this time around, as it looked like one of those migrating flocks capable of outright blotting out the sun, rather than any old group of random birds. ¡°This is it.¡± Ilunor announced. ¡°I¡¯m sure of it.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t say¡­¡± I uttered out with tired contempt, revving up the mothership¡¯s engines as I repeated the motions of the chase that had quickly become muscle memory by this point. However, unlike the rest of the engagements thus far, this flock was proving to be more difficult to deal with. Simply put, there were way too many of them. What¡¯s more, mana radiation signals were everywhere within and around the flock. ¡°Ilunor, I can¡¯t cast a net that¡¯s going to get us all of them all at once. You¡¯re going to have to give me some pointers in order to¡ª¡± ¡°I know what this is.¡± He interrupted abruptly, his eyes widening in worrisome shock. ¡°At least three quarters of this flock are an illusion, a projection. Tell me, does your drone detect mana surges homogeneously throughout the flock?¡± ¡°My sensors aren¡¯t that sensitive¡­ but if I were to eyeball it, then yeah. That seems to be the case.¡± ¡°Then this is a trick out of my book.¡± He narrowed his eyes, as he traced his finger across the tablet. ¡°There! Emma Booker, target your net trailing ahead of the flock. From there, allow it to drag through the flock. Like a skytrawler casting a net ahead of a school of flightfish, except you will find that a good portion of these ¡®birds¡¯ are merely illusions that will dissipate upon contact with a physical barrier!¡± With the flock of birds moving at an even greater speed than any other flock thus far, and the signal risking cutting out if even a second was spent improperly, I took Ilunor¡¯s advice and ran with it. The maneuvers were simple enough; the massive flock reacted, but not quick enough for the fishing trawler trick to begin in earnest. I quickly parked the thing in front of the flock, and deployed the net. Sure enough, an entire section of the flock dematerialized, prompting me to take immediate action of my own volition. ¡°Emma, you should-¡± Training and gut instinct overrode Ilunor¡¯s advice now, as I made a hasty call to bank left, catching the flock as it attempted to veer off, but was stopped by the superior speed and maneuverability of the drone. Row after row of birds dematerialized in seconds the instant they made contact with the net, as I found that almost all of the flock were complete and utter phantoms despite every single ¡®bird¡¯ registering as solid pings on almost all of the drone¡¯s sensors; similar to Ilunor¡¯s null trick in the workshop. No sooner did I realize that however, did we net something. A single, solitary solid bird. The lone ¡®survivor¡¯ out of a flock of fakes. A hawk-like pigeon of all things. That sat there lazily in the net. Stretching its talons to and fro without a care in the world. ¡°Alright. We caught it.¡± I announced. But no sooner did I manage to say that did Ilunor¡¯s eyes grow wide. ¡°That¡¯s not right. That behavior- Emma, release it now!¡± ¡°What? What are you-¡± ¡°If you value your drone and this quest, release it and kill it, now!¡± I barely had time to react as several sensors began going wild. Most notably, several overheat and mana radiation sensors. The net soon went up in flames. And following that, a burst of fire slammed against the underside of the drone, disorienting the more sensitive sensor suites for a few seconds, but otherwise leaving the drone relatively unscathed. The optical sensors however, reported on everything as it transpired, as the innocuous bird seemed to erupt into a burst of flames; its feathers, its body, its wings¡ª indeed its whole form seemingly self-igniting. But instead of succumbing to the flames¡­ it simply flew off. Leaving a trail of fire behind it, prompting Ilunor to point at the screen incessantly, screaming at the top of his lungs. ¡°FIREBIRD! Emma Booker, we haven¡¯t the time! Shoot it! You must shoot it!¡± My whole world once more slowed to a crawl as I flicked down the tactical drawer on my controller, giving me access to the drone¡¯s weapons suite. A lock-on reticle landed squarely on the bird. Half a second later, the reticles lined up, glowing green and beeping incessantly. A second after that came a single, thunderous, earth-shattering- -BANG! It took seconds for that sound to reach us in person, or at least it would have if it wasn¡¯t for Ilunor¡¯s cone of silence. However even if it did, all that could be heard from this distance would be more akin to a weak and distant ka-crrack of stray thunder. The firebird¡¯s flight stopped almost immediately after. Its ducking and weaving reminiscent of a 20th century dogfighting ace halted abruptly and unceremoniously upon that round being discharged. From there, it fell seven thousand or so feet from the sky, leaving a trail of fire behind that was extinguished about halfway down as it began trailing smoke, and then finally, soot. The drone followed it quickly, managing to find nothing but a charred pile of grossly overcooked turkey, and what appeared to be a neatly packaged letter alongside it. Using its manipulator to grab it, Ilunor positively ID¡¯d it. ¡°That¡¯s it.¡± But not a second later, before the drone was even able to unfurl its arm, the small patch of grasslands we found ourselves in suddenly erupted into flames. As the firebird¡¯s carcass began to cremate itself with a small tornado of iridescent flames, ash and embers of this charring corpse suddenly reformed into its former state. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a firebird.¡± Ilunor announced through a hushed breath. ¡°That was a minor phoenix.¡± He practically whispered out, as the bird reached for the letter once more, glaring the drone right through its optics and threatening it with a mighty screech¡ª Only to have another thunderous - BOOM! - ring out not a second after, punching a hole straight through it. Following that, I wasted no time in grabbing the letter, before packaging it deep within the drone¡¯s cargo bay. No sooner was that accomplished did the phoenix begin reforming once again, which prompted Ilunor to answer a question that was rapidly forming in my head. ¡°It will follow us until its mission is done.¡± He spoke firmly. ¡°There is only one way to be rid of it.¡± ¡°Dunk its ashes in a river?¡± I shot back sarcastically. ¡°Yes.¡± Ilunor acknowledged with a nod. ¡°How did you know-¡± ¡°Forget about it, let¡¯s just do it.¡± I sighed frustratingly, as I began revving the drone back up to altitude and speed, prompting a chase with the offending bird. What happened next was a scene pulled straight from a video game. As I weaved, ducked, and maneuvered this way and that, avoiding fireballs, flames, and even the errant attempt at melee from the bird. It was a straight thirty seconds of nonstop aerial acrobatics before we found ourselves above a stream that flowed right from Lake Telliad. From there, I bided my time, ducking this way and that before the time was right for the perfect shot. ¡°Gotcha.¡± I spoke under a sweat-laden grin. BANG! Causing the bird to die for the third time, its body plunging straight into the rapids below, as it began disintegrating into dust within the water itself. Steam bubbled and billowed from beneath the water¡­ but after a few solid minutes of waiting, nothing reemerged. We eventually met each other¡¯s gaze moments after the bubbles had been carried down the stream and out of visual range. ¡°We were lucky it was a minor phoenix.¡± Ilunor sighed with relief. ¡°Otherwise, a typical, or Gods forbid¡­ a great phoenix would be impervious to this trick.¡± I slid back against the armor immediately after Ilunor¡¯s little confirmation, turning on the in-armor postural readjustment mode, as I sat there for a few solid seconds, but not before ordering the EVI to RTB the thing back to the balcony. The next few moments were spent in silence, as I simply sat there monitoring the mothership¡¯s flightpath back to the balcony. Ilunor seemed to mirror that sentiment too as he basically sank into his chair, sighs of relief escaping his maw every so often until eventually, the drone returned. The blue thing yanked the letter from its three-clawed appendage aggressively, checked it meticulously, scanning it with a surge of mana radiation, before lighting it up with a flame of his own which reduced it to ash. All the while, the EVI¡¯s mana notification warnings began disappearing one by one, probably marking the dissolution of both the invisibility and privacy barriers by this point. From there, Ilunor turned to face me, with a look of relief colored with a sense of genuine appreciation. ¡°Thank you once again, earthrealmer.¡± He spoke, this time, even more earnestly than before. ¡°I¡­ have never met someone with such a capacity for charity and compassion.¡± He lowered his head, not so much in a bow, as it was just a deep nod of gratitude. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Ilunor.¡± I replied, before quickly correcting myself. ¡°You owe me one though.¡± I stated bluntly, making sure to balance my modest earth sensibilities with Nexian ¡®social decorum¡¯. ¡°That much I understand, Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°Well in any case, I think we should-¡± KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! A series of knocks stopped me in my tracks, prompting both of our gazes to face the source of that interruption. The front door. Chapter 72: Please Dont Assault The Birds KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! Those three, distinct, hammer-like noises sent chills down my spine. I didn¡¯t know what it was. But over the course of the week, I¡¯ve come to increasingly dread these unexpected, unannounced, completely unscheduled interruptions to the only safe haven we¡¯ve been able to carve out of this hostile world. Maybe it was because there was never any way of telling what was waiting on the other side. Or maybe, it was just because half of the time, those knocks always acted as a prelude to another curveball that needed to be addressed; an unexpected problem that needed to be resolved. Whatever the case was, I began sprinting into action the second those knocks ended. ¡°Ilunor.¡± I began, prompting the Vunerian to nod affirmatively in acknowledgement. ¡°I need you to perform one of your tricks. Can you cast that invisibility field around the whole setup again?¡± A brief mana radiation warning marked his response, as for the first time, he actually committed to responding with his actions first, and words later. ¡°A trivial task.¡± He added cockily, that smug grin somehow managing to expertly hide the growing nervousness stirring beneath the surface. Sure enough, a brief glance towards the balcony yielded nothing. No drones, no signal amplifier, not even the cable that ran along the floors to power the whole setup. I turned to Ilunor with a begrudging look of appreciation. ¡°Good job Ilunor.¡± We quickly followed that up with a silent closure of the balcony doors and a drawing of the curtains, making our problems disappear, at least for now. ¡°Alright.¡± I hyped myself up, taking those tentative steps towards the door¡­ but not before turning to Ilunor one final time. ¡°Just act natural.¡± I ordered. ¡°Oh please, Emma Booker. I practically live for these acts of theater.¡± He responded. And¡­ true to his word, I couldn¡¯t detect any hint of fear or concern beneath that thick layer of pomp and circumstance. If this whole letter retrieval mission went up in smoke, and you lost your noble titles, I swear you¡¯d still have a future working in theater. I thought to myself, just as my hand reached for the door, gripping its ornate door handle. With a solid inhale, and a sharp satisfying ka-clink, I opened the door to reveal¡­ Not Vanavan. Or any other professor. Not even Larial. But a face that I otherwise immediately recognized. And one that looked none too pleased to see our group. It was that eccentric elf bridge-guard from a few nights before. ¡°OH!¡± The bridge-guard apprentice announced. ¡°It''s you lot.¡± He immediately turned his nose up, his eyes averting from my lenses. ¡°May I help you¡­¡± I trailed off, realizing the EVI hadn¡¯t flashed a nametag next to him. This mere momentary lapse in conversation seemed to be all the incentive the man needed to fill in the blanks, all the while maintaining that frustrated look of annoyance that continued to dominate his expression. ¡°Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second!¡± He announced proudly, balling up both of his hands before placing them by his hips in a heroic pose, causing his cloak to unfurl and swoosh out to his sides. A swift surge of mana radiation caused a gust of wind to flutter it about in the otherwise windless corridor. ¡°Right.¡± I nodded. ¡°Apologies Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Anisonzia the Second.¡± ¡°Apologies noted and accounted for, you cantankerous creature.¡± He responded with a small look of smug satisfaction on his face. That response¡­ strangely enough, didn¡¯t necessarily bother me. Because the man, for all his boisterous bluster, just felt like one big joke about half the time he spoke. Though that still didn¡¯t stop me from taking him as a legitimate threat, given his assigned position and responsibilities. ¡°So, how may I help you?¡± ¡°That depends¡­¡± The man paused, manifesting a previously unseen clipboard to the ping of another mana radiation warning, as he began flipping through its otherwise blank pages. ¡°... Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm now is it?¡± ¡°Yes, that¡¯s me.¡± ¡°Well, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm. I am here, first and foremost, to execute my duties as an apprentice and a keeper of this tower; to administer a wellness check.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m quite alright, thanks for asking-¡± ¡°No! Not for your sake, you insolent suit of animated armor! But for the sake of your fellows.¡± He gestured to his left and right, at the hallways and the stairs that led down from the top floor of the tower. ¡°I have received reports of an active and deliberate disruption to the general peace. Tell me Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm, have you or have you not-¡± The man paused, looking left and right haphazardly and frantically, before leaning in closely, practically an inch from my face. My heart skipped a beat, as I was about ready to have my entire operations unraveled right before my eyes. ¡°-observed anything over the course of your night through your windows? Any¡­ ghostly premonitions of an invisible avian predator? Any near-silent whooshing and buzzing followed closely by a disembodied arm chasing about poor defenseless birds?¡± The man¡¯s questions¡­ wasn¡¯t what I was expecting at all. Moreover, it instantly gave me the wiggle room I needed to take a page out of Ilunor¡¯s playbook. Bold-faced lying. ¡°No.¡± I answered bluntly, before just as quickly gesturing into the room. ¡°In fact, we were just having a nice evening together¡­¡± I began trailing off, just as my rear view cameras began revealing the self-described theater Ilunor had prepared. For in the middle of the living room, in plain sight to anyone by the door, was a Vunerian currently downing an entire trolley cart¡¯s worth of food. A sight-seer was splayed out in front of him, currently on pause with the image of some dragon caught flying mid-frame. As if on cue, he craned his head towards me with a cupcake in hand, his eyes narrowing on the apprentice knowingly as he slowly pushed the tasty morsel into his maw in a menacing fashion, before turning back towards the sight-seer leisurely; playing the part of a couch potato. ¡°... watching sight-seers. The only flying shenanigans we were experiencing was a sight from Lord Rularia¡¯s sight-seer!¡± I finally continued, prompting the apprentice¡¯s eyes to narrow even further, until finally, he relented. His features soon shifted to something less intense. If only for a moment. ¡°Hmm¡­ Well that¡¯s all well and good then! Not within my duties or noble prerogatives to barge into the personal affairs of fellow nobility of the Nexian variety; at least not without further probable cause. Besides, I haven¡¯t the time, given my other tasks!¡± The man spoke once more in that sing-song jovial persona, before suddenly and abruptly shifting to a menacing overture. ¡°Of course, that¡¯s assuming you have nothing else to add?¡± ¡°No, sir.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± He huffed out, his face coming forward to rest an inch from my helmet once more. An impressive feat accomplished through some levitation spell. A few more seconds passed, before his abrupt ¡®staredown¡¯ ended, his persona finally shifting back to a less antagonistic, yet equally intense loud ¡®normal¡¯. ¡°Well that¡¯s alright then! Consider my first duty accomplished.¡± ¡°First?¡± I questioned with a cock of my head. And was promptly answered by a sealed envelope smacking me with feeble - thwack! - against my helmet. ¡°Here¡¯s the second!¡± Following that abrupt gesture, the man pulled back into the hallway proper, hands placed firmly behind him. ¡°Consider my duties as this tower¡¯s caretaker, completed! With that, I bid you, and your merry band of miscreants, adieu!¡± And just like that, he started storming off, hrrmmph-ing as he did so. I receded back into the room after that with a relieved sigh. Only for a burning question to suddenly manifest itself after a momentary realization. ¡°Wait!¡± I shouted out, stomping out into the hall before he could reach the next room. ¡°Hmm? What is it now, you avid bridge-crossing, library-visiting, card-holding, rapscallion?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry to bother you Apprentice, especially after¡­¡± I paused, my eyes inadvertently landing and fixating on those bags under his eyes. ¡°... your late night shift.¡± ¡°Oh don¡¯t trivialize my duty-bound trials of adversity. Just get on with it, Cadet!¡± ¡°Well, you said you were this tower¡¯s caretaker.¡± ¡°Well yes. What of it then?¡± ¡°I thought Apprentice Larial was this tower¡¯s assigned apprentice.¡± ¡°Ah! The fair Larial! Her duties have now been temporarily bestowed unto me. The baton has been passed, the light has been bequeathed, the torch given to me so that I may now march up and down the stairs!¡± I stared blankly at the man. The scene before me not really registering as reality, but moreso, a flashback back to the bridge and terrace and our constant back and forth crossings to the library just a few days prior. This momentary lapse in communication was enough to once again rile the man up, as he stepped towards me, grabbing hold of what looked to be an officer¡¯s baton, before bonking me on the head once. THONK! ¡°Ow.¡± I announced without any emotive resonance. ¡°What was that for?¡± ¡°Do not WASTE MY TIME, Cadet! Now out with it!¡± ¡°Right¡­ so, I was wondering, what happened?¡± The apprentice took a moment to lean in close to me once again. Levitating a good foot in the air, as he once more came uncomfortably close to my face. ¡°She¡¯s been¡­ reassigned, Cadet Emma Booker. What her fate is, I do not know.¡± He spoke menacingly, or as menacingly as he could before shifting gears back into that sing-song persona. ¡°But what I do know, is that I must go!¡± He turned around, his back facing me. ¡°Ta! Ta! For I have more letters to deliver, and more rooms to question!¡± I watched him blankly as he knocked hard on Etholin¡¯s door. The small ferret opened it to the resounding yell of a deranged apprentice. ¡°GOOD EVENING!¡± ¡°G-good evening. W-who-¡± ¡°Urgent delivery my good sir! Straight from the fine auspices of the Dean himself!¡± The man conjured out a letter out of thin air, his straight, taut, almost unnaturally stiff arm swiveled to hand the letter off to the confused and petrified ferret who stood there now in a mix of fear and confusion. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°T-thank you, apprentice.¡± He warily accepted the letter that was barely a quarter of an inch away from his face. ¡°Very well then! Strange weather we¡¯re having, no? Inexplicable thunder with no signs of rain! Now, I must ask! Have you seen anything peculiar through your windows this fine evening?!¡± With a few more minutes of confused back and forths, the apprentice eventually left. This allowed the ferret to finally breathe a sigh of relief, only to hitch up his breath again upon making eye contact with me, causing him to slowly recede back into his room. With that whole¡­ episode over and done with, I reentered the dorm with a tired breath. I¡¯d barely noticed Ilunor scampering over by my side, his grabby claws reaching for the letter currently held firmly in my hands. With a little effort on his end, manifesting as a little - egh! - he eventually got his wish, gripping the letter from my loosened grip as he began tearing at its seams. Following that, his eyes began devouring the contents of the letter¡­ or what little there was written on it anyways. ¡°Yet another letter addressed to all first years, about a major announcement to be had in tomorrow morning¡¯s breakfast. Compulsory, if you were wondering.¡± Ilunor spoke, surprisingly succinctly. ¡°Right. Another mystery thing.¡± I spoke through a tired breath. ¡°I highly doubt this is of any significance, Emma.¡± Ilunor replied confidently. ¡°School announcements are a regular occurrence, this more than likely will be a discussion on some school event or a followup to the preparations for the choosing ceremony or whatnot.¡± He shrugged. ¡°In any case, I believe we can call this¡­ surprisingly eventful evening¡­ accomplished.¡± He began scampering back towards the couch, grabbing a sizable plate of food from a trolley that I immediately recognized. ¡°Wait, isn¡¯t that my lunch trolley?¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Ilunor spoke, glancing back at the trolley before turning back to me. ¡°I suppose it is.¡± I sighed, placing a palm against my face as I saw about three quarters of the foodstuffs for the MREDD experiments going up in flames inside of the Vunerian¡¯s gullet. ¡°Did you care for some?¡± He asked innocently, offering his plate of confections up as high as his stubby little arms could manage, reaching about halfway up to my waist. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. I guess I¡¯ll try again tomorrow.¡± I managed out with a sigh, prompting the Vunerian to cock his head curiously before he simply shrugged and left for his room, chomping down on cupcakes all the while. ¡°Make certain you rise in time for breakfast, Emma Booker.¡± He spoke, just as he shut the door to his room with a solid THWACK! Prompting a series of barks to erupt from within its confines. An argument no doubt ensued within the boys¡¯ room. Something that I thought I was immune to until I opened my door to reveal a fully robed avinor waiting for me on the couch. ¡°I assume you¡¯ve had an interesting night, Emma?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to immediately feel like I was thrust into that one and only night I arrived late after sneaking out past curfew from Aunty Ran¡¯s apartment. The first time I¡¯d attempted it, and also the last time I¡¯d ever even think of doing so. This prompted me to instinctively reach for the nape of my neck in a display of abashedness yet again, as I let out a series of appropriately nervous laughs. ¡°I guess you could say that.¡± Thacea sighed inwardly, gesturing towards the couch opposite of me, as a good long discussion soon followed.
Dragon Heart¡¯s Tower. En Route to the Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 0710. Emma I woke up groggy due to last night¡¯s lecturing. But it was a lecture I needed to hear, given the frequency and intensity of my escapades. Thacea¡¯s heart was in the right place with that, and honestly, compared to Aunty Ran¡¯s T-SEC approved lecturing, it was far less intense in almost every department. Yet despite having cleared up much of her points, there was an understated sense of concern that still persisted within the Avian¡¯s eyes throughout that whole conversation. A concern that, thankfully, seemed to finally subside as we made our way towards the grand dining hall in new spirits and refreshed staminas. Sleep had, at the very least, done its job of getting all of us ready for whatever was in store for this compulsory breakfast announcement. An announcement that seemed to at least have the courtesy to wait until everyone had what they actually came here for - food. ¡°Whatever the head chef¡¯s daily recommendation is, and double it.¡± Thalmin began with his usual insatiable drive for food. ¡°Something as crisp as the morning dew.¡± Thacea once more spoke in what I had to imagine was a personal game to become more cryptic with her food orders for no apparent reason. ¡°A platter.¡± Ilunor soon added. ¡°And make it snappy.¡± He even went so far as to shoo the man away. Eventually, it was my turn, and predictably I ordered everything to-go. ¡°The usual please. I want a full sampler spread sent to my dorm.¡± With a final deep bow, the same elf waiter who¡¯d been serving us since day one quickly scurried back towards the kitchen with an urgent sprint. It seemed as if the stage was quickly being set for whatever it was the faculty had planned. As only after the room was cleared of all waiters, did the Dean finally rise, prompting the whole room to go silent as Qiv took it upon himself to once more shush everyone into attention. ¡°A good and gracious morning to you all, first-years.¡± The man began, in that same warm and wise persona that had remained his go-to on every single one of his public appearances. ¡°Several matters have come to my attention that have necessitated the call of gathering. Matters which by themselves would necessitate nary a letter and a cryer, but when taken together, requires that time to be taken to address each item as a greater whole. Now without further ado, onto the matters at hand¡­¡± The man paused, gesturing towards Chiska who stood up from her seat, her hands clasping firmly behind her back. ¡°The Academy is nothing if not tolerant of the personal and private endeavors of its constituents. The spirit of adventure, the call to action, and the drive for passion, are all cornerstones of what makes the quintessential mage after all.¡± The orange and white speckled cat started off with that same tone of excitement and vigor she always seemed to carry with her. ¡°However-¡± She raised a single finger, that excitement quickly shifting from a positive to more of a cautious light. ¡°-recent matters have come to my attention that unnecessarily pushes this tolerance beyond the unspoken rules that govern its existence. Now, I am not pointing any fingers, nor am I accusing any of you first-years for what is ostensibly an enterprise exclusive to the upper yearsmen. But given many of you demonstrate skills and abilities beyond what may be considered typical for a first-year, I think something needs to be said, just in case. Now, many of you may already know about the students¡¯ guilds: what are ostensibly student-run organizations for the gathering of like-minded peers across year groups, class houses, and peer groups. It is one of these guilds that is the topic of today¡¯s announcement. The Skylord¡¯s Respite; a group dedicated to experiencing the joys of flight, through artifices, pure magic, and the tentatively sanctioned transient inhabitation rituals. It is this latter activity that is currently under scrutiny following the misadventures of the previous night. As several members have reported their familiars being violently assaulted and then released with no apparent rhyme or reason. This has caused a great deal of disruption within the organization, and a fair bit of drama which¡­ whilst I myself do quite enjoy-¡± The cat grinned mischievously. ¡°-is something that for the sake of my students I very much wish to be kept to a minimum. As a result, I must warn you first-years: the skies may be open, but their freedom has its limits. Exercise your due diligence. Maintain a healthy degree of mutual respect. And just¡­ please don¡¯t assault the birds. That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking, thank you.¡± Following a nod from the dean, Chiska soon took her seat. However, just before the man could start up again, the cat suddenly rose once more; garnering the dean¡¯s ire through a glare, but was otherwise allowed to say her piece. ¡°Just another quick thing. Any and all rumors of a quote ¡®illegal bird racing organization¡¯ within the Skylord¡¯s Respite is pure hearsay. And I, as the current head of the Students¡¯ Extracurricular Self-Directed Organizations, shall not stand for such slander.¡± The cat paused, before turning to the dean with a deep bow. ¡°My humblest apologies for the interruption, your excellency.¡± With a nod from the dean, Chiska once more took her seat, as the man continued where he left off. ¡°The next matter is one that will no doubt impact your current schedule. As Professor Vanavan has already informed you of yesterday, each day of the week is reserved for a single professor¡¯s class. First days are Professor Vanavan¡¯s, second days are Professor Mal¡¯tory¡¯s, third days are Professor Articord¡¯s, fourth days are Professor Belnor¡¯s, and the fifth and final weekday is Professor Chiska¡¯s. Barring unforeseen circumstances, this schedule is rigid and unmoving. However, given recent internal events, it has been decided that Professor Mal¡¯tory¡¯s classes shall be temporarily swapped with that of professor Articord¡¯s, if only for this first week. Let it be known however, that I will not tolerate any speculation as to the reason behind this decision, for that is an exclusive faculty matter; and one that I expect you to respect unquestioningly.¡± That latter statement was spoken with a severity that I¡¯d rarely seen him use in public. One that receded just as quickly, but was pointedly firm and unyielding. In spite of that though, many eyes now landed on the conspicuously empty seat belonging to the titular black-robed professor in question. As not even Larial, nor any other apprentice for that matter, was there to fill that vacant seat. Following this, the dean quickly gestured for the fox-like Articord to take her stand, the stuffy fox that reminded me of a mirror universe Buddy stared at the gathered collection of first-years with disappointed eyes. ¡°I do not have much to say.¡± She began tersely. ¡°Only that I expect all of you to be seated by 9am sharp, and not a second later. My doors will remain closed to any of those who do not arrive within that time. Whilst my class does not carry with it the glitz or glamor of magic casting nor the whimsical and lofty flightiness of magical theory, it is weighted equally towards your final passing grade. I find this change in pace and ambiance necessary, given that there needs to be someone here to weigh down the otherwise lofty aspirations of bloated manafields and spirits. With that being said, enjoy your breakfasts, but not too much. A heavy belly weighs poorly on an active mind, and I will not tolerate any day-sleepers in my class. That is all.¡± With a rushed bow from the fox, the Dean promptly turned to us again, as that warm smile clashed with the perpetual grumpiness of Articord the Anti-Buddy. ¡°On a final note, I wish to dispel and clarify concerns with regards to this week¡¯s rather¡­ unconventional seating arrangements. To facilitate the quick and prompt start to classes, all classes shall henceforth carry-over the seating arrangements agreed upon within Professor Vanavan¡¯s class. With that final matter addressed, I call this morning assembly to a close.¡± The Dean announced, prompting the awaiting waiters to return with cartfulls of food. As the food began arriving in droves, I couldn¡¯t help but to reflect on the quickly-overlooked main focus of this whole assembly. The delay of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s classes. The thought of his classes just somehow¡­ never crossed my mind up to this point. Sure, I knew they were coming up. And yes, I understood that us crossing paths again was inevitable. But somehow, I¡¯d just managed to block those thoughts out. Maybe it was because of the sheer glut of things I had to worry about. Maybe it was the report-writing, and the side-questing. Or maybe, a part of me just didn¡¯t want to think about it. Whatever the case was, the sudden reminder felt like a punch to the gut. I wasn¡¯t¡­ afraid of the man¡­ Or at least I didn¡¯t think I was. It was just¡­ uncomfortable to think about crossing paths with him again. The matter was¡­ I didn¡¯t know what to expect from the return of Mal¡¯tory. Dread threatened to consume me as I sat there wordlessly with the rest of the gang promptly consuming their breakfasts. I held my own tube of nutripaste in my hand¡­ and felt anxiety preventing me from taking even a small slurp of its contents. Thacea¡¯s gaze, and a worried look, clued me into her awareness of my sudden lack of appetite. Prompting me to respond reassuringly, as unconvincing as it was. There¡¯s still a whole other day. I thought to myself, stealing my spirits, and trying my best not to think of what awaited me tomorrow. I tried not to think of it, at least for now. I¡¯ll just deal with whatever may come when it comes¡­
The Grand Concourse of Learning. His Majesty¡¯s Hall. Local Time: 0855. Emma Entering the space, the similarities to Vanavan¡¯s lecture hall were pretty obvious from the get-go. From the arrangement of the desks, to the auditorium-style floor plan consisting of staggered ¡®rows¡¯ that increased in height from the row closest to the board, to the ones at the very back nearest to the entrance, the entire room was just about identical in layout. But that¡¯s where the similarities ended. Because despite the identical layout, the actual design of the room couldn¡¯t have been any more different; as instead of uniformity, there was a celebration of eclectic diversity. From the make and designs of the desks that ranged from wood to iron to brick and masonry, to the floors which shifted from sandstone to wood to copper and riveted steel, every row of every level of this lecture hall was designed with an emphasis on incorporating what was possibly every design philosophy known in existence. It seemed gimmicky at first glance. In fact, there was no other way to describe it but gimmicky. However, upon closer inspection, despite everything working against it, it somehow managed to pull it off; in the same way a museum could pull off displaying exhibits from different eras within the same room. Because just like any good museum or unconventional design, the trick was to truly go all-in. And this room really did go all-in, if the sheer number of windows leading to the outside were anything to go by. As instead of the straight floor to ceiling windows of Vanavan¡¯s classroom, the windows here consisted of hundreds of smaller designs, each of them pulling from some unique architecture, and each of them way too small and disproportionate to the wall they were embedded into. However, it was that disproportionate size ratio that gave them an unconventional look that somehow made the whole eclectic collection work. As each and every window looked more like picture frames, framing the landscape outside in the architectural style of what seemed to be a hundred different cultures. It was¡­ grand, in its own way. Grand by the sheer wealth in diversity, and not wealth through material displays of it. But the differences didn¡¯t end there. Because unlike with Vanavan¡¯s class, where chatter and gossip had time to take root in the lull period between entering class and the start of class proper, that lull never even had time to take root here. As the moment everyone took to their seats, the door behind the lectern swung open with a loud and satisfying smack! That alone was enough to get everyone¡¯s attention, prompting Qiv to initiate the greeting ritual, and for the whole class to follow suit. Articord stood as firm as a rock throughout all of this. As despite the weariness of her eyes and the tiredness that she exuded, everything else about her just screamed determination above all else. The fox refused to speak following that, merely glancing over towards a clock that ticked ever closer towards 9am behind her. The moment it did however, the doors in front and behind us suddenly bolted shut with a surge of mana radiation. Then, and only then, did she finally speak. ¡°Right then. Nexus History and Politics. We have a timeless history to cover within a finite amount of time, so let¡¯s not waste any of it. I trust that you will all behave as adults, and I trust that I can treat you all as equals in scholarship. Class preamble: this is an entirely lecture-driven class with an expectation of excellence to be reciprocated in internal assessments, examinations, as well as group projects and presentations. The details of which are in your syllabus. Rumors of field trips to the Crownlands or Adjacent Realms, fallen or otherwise, are to be treated as rumors until confirmed otherwise. I will be the judge of whether such frivolities will be necessary for your year group. With that, the preamble is now over, and we can begin.¡± The fox managed to do in a few minutes what Vanavan needed an entire hour to do. I couldn¡¯t help but to be impressed. ¡°Now, Nexian History and Politics. Where shall we start, hmm?¡± Qiv raised his hand, gaining Articord¡¯s attention. ¡°From the beginning, ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°From the beginning.¡± The fox chided with a small chuckle and a dismissive tone of voice. ¡°Very well then.¡± Chapter 73: The Big Bang With Extra Steps ¡°In the beginning, there was nothing.¡± The fox began with a certainty and absoluteness of unassailable academic authority. ¡°And I don¡¯t mean this in a metaphysical manner, nor in a literal sense, but from a historian¡¯s earnest and pragmatic perspective. For in the beginning, as any good historian can tell you, there was nothing - by virtue of there being nothing present from the time to infer from, nor anyone present at the time whose records we could likewise draw conclusions from. So I am afraid I will be unable to touch upon the matters of what some may strictly consider as: the beginning. I will, however, be able to tell you what sources tell us of said beginning. Of the tales and stories passed on by those closest to that time, by those who might have heard whispers and echoes of a time before time.¡± The end of that monologue had me yawning hard. And it wasn¡¯t even five minutes past o-ninehundred yet. I was quickly starting to dread what the rest of the class was shaping up to be. Because if this first impression was anything to go by, then there was little hope for much in the way of anything even remotely resembling excitement in this class. ¡°We begin our story-¡± Articord continued, her voice deepening, as its formerly grouchy undercurrents gave way to an epic score of narration. ¡°-with creation.¡± Several mana radiation pings suddenly hit me at once, the first marking the amplification of the fox¡¯s voice, the second coinciding with the sudden manifestation of an emerald-encrusted staff, and the third¡­ plunging the entire room into complete and utter darkness. Gasps and startled breaths quickly followed, echoing in the emptiness that was the vast and all too familiar darkness. "They say that the time before beginnings wasn¡¯t so much time at all, as it was a formless and vague state of nonexistence." True to the professor¡¯s words, there was indeed, nothing around us; save for her and the rest of the student body hanging listlessly in the void. ¡°This nonexistence manifested itself as a state of unbearable heat-¡± The professor¡¯s staff shifted from its natural shade of green to a brilliant and vibrant shade of ruby-red. ¡°-of chaotic and violent manastreams-¡± The ruby-red gem started glowing abruptly, eliciting both sharp breaths of shock and wide-eyed looks of confusion, as the heads of a hundred different students cocked every which way. Their eyes focused on something in that dark, jumping and darting from invisible object to invisible object, seeing something that my human eyes and human-built sensors just couldn¡¯t see - manastreams. ¡°-set within a space so small you could rest it comfortably upon the tip of a pencil.¡± Sure enough, the diffused glow of Articord¡¯s staff shrunk whilst its intensity only grew. It shrunk to the point where the light was the size of a dot, yet it continued to glow so bright that it forced those among the crowd without auto-tinting lenses to shield their eyes with a mix of magic and a good old-fashioned squint. ¡°They say that in this smallest of smallest spaces, was birthed a force so powerful that no apocalyptic cataclysm on record could ever, or will ever contend to.¡± She raised her staff once more, the pin-prick dot of intense light continuing to grow brighter and brighter until finally¡­ It could glow no more. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS And an explosion rocked the once void-filled space. This very-real force knocked many students from their invisible seats, buffeting them back with wave after wave of successive shocks, eventually forcing the smaller amongst the crowd to be flung back to the back of the lecture hall itself; eliciting screams and wails that were mostly drowned out by the heart-stopping thumps of this visceral explosion. My gut twisted more than it should¡¯ve during the whole episode. The shockwaves, the blast, the suddenness of it all took me out of the classroom, placing my mind back in a time and place that I tried desperately not to think about. Anxiety started to well up in the form of this sickly nausea, this sense of disconnect¡­ but ended just as abruptly as it started - leaving me dazed, confused, but otherwise unharmed. Articord, all the while, maintained this genuinely merry smile. ¡°Such a force would have been the final moments heralding the end of time and yet¡­ it instead marked the end of that nothingness that came before. For following this point, came the ceaseless expansion of reality as we know it. A reality consisting of the realm of the gods, and the realm of mortality, with the latter coalescing into what we recognize today as the Nexus.¡± Upon de-tinting my lenses, I was met not with the featureless void like before, but instead a large expanse of green beneath our feet, and an equally expansive bright blue sky above our heads. It was as if the whole class was now floating above one of those pre-alpha test-maps for some immersive VR-sim, but one that was quickly being populated by all sorts of things, with life below us growing, changing, shifting, with trees and forests rising and falling by the second. It was around the same time that a hand was finally raised. Auris¡¯ hand. ¡°Yes, Lord Ping?¡± ¡°Professor, what you are saying is sacrilege.¡± Here we go again. I thought to myself with an internalized sigh, the bull¡¯s predictable stubbornness being the thing that finally grounded me after that whole experience. ¡°How so, Lord Ping?¡± The Professor urged, crossing her arms. ¡°You mention nothing of the gods. You mention the myth of creation without any utterances of the Gods which played a role in its formation.¡± He continued, prompting the Professor to respond in a way I wasn¡¯t expecting. A small, yet sly, smile. There was something she found amusing in Ping¡¯s comment. ¡°Indeed. And I do in fact applaud you for taking proactive note, Lord Ping. However, I would request that you reserve your judgment for the very end of the story; at least with your grievances as it pertains to the Gods.¡± This sentiment was more or less confirmed by her response, as it was clear there was something she wasn¡¯t addressing just yet. Something that made it so that she didn¡¯t have to dock points from Ping, which meant that there was something else there to her story that hadn¡¯t come up yet. ¡°I will obey, Professor.¡± The bull dipped his head low in acknowledgement, before sitting back down. With that out of the way, Articord continued, bringing back the blackboard behind her as several floating pieces of chalk were now busy not just writing down her talking points, but illustrating it; or at least creating an animated illustration of something. That something eventually started resembling a timeline of sorts, a fact that was confirmed by the label at the bottom denoting it as the: ¡°Timeline of the Beginning.¡± The further the diagram was developed however, the less it started resembling a traditional timeline. Instead, it started resembling something eerily familiar, yet not quite the same given its magical flourishes and absurd contents. Starting on the left farside of the board with a single chalky dot, the ¡®timeline¡¯ expanded rightwards, flaring out wider and wider like a sort of cone or funnel. This cone-like shape was quickly segmented into different ¡®sections¡¯, and within each section were what looked to be different visual representations of anything from intangible concepts to physical objects. With the ones closest to the small chalky dot consisting of wave-like squiggles, which I interpreted to be manastreams, and the ones furthest from the dot consisting of anything and everything from sketches of rocks to dirt and water. Eventually however, this weird ¡®timeline¡¯ ended at the very right of the board with what looked to be two bubbles - one containing a flat top-down view of a map, and the other consisting of a realm of clouds and starless darkness. It took a while, but the moment that last piece of chalk had retreated from the board, was the moment I was suddenly struck with an utterly crazy realization. One that I knew for a fact wasn¡¯t possible. ¡°EVI¡­¡± I began, turning to the only other¡­ ¡®person¡¯ here I knew could dispel my insane conspiracy theories. ¡°Is it just me, or does that ¡®timeline¡¯ resemble one of those simplified big bang timelines?¡± I hoped the EVI wouldn¡¯t immediately decide that I¡¯d finally passed the psychological threshold of being fit for active duty. ¡°Error: Unable to provide a sufficient answer within current operating parameters. Cause: Insufficient data for inference and extrapolation within the given question parameters, Cadet Booker.¡± Was all the EVI had to say on the matter however. Prompting me to breathe a sigh of frustration at being the only person who was seeing this. ¡°Suggestion: manually lower the Abstraction-to-Veracity Tolerance Value (AtVTV) to allow for a lower-fidelity, but higher than tolerable abstraction margin.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± I nodded, my eyes flying across my HUD to do just that. ¡°But only temporarily.¡± I reiterated, setting a limited time window for just this one instance. ¡°Acknowledged. Parsing¡­ Superficial likeness detected between Artifact Snapshot C02-001a [Timeline of the Beginning.] and that of the common graphical depiction of the ¡®Timeline of the Expansion of the Universe¡¯.¡± ¡°I knew it.¡± I whispered internally. ¡°Disclaimer: the answer is abstracted beyond tolerable working limits (TWL) as dictated by IAS and LREF joint data analysis protocols (J-DAP).¡± ¡°Acknowledged, EVI. Still, the resemblance is uncanny.¡± I muttered out, just as Articord began shifting the whole scene once more, moving the whole class into what was essentially a bigger version of the sight-seers Thacea, Thalmin, or Ilunor had shown me thus far. We were now in the middle of an untouched woodlands, with birds chirping, wolves howling, and a great many more insects performing a whole host of natural orchestral symphonies; all of which would¡¯ve made Kolby Digital¡¯s 10DX sound systems blush. ¡°Now with that prologue out of the way, we can begin our story in earnest. Our story starts, as with many stories, with the birth of sapience, and the emergence of cultures. We start with a collection of people.¡± The immersive VR experience that was the classroom illustrated this point rather vaguely, revealing a bunch of elves that had popped into existence, looking more like your typical fantasy wood-elves more than anything. ¡°The formation of the earliest cultures were forged through mutual strife, and a collective desire just out of mere survival.¡± Torrential rains battered this would-be group of hunter-gatherers, buffeting them with wave after wave of unrelenting winds and deafening them with heart-stopping thunder. ¡°These peoples, despite being as sapient as you and I, did not start off as particularly mighty. Nor did they start off with the more obvious gifts endowed to the other creatures of the world.¡± The professor paused, as a carousel of animals resembling a character selection screen appeared before us. Highlighted by a beam of sunlight penetrating the thick forest canopy. ¡°Neither claws for slashing-¡± A Bear. ¡°Nor teeth for gnashing-¡± A sabertooth tiger. ¡°Nor wings for flying-¡± A bird of prey. ¡°Nor legs for leaping.¡± A¡­ giant frog. ¡°Or even eyes for stalking-¡± A bird-wildcat hybrid. ¡°These peoples that were destined for greatness, did not start out as particularly great. They had none of the obvious gifts which would otherwise save them from nature¡¯s wrath. Save for one exception, which they harnessed to their fullest potential.¡± The scene soon shifted, to the group of wood elves forming primitive stone tools, building early shelters, and hunting wild animals¡­ all with the help of magic. ¡°The gift of the sapient mind, and the will of the enlightened spirit. For the gift of sapiency is the gift of creation with intent. Because unlike any of the beasts of the forests, whether magical or typical, they did not merely fight for survival. No. They were fighting for a higher calling, a greater purpose, a desire that prevails to this day.¡± The group of elves finally took a step back from their projects, and out of the thick impenetrable world that was the forest, they¡¯d carved out what looked to be the start to an actual proper home. Although a modest one, consisting of what Ilunor would happily describe as mud huts. ¡°A desire for civilization-¡± The professor announced with a degree of finality, before shifting to what looked to be a funeral procession, with the group of elves pouring mana into the body of a deceased older elf; in what Thacea had formerly described as harmonization. ¡°-for the preservation of legacy.¡± The next few minutes were spent in silence as time sped up. In a scene reminiscent of my own NYC timelapse, this timelapse of the early Nexus proceeded with the same breakneck pace, and the same intensity of industriousness¡­ barring the industry, of course. The small village quickly evolved into a proper town, its buildings growing in size and complexity. From simple huts to log cabins, to stone and brick buildings, to fully masoned houses, things progressed rapidly, through the aid of what could only be described as a mix of basic tools and advanced magical spells to make up for the lack of certain technologically inclined apparatuses. Cobblestone roads gave way to roads that looked bizarrely smooth. Having been flattened and reformed using a combination of heat and other unknown magical means. Streetlights appeared, lit by a combination of oil lanterns and magical orbs. Carts, wagons, and even what looked to be a horseless trolley appeared floating above the smooth cobblestone road, all pieces of anachronistic technologies and implements seemingly out of place, but working in cohesion through unseen magical means. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Eventually however, our perspective shifted once more, zooming out higher and higher still as we saw that the heart of what was formerly that small village was now merely just a fraction of a fraction of the bustling town that had since taken its place. The woodlands around it were gradually, meticulously, and with great precision, being torn down mile by circular mile. Treelines were felled left and right. First with the aid of simple tools, with magic-use filling the gaps where those tools had underperformed. Then with the advent of magically enchanted tools, consisting of a fleet of floating magical saws wielded by a handful of mages, replacing non-magical implements entirely. Eventually, this too was replaced by the arrival of a particularly well-dressed mage, floating above the forest itself, who simply uprooted an entire spherical mile¡¯s worth of trees with the flick of a single wrist; the trees, the plants, and the animals hidden within all floating towards a portal that simply swallowed them up to some unknown destination. There was a precision and an ordered chaos to everything, with a lack of any true standardization embodied by the rapid development of clashing architectural styles, haphazard zoning, as well as what looked to be a fierce series of land grabs marked by the occasional battle, duel, and skirmish that whilst violent only lasted for barely a second given the pace of this timelapse¡¯s speeds. ¡°This is just one of many such groups that emerged from the dirt. Yet no matter where you go within the nexus-¡± The professor paused once more, her staff flashing every few seconds, causing the sights around us to radically shift from location to location, teleporting us from city to city to city to city just to illustrate the sheer number of similar such kingdoms dotting the Nexus at this point in time. ¡°-you will find similar stories highlighting the triumph of sapiency.¡± The professor promptly brought us back to the original village-turned city, traveling towards the outskirts of town that now bordered a mountain range harboring a tiny enclave of untouched woodlands. There, she focused on the carousel of animals from before. Their forms have since become emaciated, probably due to a destruction of the local ecology. ¡°A thousand generations, and we see that the only true way forward, the only true march towards success, lies not with the mindless animal, but the enlightened sapient mind. As is written in the oldest of oldest texts: On The Nature of Sapiency and the Disillusionment of the Animal; The Necessity of the Obliteration of the Animal from the Sapient Being.¡± ¡°And why exactly is that?¡± The professor asked, although I couldn¡¯t tell if it was rhetorical or not. The raising of a few hands clued me in to the answer. As the professor once more picked out a random member from the crowd. This time, it was the bat-like Airit from Qiv¡¯s group. ¡°Because the sapient mind is capable of living not just for the sake of survival, but for higher values and aspirations.¡± Airit answered with a bright smile. ¡°Five points.¡± The professor responded. ¡°But only if you can answer exactly what higher values and aspirations you are referring to. Which one above all else? Chivalry? Loyalty? Vengeance? Selflessness?¡± ¡°Remembrance. Legacy. A fealty to what came before and the understanding that it is the responsibilities of the present to forward the stories of the past.¡± Airit spoke out in that high-pitched bat-like manner, yet managed to hold her own all the same despite that. Articord paused as she pondered that answer, her one hand rubbing the gem of her scepter, whilst the other went to soothe a crease forming on her temples. ¡°Five points. But I will not award points for the bare minimum of answers following this first class.¡± She warned, before moving on just as quickly, zooming back from the small patch of forest as we now looked down upon the Nexus from high above. Cities dotted the landscape. Each one rivaling even the capitals of Aetheronrealm, not to mention Havenbrockrealm. Along with that, monuments and magical megastructures were placed either around, within, or all along the paths that connected each and every city. ¡°This is the story of our legacy. This is the story of a people who understood the values of permanence, of their responsibility to never drop the torch.¡± The professor announced not with pride, but solemnity. A pause punctuated that brief aside, as we watched as the cities grew closer and closer together, and in what felt like one of those informational animations of the Acela corridor forming into a cohesive megacity; except they didn¡¯t. They simply stopped expanding horizontally, and simply decided to continue going vertical. Spindly towers erupted in the span of what was probably weeks, and eclectic designs sprung up that ranged from appropriately-tall cathedral-towers, to what was ostensibly just a circular castle tower rising far beyond what should¡¯ve been physically possible. Some of these projects seemed to have been just for show. Clearly just extensions of palaces, towers, or other such wasteful noble endeavors. Whilst others seemed to serve some strange magical purpose, at least, I assumed so judging by their sameness and ominously glowing tops. All of this development eventually came to a head in one spectacular night. As large plumes of light shot up from several of the major city centers, painting the sky in a dizzying array of colors similar to a fireworks display that spanned the breadth of not just a city, but an entire region. More time passed following this triumphant moment. But as it did, that pace of development, that rate of expansion, was suddenly interrupted. First by what looked to be specks of light erupting from the farthest reaches of the the most far flung of cities. Then, by plumes of smoke emerging from all around the region. The frequency, intensity, and ferocity of which seemed to wax and wane with each passing second, captivating the eyes of the entire classroom as they darted back and forth between different sections of the map. So much so that a few of them completely missed the start of something completely new. The birth of a large, sickly-black fireball that had erupted suddenly and out of nowhere from a quaint countryside town. A ball of luminescent dark that grew larger and larger, encompassing more of the landmass beneath its circumference until finally¡­ it¡¯d gone beyond just the confines of that town, consuming farms, roads, towers, and eventually, half of an entire city. Following that, was what I could only describe as a torrent of destruction. As fire. Lava. Storms of lightning. And fireballs of atomic proportions began peppering the once idyllic landscape. This¡­ war? Continued without a single word uttered from Articord. As she simply allowed the class to watch as the timelapse went on for a full five minutes. Battle lines were drawn where storefronts had once stood. Trenches built up by magically-augmented conventional (for the eclectic pseudo medieval-renaissance era) armies, only to be covered by magically induced earthquakes and avalanches. Mountains¡­ toppled over atop of some cities. Whilst others were simply swallowed into the bowels of the earth itself. Eventually, after a full five minutes of carnage, we returned to that first city. To the middle of what was formerly the first village. To what remained of the fountain that stood silent atop a pile of rubble. To a timelapse that continued on relentlessly, showing unrepentantly, the bodies of fallen soldiers and noblemen alike, withering away into nothing but skeletons; with the marble and granite of their legacies crumbling around them. Until finally, that forest we¡¯d started off with eventually returned. With little in the way to remind the unobservant viewer that anything man-made had once stood here at all. ¡°And yet¡­ they did.¡± Articord managed out with a pained, hurt-filled breath. ¡°They dropped the torch.¡± The professor took a moment to compose herself, before finally re-establishing eye contact with the class. A single reluctant hand was raised following that whole debacle. One that belonged to [A98 Navine Ladona]. ¡°Professor¡­ if I may¡­ I¡­ I¡¯d initially assumed what we were witnessing through this sight was the birth and evolution of the Nexus?¡± ¡°You would be correct in that assumption, Lady Ladona.¡± ¡°Then¡­ why is the Nexus in ruins? What-¡± ¡°The story isn¡¯t finished yet, Lady Ladona. So if you would please allow me to continue, we are near the end of my first tale.¡± ¡°We learned of these first Kingdoms, by unearthing what remained of their failed and pitiful state.¡± The fox continued on, unabated. ¡°Just as we learned of the second-¡± She paused, gesturing towards the world around us. Time once more hastened into speeds previously unseen¡­ as yet another village was constructed around us, evolving into a town, growing into a city, and then rising up high into the heavens¡­ where it abruptly, and almost unceremoniously, crumbled back into the dirt. ¡°-the third-¡± The cycle once more repeated, this time just across the river. Village to town to city to fantastical heights¡­ to ruin. ¡°-the fourth-¡± And it repeated. ¡°-the fifth-¡± Again. ¡°-the sixth-¡± And again. ¡°-the seventh-¡± And again. ¡°-the eighth-¡± And again. ¡°-the ninth-¡± And again. ¡°-until finally¡­ the tenth.¡± The professor breathed out a sigh of strained frustration, her eyes not even hiding the sheer ire welling within. ¡°Now tell me, class. What did we lose from these failures? What exactly was lost to time from these fallen civilizations?¡± A hand was raised. Qiv¡¯s hand. ¡°Knowledge, professor. The knowledge of the ancients, the artifacts of unknown potential, the great and learned means of magical acumen that has taken us so long to regain.¡± He spoke with confidence. A confidence that was definitely not reciprocated by the likes of Articord as she stared down the reptile with a look of indifference. ¡°Knowledge now, is it? Artifacts, magical acumen? The utilitarian things in life, yes?¡± ¡°That is precisely what I mean professor.¡± The nobleman nodded deeply, as if expecting himself to be rewarded with a flurry of points, as he had been in Vanavan¡¯s class. ¡°Then you are a fool, Lord Qiv Ratom.¡± Articord began with a barely restrained contempt. ¡°I beg your pardon, Professor?¡± ¡°Knowledge, pure knowledge of the magical arts¡­ is easily replaceable when status eternia is applied. In time, given enough time, knowledge will reaccumulate, will be rediscovered, will be found and reimplemented within society. These are the concerns of the short-sighted, the power-hungry, those same peoples who led the way to the destruction of those early kingdoms. They are the concerns of the typical adventurer looking for the next lost artifact of old, the concerns of those who see the past only for its utility and not its philosophical quandaries. But with that being said, you technically are correct Lord Qiv, and as a result, I shall deduct no points.¡± The professor cautioned, before turning her eyes back towards the class. Several hands were raised up high. Two of them from the gang. Thacea, and Ilunor. The pair stared at each other for a split second, as they mimed the same word from the corners of their mouths in a way that prompted them to both nod. ¡°Yes, Lord Rularia.¡± ¡°Stories, professor.¡± The deluxe kobold spoke with a hint of knowing satisfaction. A sentiment that was proven to hold some weight if the professor¡¯s raise of both brows was any indicator. ¡°Elaborate, Lord Rularia.¡± ¡°What is lost to the sands of time, by these¡­ pathetic excuses for Nexian civilizations, are stories. From the stories of fiction crafted by the minds of brilliant poets and playwrights, to the compositions of the great composers and orchestras, to the beauty and majesty of the canvas and even the recordings of whatever constituted for sight-seers back then¡­ these are the true tragedies lost with time. These are the legacies forever lost - the beauty torn asunder by the unfeeling, unforgiving, cruel and animalistic tendencies of a world left without the enlightened rule of the sapient hand.¡± Articord¡¯s face beamed great at the start of that little monologue. However, the further Ilunor got, the more she seemed to be teetering on the edge of praise, only to recede the more he went on. Still, her face was at least satisfied, at least when compared to that of Qiv¡¯s answer. ¡°Five points.¡± Was all she said at first. ¡°Lord Rularia, you were very nearly there. However, your appreciation for the spirit of the answer, and your conclusion hinting the necessity of the sapient hand in the taming of the savage natural world, elevates your answer beyond a mere technically correct one.¡± Ilunor bowed deeply, before taking a seat as the professor eyed the tens of other arms that had been raised since then. She ignored it at this point, unlike Vanavan who would¡¯ve entertained each and every answer. Instead, she pressed on, finally getting to the point. ¡°What is truly lost is the unbroken chain. Lord Ratom is correct, in that knowledge is in fact lost. Lord Rularia is even more correct in pointing out that which cannot be replicated: the arts and the sanctified expressions of the sapient mind. However, what both have not touched upon is the loss of the unwritten story. Legacies of fathers passed down to sons, of mothers passed down to daughters, of Kings to Princes and Dukes to Barons. It is not just knowledge or the arts that is forgotten, but eons of history, of the stories of everyone from the greatest of Kings to the humblest of peasants that is forgotten. This¡­ loss, this great and tragic loss is something far greater than the loss of any grand spell or mystical artifact. For what truly is civilization if not the greatest creation of the sapient mind in its ceaseless and endless quest to derive meaning from meaninglessness? It is the stories we create, the lives we lead, the experiences of our day to day that make up meaning in this cruel and unforgiving universe. It is in the legacies we leave behind, and the lives we touch along the way, that our lives derive meaning. The loss of a civilization is the loss of that living history, and is the admission of the defeat of the sapient mind to that of the forces that should be beneath it.¡± Qiv raised his hand following that monologue. However instead of allowing him to speak, Articord simply glossed over it. ¡°My point, as it stands, is thus: not all of history is written and recorded. Utilitarian knowledge is but a sliver of a civilization¡¯s collective identity, the recorded works of a civilization¡¯s culture are a larger but still modest fraction. What we truly have lost, is the collective legacy of all, the living history of civilization - the avatar of sapiency itself.¡± Auris finally raised his hand once more, his eyes practically ready to spout out whatever dumb idea of the hour he had bubbling within. ¡°Yes Lord Ping?¡± ¡°And what of the gods, professor? I assume your story is at an end, and yet not once have you mentioned the matter of the gods.¡± He urged, though this time his tone was different. As if he was speaking like someone who knew the answer to the very question he was asking. ¡°Where were they throughout this tale of tales?¡± ¡°Everywhere, Lord Ping. They were always everywhere.¡± The professor paused, a small knowing, expectant, yet decidedly reserved expression forming on her face. ¡°And what were their contributions? What have they done to prevent these most heinous tragedies from befalling the mortal realm?¡± A small pause punctuated that question, and the professor¡¯s anticipated answer. A pin drop could be heard now, amidst the static backdrop of the magical forest around us. ¡°Nothing, Lord Ping.¡± Articord spoke with a resting rage that threatened to spill over at any moment. ¡°And is that why you refuse to make mention of them just yet?¡± ¡°No, Lord Ping. I refuse to mention these insipid creatures for the most part because there is only one true being worth his title in the divine right to rule. Only one being I see as the one true god above gods - His Eternal Majesty.¡± Chapter 74: Do You Believe in Fate? ¡°Only one being I see as the one true god above gods; His Eternal Majesty.¡± The entire room suddenly echoed with the sounds of a hundred chairs being forcibly pushed across a variety of surfaces, Auris Ping now leading the charge as a bright ear-to-ear grin manifested itself across his snout. ¡°Forever may he reign!¡± ¡°Forever may he reign!¡± The whole room repeated, before promptly sitting back down in a flurry of cacophonous noises. A knowing look was exchanged between the likes of Ping and Articord after that sudden call for reverence, a glance that seemed to cement an underlying narrative that had formed since his first non-sequitur question about the gods. ¡°Is there a reason why you insist on bringing up the topic of these idols of a dead world, Lord Ping?¡± Articord prompted as soon as the last hair-raising, neck-tingling echoes of the scraping of chairs finally died down. ¡°Yes, professor.¡± Auris replied without hesitation. ¡°I do so, out of love and faith for the sanctity of His Eternal Majesty.¡± The man spoke with a fiery zeal and vitriol, without even the faintest hint of faltering from complete and utter devotion. ¡°By calling upon for further elaboration on the role of the old gods?¡± The professor shot back, although this time, there was something of a sing-song cadence to her voice. As if she was fully embracing the theater ¡ª as Ilunor would call it ¡ª between herself and the bull. ¡°History is nothing if not the acknowledgement of the failures of the past, to better improve ourselves in the pursuit of the present, in securing a certain and unwavering future. The story of His Eternal Majesty cannot be told in full without first establishing the story of the Old Gods which preceded him in the Eras of Folly. For only the full truth, the whole truth, can cast away the shadows of ignorance and free the mind from the shackles of self-delusion.¡± The bull¡¯s eyes never once wavered, never once flinched, his whole body stood tall and unmoving as I could audibly hear how this speech was given with even more candidness than before; if that was even possible. ¡°All shadows of doubt will wither and falter at the foot of the light of the gospel of the Enlightened Regime.¡± The professor took a moment to regard Auris¡¯ words with an appreciative smile. A rare instance of being not only satisfied by an answer like she was with Ilunor¡¯s, but instead being genuinely impressed. ¡°The truth can be difficult for many to comprehend, Lord Ping. I say this, as someone who has made the pilgrimage of shadows.¡± The professor admitted through that same polite smile. ¡°With that being said, in any other instance, I would¡¯ve gladly started off with said truths. However, today, as with many things with your year group; the situation is radically different by virtue of those that comprise your ranks.¡± It was clear, even without a stray glance, that she was talking about me. ¡°The best education is often personalized education, accounting for the needs of every type of student. I have tailored today¡¯s opening lesson to reflect this fact.¡± Silence descended upon the room following the professor¡¯s statement. All gazes rested on the fox as her eyes seemed to be scouring for her next prey, her next subject of interest. Me. ¡°Newrealmer.¡± Articord announced suddenly, her voice dripping not with any spite or self-righteousness, but an earnest tone of curiosity. ¡°Cadet Booker, is it?¡± ¡°Yes, professor.¡± I replied with a nod. ¡°As a newrealmer, I understand you may have quite a few questions, such is the nature of innocence from reason, and the regrettable state of affairs that is the squalid ignorance of the natural state. However, I can infer based on the mere fact that you sit here ¡ª having crossed the threshold ¡ª that you are indeed capable of comprehending and adopting the principles of enlightened civility. You are¡­ a pioneer of sorts, Cadet Booker. In the same way that the first followers of His Eternal Majesty¡¯s enlightened circle took that leap of faith in setting forth into a previously uncharted future, so too are you doing the same by your mere presence. However-¡± The professor paused, taking a few steps forward up the still-invisible central walkway towards my equally-invisible desk. ¡°-this ignorance goes both ways. For as much as you are ignorant to the ways of the Nexus, so too am I ignorant of the ways of your realm. So please, if you will allow me to indulge in my curiosities, I would like to ask you a few questions. Just to aid in the crossing of this river of ignorance on a bridge of mutual understanding.¡± I was¡­ taken aback by the shift in the professor¡¯s angle. Because whilst she started off with that typical Mal¡¯tory-grade blanket statement of superiority, she didn¡¯t follow through with it. More than that, she more or less left most pretenses of that posturing behind, the further she went in her monologue. And in a move that no other professor had done so far, she even went so far as to publicly express her humility, and a desire to bridge that cultural gap for the alleged sake of mutual understanding; something that SIOP authors would¡¯ve fawned over if they were here. ¡°Of course, professor.¡± I replied tactfully, politely, at the very least reciprocating the courtesy she was extending to me. ¡°Fire away.¡± There was probably a Nexian catch somewhere. However¡­ that remained to be seen, and I wasn¡¯t about to actively reject a gesture of good will if I could help it. ¡°Do you believe in fate, Cadet Booker?¡± The professor asked candidly, throwing a curveball of a question without so much as flinching; her voice never once revealing anything other than an earnest and well-intentioned cadence. ¡°That¡¯s a question that¡¯s been debated amongst my kind for countless generations, since the inception of the spoken word itself, professor.¡± I replied diplomatically, SIOP training kicking in almost out of instinct as I felt like I was hitting the ground running. ¡°Given the cosmopolitan and diverse nature of my people, and the policy of my government to accommodate and facilitate, rather than to impose and to dictate, I cannot say for certain whether or not I do.¡± ¡°Are you answering this as a representative of your people, or as you yourself, Cadet Booker?¡± The professor drilled further, not yet diving into a heated tone of voice, but more so straddling the line between impatience and a cordial sort of academic curiosity. ¡°That is my answer as a representative of my people, professor.¡± I answered curtly. ¡°Then allow me to rephrase my question, Cadet Booker. Do you, yourself, not your government, not your elders or kings or dukes or barons, not even your military superiors up in your chain of command¡­ do you believe in fate?¡± I took a moment to regard that question, as conflicts of interests arose between a desire to remain diplomatic, a desire to meet the professor¡¯s question with honesty and upfrontness, as well as a desire to heed Thacea¡¯s cautioning ¡ª to remain steadfast in ensuring a certain degree of ¡®social face¡¯ was preserved if at all possible. These desires however ended up stirring a bigger question that dwelled within me. A question that I hadn¡¯t really put much thought into before, save for that one year of my life I¡¯d rather forget. ¡°Not necessarily, professor.¡± I answered truthfully. ¡°Not necessarily?¡± The professor parroted back. ¡°Elaborate, Cadet Booker.¡± I let out a sigh. ¡°On one hand, my faith sort of touches on the issues surrounding fate. However, on the other hand, it also emphasizes that a lot of things are ultimately up to you to decide as a person. Which means that at the end of the day, it¡¯ll be the universe that¡¯s reacting to you, rather than the universe dictating anything in particular; with cosmic and karmic forces and such reacting to your actions depending on what you do. Ultimately though, I personally believe that every individual¡¯s fate is theirs to decide. Freedom is a fundamental aspect of the sapient condition after all, free will being part of that.¡± I half-expected the professor to do a complete one-eighty, to pull an Auris Ping in the middle of the class to simply call me out on my beliefs. But she didn¡¯t. Instead, she seemed to regard every word with intense fascination, cupping her entire lower face within her palm. ¡°Fascinating.¡± Was her first response following those few seconds of silence, her eyes only once breaking contact as if to actively ponder my words in her own mind for a bit. ¡°We share quite a lot in common then, Cadet Booker.¡± She spoke soon after, with a sense of genuine intrigue that bordered on preachy but never quite crossed that line. ¡°Because ultimately, there is one core fundamental principle which separates the past nine epochs from our current, eternal one. A fundamental belief, and a tangible truth, that lies at the very heart of each of these failures of the mortal realm. And that is the acknowledgement of the Enlightened Truth: that we should as much obliterate ourselves from the animal, as we should from those forces which bind our fates to the realm of the ¡®gods¡¯.¡± A pause punctuated that statement, as it took me a good few moments, perhaps a full minute to really process what was being said. This was because everything she was saying conflicted with every single one of my expectations of not just the Nexus, but a fantasy-esque realm in general. ¡°The former is self-explanatory-¡± The professor continued. ¡°-in that as sapient beings, we should embrace our sapiency in order to truly self-actualize. It is our attachments to the traits of the animal, which prevents us from higher callings, and ultimately can lead us astray from the path of enlightenment. A life lived in the shadow of the calling of the animal and its instincts, is no better than a life of non-sapiency, after all. The latter topic regarding fates and the gods however, is a tad more complex. A topic which I have yet to touch upon, but one that seems to reflect well on your own beliefs, Cadet Booker.¡± Articord continued in that polite, almost excitable tone before turning back to the board, and the magical hologram around us. Time seemed to rewind without any warning, as the ruins of ancient empires rose back up, only to be dismantled brick by brick as the professor pushed the timeline back all the way to what appeared to be the first ¡®epoch¡¯, back towards the start of that first town, and what looked to be a nondescript place of worship. It resembled a cathedral, but not in the typical way. Instead built around what seemed to be an impossibly large tree acting as its central ¡®spire¡¯. We eventually found ourselves within this structure, facing the walls that seemed to be a mismatch of overgrowth and brick, with the vines themselves pulsating with every hum of prayer from the thousands of wood elves around us. ¡°But before we proceed, I first have a question for the floor.¡± Articord turned down the volume of the environmental sounds around us, reducing the hums and hymns to barely a whisper. ¡°What does a ¡®god¡¯ ultimately want? What are the goals of these¡­ beings that inhabit the immaterial realm of the ¡®divine¡¯?¡± This line of question ultimately resulted in more than a handful of hands to be raised. With all the main suspects holding their respective grounds with a competitive glare. ¡°Lord Qiv?¡± Articord announced. ¡°Worship.¡± He spoke confidently. ¡°Worship for worship¡¯s sake. Without care, without concern, without even the barest of hints or a modicum of decency for the sapients which see them for more than what they are.¡± The professor¡¯s eyes seemed to glaze over at that response at first, but eventually sharpened at the very last few words of that answer. ¡°Elaborate, Lord Qiv.¡± ¡°They are not actual ¡®gods¡¯, Professor. They are merely egotistical beings inhabiting a realm that just so happens to have properties which allow them a greater degree of power and movement above the mortal realm.¡± The gorn-like lizard continued on with a prideful grin. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Only to have it shot down without the barest hint of mercy from the fox professor. ¡°Poetry can only take you so far, Lord Qiv. I require answers based on fact, not a colorful retelling of the truth.¡± Articord spoke with a not-so-hidden frown of disappointment, further colored by a tone of barely-contained annoyance. Qiv¡¯s features for the first time shifted to one of concern, clearly afraid of the consequences of this ¡®inappropriate¡¯ answer. But the docking of points never came. Instead, the professor moved on just as quickly. Next, to Etholin. ¡°Lord Esila?¡± ¡°They want power, professor.¡± The little ferret bowed his head down as he spoke. ¡°Power, derived from the mortal realm, in the form of amusement. They compete in their own games within their elevated stations, removed and completely detached from the suffering they cause.¡± Silence hung in the air after that answer, as the professor once more reached for her temples to sooth what looked like an oncoming migraine. ¡°There we go again.¡± She spoke with frustration. ¡°More and more embellishments added to a historical tale that requires none.¡± Etholin¡¯s features immediately darkened, as he too looked as if he was about to slink down beneath the desk. ¡°The next person who answers incorrectly, will find that I do not wish to entertain half-truths. As it currently stands, I will tolerate these interpretations. For it is in the essence of the less disciplined mind to be more susceptible to the draw of colorful embellishments, rather than to accept the more nuanced historical truth. Moreover, misconceptions abound on the truth behind the seemingly obvious, and it is clear that many of you seem to be of the less-inclined to analyze history in its various retellings.¡± Almost all hands retracted following that warning. All, save for four. Airit, Auris, Ilunor, And Thacea. The latter two having once again locked eyes in agreement, as if instinctively knowing what each was about to say. Surprisingly, the professor chose the deluxe kobold. The small thing standing up tall and proud atop of his seat, hands triumphantly posed by his sides. ¡°Lord Rularia?¡± ¡°They want nothing, professor.¡± The blue thing spoke with a sense of epicness and grandeur. One that immediately brought on the frustrated expression of the professor¡­ but was soon overpowered by a sense of genuine intrigue in the form of a followup question. ¡°Elaborate, Lord Rularia.¡± ¡°Well¡­ you can¡¯t expect a thing, a force of nature, to really have desires now can you?¡± He grinned menacingly, bringing every ounce of that smarmy self-absorbed ego to bear. I looked on, absolutely horrified by this cocky move, empathizing with the gang now with how they probably saw my own daring stunts. Yet instead of seeing a thousand points docked from the group, I instead saw the professor¡¯s lips once more forming into a smile. ¡°Lord Rularia, I will give you one more chance to elaborate before I invoke a Partition of Points. Elaborate on your answer.¡± ¡°The so-called ¡®gods¡¯ can want nothing. For they simply cannot be considered as sapient, as you or I.¡± He started. ¡°A non-sapient, can neither want nor desire anything, and thus it would be foolish to consider otherwise.¡± The professor dwelled on this answer for a few moments, her eyes scrunching up, before letting out a sigh. ¡°I invoke a Partition of Points.¡± She spoke, much to Ilunor¡¯s shock, before turning to Auris Ping. ¡°Lord Ping?¡± ¡°You humble me with your grace, professor.¡± Ping began with a deep bow, before rising up with a confidence he¡¯d lost back in Vanavan¡¯s class. ¡°Lord Rularia¡­ is correct in his assertions, and indeed, I applaud him for such an accurate and candid retelling. Such is to be expected from a member of the Nexian nobility.¡± He regarded Ilunor with a brief nod, the Vunerian reciprocating cautiously, before continuing. ¡°These so-called ¡®gods¡¯, are in fact, merely a force of nature. As meaningless as the forests beyond the Academy¡¯s walls, and as meaningless as the unmoving clouds that blanket these skies. They are thus, non-sapient, and they are thus¡­ not capable of wanting anything. This is true¡­ until you ascribe meaning to their non-sapience. Which those in the prior nine epochs did. Moreover, they constructed entire faiths around these so-called ¡®gods¡¯, ascribed virtues, values, and built entire fictions around their supposed teachings. Simply put, the more and more these false-faiths and deluded minds imbued these ¡®divine forces¡¯ with values and beliefs, the more these ¡®beings¡¯ reciprocated by mimicking them. These¡­ so-called ¡®gods¡¯, were merely mimics, cheap impersonations of the sapient condition, parroting and repeating actions and words that they do not understand.¡± This answer. This¡­ revelation¡­ hung in the air for barely a few seconds before Articord responded. And unlike Vanavan¡¯s wishy-washy personality, she was very clearly bold with her response to Ping¡¯s statements. There was no mention of semantics here. Only cold and hard fervent belief. ¡°Fifty points to this partition.¡± The professor spoke clearly, eliciting the gasps and shocked breaths of a hundred students. ¡°And considering both of your answers, I declare this to be an equal partition. Twenty-five points to Lord Rularia, and twenty-five points to Lord Ping.¡± No one dared to say anything, but it was clear even from here that Qiv was visibly stirring in his own way. The little scaly ¡®ridge¡¯ atop of his head seemed to scrunch up, if only by a bit. Auris, however, was seemingly not done. As another raised hand prompted the professor to sigh, before acknowledging his request. ¡°Yes, Lord Ping?¡± ¡°Professor, if I may. I have a personal point of courtesy to provide for the likes of Lord Ratom and Lord Esila.¡± ¡°Proceed, Lord Ping, but do make it quick.¡± ¡°As you wish, professor.¡± The bull bowed deeply, before setting his hungry sights on the likes of the former two ¡®losers¡¯. ¡°I believe it would be unfair to consider their mistakes as truly sacrilege. I say this, as a man of faith. For our two dear peers were simply misled by the common misinterpretation of the facts. It is very easy to be deluded into thinking that these so-called ¡®gods¡¯ can truly have thoughts and desires, whims and wants. This is because their mimicking of the sapient mind is truly quite remarkable. And indeed at times, you wouldn¡¯t be wrong to consider them more sentient than anything, akin to a common beast. In fact, a number of them do transcend nothingness into simple animal-like sentience.¡± He properly chewed the pair out, before turning to the professor with a faux-sense of compassion. ¡°So I beg your pardon on the behalf of my fellow peers¡¯ ignorance, professor.¡± The bull finally bowed, prompting Articord to simply raise a hand in acknowledgement. ¡°Point of courtesy noted, Lord Ping. I appreciate your kind gesture.¡± The fox responded, before turning back towards me with a renewed vigor. ¡°Our predecessors, and indeed the inhabitants of many adjacent worlds once looked into the eyes of these beasts and assumed them to be gods by virtue of their power, Cadet Booker.¡± She paused, before gesturing towards the hologram of the ancient place of worship around us. ¡°This ended up costing everything. They entrusted these things with blind faith, they entrusted beings and creatures of nature with the well-being of the sapient world. They willingly bound their souls, their very fates, to the whims of these others. They were fools, worshiping at the altar of self-delusion.¡± There was a pause, as the professor gestured to the place of worship around us, using something akin to a wipe transition to show the place as it was at its height, and what remained of it following the apocalyptic collapse. ¡°The fates of each of the nine epochs were sealed the moment they made their pacts with these false gods. For even with the resistance of those who would wish for freedom from the tyranny of these ¡®gods¡¯, there were always ten more fools who would wish to consign their very being to the ¡®gods¡¯ for their own self-deluded aspirations.¡± The professor spoke in a way that felt raw, a seething hatred stirring within each and every one of her words. ¡°This brings me back to the Enlightened Truth, that the obliteration of the self from the animal and the ¡®divine realm¡¯, is necessary for the progression of civilized society. The former is necessary for self-discipline, for reasoned thought, for a civil society based on sapient rules. The latter however, is an existential concern. One that defines either self-determination and survival by the mortal hand, or tyranny and assured destruction by the whims of ¡®gods¡¯ that care not for the fates of a single, a hundred, a thousand, or even a million realms.¡± Articord once more clarified, finally circling back to her point as she eyed me down with a severe expression. ¡°The Status Eternia in which we all enjoy, is based upon these fundamental enlightened truths. For we, as enlightened mortal rulers, protect the masses from the follies of their own short-sightedness. All of this, stemming from His Eternal Majesty¡¯s own enlightened guidance, in bringing about this era of mortal self-determination.¡± There was a pause, a lengthy one at that, following the professor¡¯s speech. But once again, unlike Vanavan¡¯s, it felt like there was substance here. The lore of this world, the beliefs which lay at its very core, were being unraveled layer by biased layer. It was¡­ difficult to discern what aspects of it were true or what were just flat-out propaganda-laden spiels however. And that was simply because of the fantastical nature of all of this. If these ¡®gods¡¯ did exist, if there was even an inkling of truth behind what were undoubtedly layers of condensed and rehearsed propaganda, then an entire layer of complexity had just been instantly added to the greater story of the Nexus. There were so many questions popping into my head right now. But one above all else made its way to the surface, if only to clarify one, very important point. ¡°And just how exactly did ¡®His Eternal Majesty¡¯ bring about this ¡®era of mortal self-determination¡¯?¡± I asked, prompting the professor¡¯s maw to curl up in an attempt at an elf-like grin. ¡°By taking back that which was stolen or foolishly relinquished from the mortal realm. By tearing from the hands of the realm of the ¡®gods¡¯, that which had formerly led to its destruction nine times over. By taking back the fate of the mortal world, back from the gods.¡± The professor paused, her eyes gleaning over the rest of the room, as if considering whether or not to bridge this answer into a classroom exercise. A hand was raised immediately as a result. Auris Ping¡¯s hand. Articord¡¯s nod of acknowledgement came quickly. And with it, came the bull¡¯s blunt addition. ¡°By killing the gods.¡± He spoke with fiery excitement. ¡°Blunt, but correct, Lord Ping.¡± Another exchange of nods came, and with it, Articord continued without missing a single beat. ¡°His Eternal Majesty, in his infinite wisdom, was a scholar amongst scholars. He saw evidence of the destruction of the past nine epochs and he determined its most obvious cause. So before the cycle could begin anew, before we returned to that path of self-assured destruction, he committed to the greatest gambit ever undertaken in known history. He decided to fight the gods¡­ and he won. In so doing, he elevated himself into a position never before seen ¡ª a marriage of mortal sapiency, and raw godly powers. Whereas before we were at the whims of these non-sapient, at-best animal-like beings, now¡­ we are governed by an enlightened mind. Protected by godly powers which are now at the beck and call of an enlightened being.¡± ¡°His Eternal Majesty, in effect, placed the fate of mortals back where it belongs - in the hands of the mortals.¡± Articord concluded with an air of reverence and satisfaction, and a twinge of what I could only describe as someone actively recalling a life event. My head was practically spinning at this point. Not a moment had passed by since ¡®gods¡¯ were revealed to me as actual entities, that their supposed ¡®defeat¡¯ at the hands of ''His Eternal Majesty'' was announced. I didn¡¯t know what to think at that point. I needed time to just¡­ process it all. ¡°So how did he gain all these powers?¡± I suddenly asked. ¡°Politically and¡­ practically I mean. Just by beating the gods?¡± Auris smiled at that, turning to the professor as if to confirm if he was allowed to answer. A simple nod was his response. Which prompted him to grin all the while. ¡°Simple, Cadet Emma Booker. He did so, by consuming the gods.¡± ¡­ ¡°WHAT?!¡± Chapter 75: A God A Day Keeps Oblivion Away The look on Auris Ping¡¯s face made one thing very clear to me; and that was that he clearly didn¡¯t share the same degree of shock, confusion, nor disbelief I was currently experiencing. Which was to be expected, all things considered. Moreover, he seemed all too happy to address my sudden and abrupt question, if that smug toothy grin was of any indication. ¡°He consumed them, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The bull responded by simply repeating his words, though this time with an increasing glut of haughtiness. ¡°Was the aim of your question for me to elaborate further, or did you simply require me to repeat myself?¡± He continued, feigning a thinly-veiled theatrical ignorance that wouldn¡¯t have been out of place in your typical telenovela. ¡°I assume your intent might¡¯ve been the former, considering the word choice involved.¡± The bull paused, before shifting his posture, crossing his arms in a sort of dismissive arrogance. ¡°Though I wouldn¡¯t discount the latter option either, considering your propensity for wearing that eccentric form of dress, would more than likely result in a fair share of regrettably practical shortcomings - such as the ability to hear properly, for instance.¡± I could practically feel that renewed sense of haughtiness radiating from the bull¡¯s face alone. His body stood tall and proud, towering over his peers, as if basking in the comeback he¡¯d made in Articord¡¯s class. A comeback propelled almost entirely by zealotry, by simply sticking to his guns, and maintaining that unwavering dogma that at this point benefitted him rather than detracted from his class participation. Every fiber of my being was telling me to find some sort of witty comeback, some way to slap this bull back to reality. But I didn¡¯t. As I simply resolved myself to one of Thacea¡¯s many, many talking points last night. One that simply boiled down to a rather obvious fact that I often overlooked ¡ª that winning isn¡¯t always about outright defeating an enemy. Sometimes, it¡¯s just about depriving your enemy of what they want. Which in this case simply meant, not to react to the obvious bait. ¡°Right. So, all of that aside, can we get back to the point? All I wanted to know was exactly what you meant by the whole ¡®consume the gods¡¯ comment. Like, do you mean that in a metaphorical sense? Like did he take their place in the divine pecking order or something? Or is it something a bit more metaphysical? Like, did he ascend to godhood and is now like running things from the ¡®realm of the divine¡¯? Or is it like, something weirdly literal like¡­ the gods manifesting themselves into physical forms and then like¡­ after being defeated, being carved up for a one-man all-you-can-eat Sunday Roast or something?¡± That entire pile of questions seemed to be just what was needed to trip up the raging bull right off of his game. As he glared at me now more with annoyance than blatant superiority. ¡°You needn¡¯t be so¡­ common with your oddly-specific descriptors, newrealmer. But alas, it is my duty to address those points all the same. You see, it¡¯s quite simple, His-¡± Auris stopped in his tracks, rudely interrupted by the doors to the class shuddering in place, the locks placed upon it rattling along with its chains. Articord could do nothing but to sigh at the sight, as the faintest hints of music could be heard just from behind the threshold of the door. ¡°You are all dismissed for lunch.¡± She spoke to the entire class, before turning towards me specifically. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Yes Professor?¡± ¡°Your question need not warrant an entire period¡¯s worth of explanation. I advise that you seek the answers to your questions from your peers. But do not worry. I will not allow this venture to go unchecked or unaided. For this shall be your homework for the next class. This way, I can attest to the veracity and the fidelity of the answers you find-¡± The professor paused, before eying the rest of the students. ¡°-and gauge just how well-informed the rest of your peers actually are.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± I responded with a nod, before standing up in the order of peer group points, out and into lunch.
The Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 1215 Emma ¡°So, let me get this straight.¡± I began, maintaining eye contact and a dead-pan expression despite no one outside of the armor being capable of reciprocating. ¡°First, he started a war against the gods.¡± ¡°Correct.¡± Ilunor nodded impatiently. ¡°And then he defeated them¡­ somehow, with lots of magic and social trickery and a whole bunch of followers in an apocalyptic battle that literally and I quote: ¡®shattered the world in two¡¯.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± He nodded once more. ¡°And after defeating them¡­ he just¡­ up and consumed them? Like, you said it was one by one, sure, great, that¡¯s a cool detail. But like, how exactly did he do that?¡± The Vunerian exhaled deeply through a look of utter frustration, before presenting me with his lunch, a spread of beautifully presented meats and vegetables, and what looked to be a leavened flatbread. ¡°These are the gods.¡± He pointed at the meat spread. ¡°And this is the vessel by which he ensnared their essences.¡± He pointed at the flatbread. ¡°And now, if you¡¯ll entertain this analogy, imagine I was His Eternal Majesty.¡± Ilunor continued, carefully and daintily placing the various meats and vegetables into a neat little pile onto his fluffy flatbread that kept getting larger, and larger¡­ and larger still; until it looked like the flatbread itself couldn¡¯t was about to lose all semblances of structural integrity. ¡°I perform various rituals, probably taking days if not weeks.¡± He continued, stretching this analogy further by folding the bread into a neat envelope-style parcel. Creating something halfway between a burrito and a pita wrap. ¡°And then finally, after all that endless work, I consume.¡± The blue thing did not hold back as he politely, yet firmly, stuffed that entire self-constructed sandwich into his gaping maw. A feat that I was not prepared to witness. A feat that immediately broke something in my brain, as I felt like I needed a hard reboot following that stunt. Soon enough, with bulged cheeks and a ravenous, yet somehow polite and reserved chew sequence, he spoke. ¡°And that¡¯s that, earthrealmer.¡± To say I was taken aback, would¡¯ve been the understatement of the century, as I turned towards both Thacea and Thalmin who each seemed to share a similar sentiment. ¡°Is that¡­ literally what happened?¡± ¡°Not literally, Emma.¡± Thacea spoke. ¡°But if the stories, scriptures, and historical texts are to be believed, then this¡­ analogy is surprisingly apt. Down to the collection of powerful immortal god-like essences which were in effect, absorbed into His Eternal Majesty by way of nth-tier spells and rituals which spanned entire realms.¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t have summarized it better myself.¡± Thalmin acknowledged Thacea with a respectful nod, before turning towards me. ¡°For as much as I have my¡­ reservations on the truth behind the scripture, if I were to speak purely from what historical records show, this is exactly how things developed Emma. And likewise, this is one of the reasons why the Nexus has maintained its primacy for so very long. Because as much as I hate to say it, His Eternal Majesty¡¯s well¡­ eternal existence, and the power of the gods he has absorbed, has in effect acted as a palpable threat that keeps everyone in line. We saw this first hand on multiple occasions, the most cataclysmic of which was in the Last Great War.¡± ¡°Whilst your crediting of His Eternal Majesty¡¯s divine powers and raw unbridled magical potential is much appreciated Thalmin, you underestimate the role the Nexus itself played during the conflict.¡± The Vunerian spoke politely, and not belittingly, towards the lupinor. Before shifting his sights back towards me. ¡°For you see, Emma, it is important to note that His Eternal Majesty¡¯s aims, of the crystallization of society at its peak, has worked wonders in maintaining the Nexus¡¯ unwavering superiority. By retaking the fate of the mortals back from the gods, His Eternal Majesty has now fully embraced maintaining the mortal realm at its precipice, ad infinitum. Which means that any war, or any use of force, will always and forever be at its optimum. And any opponent that dares face the Nexus, will always be facing it at its height.¡± The Vunerian paused, taking a moment to completely destroy another pita wrap, before continuing. ¡°Never a wilt, never a falter.¡± I took a moment to pause at that, to regard everything the Vunerian was saying through a critical lens. ¡°This makes more sense the more we talk about anything outside of his mythos.¡± I began, muttering out in open thought, garnering the curious and critical eyes of the rest of the gang. ¡°His Eternal Majesty seems to have done his homework in statecraft, and then some. Because in order to have maintained¡­ this, in any capacity, for this amount of time, is to have transitioned away from the temptation of simply resorting to the blanket use of the threat of violence in order to solve everything; which is probably something really tempting given all of his power - and into a more advanced set of social controls. Now don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m sure the threat of violence is still there, no doubt, but all of this?¡± I gestured around us. ¡°The layer upon layers of social decorum, the adherence to the state religion, the cult of personality, and the institutionalization of cultural normative values that enshrines the participation of major keys to power within a system of his own making? He¡¯s built a system. And a system that people, like yourself Ilunor, subscribes to, at that.¡± I eventually went back into deep thought, as another unsettling realization came to mind. ¡°And¡­ he¡¯s immortal too, right? Like, it hasn¡¯t been clarified yet whether or not he¡¯s-¡± ¡°Of course he¡¯s immortal, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor rebutted, finally regaining his footing. ¡°It¡¯s in the name. His Eternal Majesty, the eternal aspect of it referring to an eternality following the founding of the contemporary Nexus proper.¡± Then it¡¯s not just a system that¡¯s subject to change due to the gradual and unavoidable ebbs and flows of a dynasty or family¡­ it¡¯s set in stone by virtue of a truly eternal figurehead. I thought to myself darkly. ¡°I don¡¯t see why you¡¯re more fascinated with this aspect of His Eternal Majesty, as opposed to his raw unbridled power, or the resultant boons of his reign, Earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor pulled me out of that thought with a genuine and earnest question. ¡°Because it¡¯s a key aspect of this whole system that allows it to work as it does.¡± I muttered out in deep thought. ¡°His continued existence is the keystone by which everything rests. It¡¯s not so much only about his power, but what his continued existence represents, and the fact that presumably he¡¯s still the one calling the shots, ensuring a sort of fidelity throughout an endless reign. I¡¯m sure his power is impressive, Ilunor, but when you¡¯ve lived with your people possessing the same sort of power, that particular aspect of him becomes less impressive to me just by me being jaded to it honestly.¡± The Vunerian responded by eying me a look of cautious doubt. I had no doubt that he was tentatively considering my words, especially those latter ones, with a dose of heavy skepticism. But unlike before where he¡¯d just dismiss it all on account of my manalessness, it was clear that he was at least actively considering it this time around. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. I clicked my speakers off. ¡°EVI.¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Set up some roadmaps for me on what you calculate to be the best trajectory forwards in the slow and gradual reveal of humanity¡¯s ¡®power¡¯. We¡¯ve started with the basics, with civilian stuff for a reason. But let¡¯s maybe consider something more tangible as we go on with next week¡¯s sight-seeing adventure.¡± ¡°Acknowledged, Cadet Booker.¡± With the EVI running in the background now, I simply sat there watching everyone eating their lunches within their respective privacy fields, ruminating on the information I was being fed from the mouth of the Nexus itself; and dissecting each and every aspect of it for what it was worth. I knew for a fact my brain was in denial right now. That was probably why I¡¯d chosen to think about what I knew was real (the whole political situation), rather than what I was struggling to treat as equally true ¡ª His Eternal Majesty, and the whole ¡®god¡¯ situation. The fantasy fiction loving side of me could easily understand it, and was willing to go for it. But the practical real world minded side of me just couldn¡¯t fully process it. My two sides simply refused to cooperate right now, especially with something this insane. ¡°You¡¯re simply in denial, Earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor managed out, as if he was reading my mind. ¡°What?¡± I responded, clicking my speakers back on in the process. ¡°His Eternal Majesty is a lot to take in, in just one lesson. Just give it time, and soon enough, you shall see the light of enlightenment as the rest of us have.¡± The Vunerian spoke confidently, but not so much in the Auris Ping sense. Moreso, it was clear his faith wasn¡¯t as overly zealous. Which was just another fascinating thing to take note of.
The Grand Concourse of Learning. His Majesty¡¯s Hall. Local Time: 1545. Emma The return to class, and indeed the entirety of the rest of class, was marked by a radical shift in the flow of information and the vibe of the class as a whole. No longer was it fixated on a deep and rich lore-filled narrative, presented in a way that was emotionally engaging; instead it¡¯d taken a sort of dryer academic approach. It was as if the professor had decided that the theater of history was enough for one day, and was now compensating for it by pivoting hard towards a Vanavan-approved blackboard lecture. Moreover, it was sort of a foundation class similar to Vanavan¡¯s attempt at laying down the ¡®basics¡¯ of his subject. Which in this case, was Adjacent Realm History and Politics. There was, however, a lot of good that came from this particular period. And by good, I meant sweet, sweet intel. Because unlike the first period that was filled with more alleged facts than a 26th century corpo exec¡¯s self-biographical exploits, the second period was thankfully a lot more cut and dry with it being a straightforward foundational class. Because it primarily focused on describing and analyzing exactly what an ¡®adjacent realm¡¯ was, and all of its associated historical and political implications. ¡°As a matter of fact, the term Adjacent Realm is a vague and nebulous one when one tries to view it from a geographical or planar lens. For all it truly is, is an abstract catch-all term that describes any ¡®realm¡¯ of peoples united by the commonality that is species, and to an extent, shared cultures. There have been some instances where several ¡®realms¡¯ have existed beneath the same skies and atop of the same dirt. And other instances where they may share the same greater plane of existence, whilst disconnected to one another¡¯s dirt and skies. For the most part however, a ¡®realm¡¯ typically remains disconnected from any other, united only by the creation of portals, through the Nexus itself. Which brings me to my next point: the Nexus. Which, as you might imagine, acts as a natural hub through which all inter-realm and interdimensional travel flows. Indeed, if one views it from this lens, the term ¡®adjacent realm¡¯ starts to make an increasing amount of sense. As its ¡®adjacency¡¯ stems from its orbit around the Nexus. Moreover, its ¡®adjacency¡¯ likewise stems from its secondary status as an entity. Creation myths aside, it is a known fact that an adjacent realm is lacking in all the primary characteristics that defines the Nexus. Anything from the richness of mana, to the breadth and depth of its physical size, remains almost entirely subordinate to that of the Nexus. Indeed, the further one analyzes this trend, the more and more apt the term ¡®adjacent realm¡¯ truly becomes. But that is where I will leave it. Your homework is to find at least one more example of a way in which the term ¡®Adjacent Realm¡¯ is an apt descriptor, when compared to that of the Nexus.¡± That nugget of information was a heck of a lot denser and more useful than the entirety of one of Vanavan¡¯s ¡®nomenclature¡¯ classes already. The class continued further after that point, but after a good while of listening, my mind couldn¡¯t help but to continue zoning in and out of my obsession over the whole ¡®Eternal Majesty¡¯ situation. That particular aspect of the Nexus¡¯ lore still didn¡¯t sit right with me. Before I knew it however, class abruptly ended, once more to the tune of the band that came and went with a frustrated look from the fox professor. ¡°Class dismissed.¡± She spoke through a tired exhale. ¡°And do not forget your homework. That counts for a not-so-insignificant portion of your grades.¡± We found ourselves once more, exiting the class based on points. The results of which, was nothing short of surprising. With Auris Ping¡¯s group taking the lead, Qiv¡¯s group falling two levels behind him¡­ and our group somehow taking second place thanks to Ilunor. This¡­ came much to the chagrin of the gorn-like lizard who glared at us every step of the way back to the dorms.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 1620 Hours. Emma There was one question that didn¡¯t leave my mind, even as we arrived back in the dorms, and an automatic privacy field was erected by someone in the gang. ¡°Do you guys actually believe in what Articord is preaching? Because from what I can see, it¡¯s clear that the mileage of belief kinda varies. You got true believers like Ping, that one¡¯s obvious enough. But I can¡¯t put my finger on whether or not even bootlickers like Qiv really believe. There¡¯s a vibe that I can¡¯t really explain away, but it feels like there¡¯s some disconnect between them.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re curious where we fall in that hypothetical sliding scale of belief, Emma?¡± Thacea clarified. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Belief¡­ is a complicated beast, Emma.¡± Thalmin began, showing a clear distaste in the question itself; one I half-expected yet still felt sorry for having asked now. ¡°What I do believe, that the rest of you ought to believe in as well, is that out of all the paths a civilization may or could ever take, that this is the assured path to salvation.¡± Ilunor continued from Thalmin, and unlike the former¡¯s more reserved answer, it was clear Ilunor wasn¡¯t going to hold back when it came to his own beliefs. ¡°And I don¡¯t mean salvation in the theological or metaphysical sense, but salvation as it pertains to civilization itself. For underneath all of the scripture and mythos, lies the cold and hard truth ¡ª that a civilization is ultimately meant to sustain those within it, and the legacies built throughout its course. Without it, we¡¯re no better than animals fending for each and every one of ourselves in the forests, beholden to the laws of nature. Civilization, is a sapient¡¯s attempt at enforcing the will of himself over the laws of nature. With that being said, civilization is also about making everyone immortal, defeating death itself by virtue of the arts and the maintenance of legacy. If a civilization falls, everyone falls with it, past, present, and future. Fidelity is needed across the unimaginable stretch of eternity and a mere man, or a single dynasty simply cannot do that. We¡¯ve seen it happen over and over and over again, even you saw the sights, did you not, Earthrealmer?¡± ¡°Just get to the point, Ilunor.¡± I muttered out. The Vunerian sighed instinctively in response. ¡°What I¡¯m getting at, earthrealmer, is that whether or not you believe is irrelevant so long as you subscribe to the most basic of objective truths ¡ª that this system is the only system capable of meaningful longevity. And ultimately, as rulers of our own civilizations, we must subscribe to this notion if we are to succeed in the ultimate goal of enlightened rule ¡ª continuity. Anything less will not suffice. It¡¯ll simply be a subscription to either tested paths of assured destruction, or untested paths paved with unnecessary risks.¡± The Vunerian paused following that, turning to both Thacea and Thalmin as if expecting them to back him up. The latter of which, actually addressed me in the most candid way possible. ¡°Your system of governance is an anomaly, Emma.¡± Thalmin finally uttered out. ¡°Either due to the lack of mana and the diversification of those with the keys to civilization, or a plethora of other variables I¡¯m clearly not taking into account, it is difficult to truly imagine how it continues without collapsing.¡± ¡°Maybe that¡¯s because it¡¯s only a matter of time-¡± ¡°Then it would¡¯ve collapsed already, Ilunor.¡± Thalmin snapped back. ¡°There have been Kingdoms and Empires that lasted for only a fraction of the time Earthrealm has maintained its current iteration. Which, you¡¯ve mentioned, is what, at a thousand or so years, Emma?¡± ¡°Roughly thereabouts, yes.¡± I acknowledged with a nod. ¡°At least, depending on how you define our actual founding date. It¡¯s very much debated but¡­ it¡¯s safe to say that it¡¯s very much around the millennium mark now yeah.¡± ¡°The fact remains, Ilunor, that Emma¡¯s realm demonstrates that there is perhaps an alternative to the model His Eternal Majesty provides. A secondary path, which whilst more precarious, is somehow self-correcting.¡± Thalmin offered. ¡°That¡¯s to be expected coming from what is ostensibly an ostracized self-anointed family, Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor shot back, prompting Thalmin to ignore him entirely as he refocused his attention squarely on me. ¡°To answer your question, Emma? I do not worship His Eternal Majesty as a god. Moreover, I simply see him as a god, by virtue of his actions of having both defeated and consuming the old gods. In all honesty, my faith lies in the old beliefs of my realm, and it is as simple as that.¡± Thalmin reasoned. Ilunor didn¡¯t respond to this. But the look on his face was more or less enough for me to guestimate what he was pondering deep within. ¡°I¡­ hold a similar view to that of Thalmin¡¯s.¡± Thacea quickly added. ¡°However, with that being said, both of our realms and their relatively recent Nexian Reformations, probably contribute to this mentality. With more time comes more acceptance of the reformations, and thus more faith in the eternal truths, as seen by Lord Qiv.¡± ¡°And Lord Ping? Why didn¡¯t you bring him up as an example?¡± ¡°Simple, Emma. His realm is an exception. Moreover, even his family is an exception. Both of which constitute a rather eccentric take on the Nexian Reformations, whereby the uplifting of the lives of the people coincided with several miracles that truly did benefit their realm. They herald His Eternal Majesty as a savior for he truly did save them from a far more malicious regime. Or at least, that¡¯s what is publicly known.¡± I paused, taking everything into consideration, before Thalmin hit me with a rather unexpected question. ¡°So what about you, Emma. You were quite vague with your beliefs in class, what is it you believe in?¡± ¡°Ah, oh, that¡¯s quite a big question you¡¯re asking me there, Thalmin.¡± I acknowledged with a nervous chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s only fair to ask since you asked us about our faiths on His Eternal Majesty after all.¡± The wolf raised a brow of curiosity, prompting Thacea to side-eye him, as if in doubt of his social tact. ¡°Prince Thalmin, if Emma is uncomfortable with divulging that sort of information, she needn¡¯t-¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright, Thacea.¡± I cut the princess off with a single raise of my hand. ¡°Right, so, on paper? I¡¯m Buddhist. It¡¯s one of the many religions present in my realm right now, but long story short, I¡¯m not that much of a devout believer. Like, yeah, I believe, but it¡¯s sort of like a comforting sorta thing you know? It¡¯s nice to have something to believe in after certain events that rattle you, and it¡¯s nice to have something comforting, even if it is a personal belief.¡± I shrugged. The wolf pondered this for a moment, and his next question came as a rather interesting surprise. ¡°So there are multiple faiths in your realm, Emma?¡± ¡°Yup. The UN¡¯s whole thing is personal freedoms, so that also extends to freedom of religion.¡± I paused, trying my best to gauge Thalmin¡¯s current expression. ¡°I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s not really a thing here, then.¡± ¡°Not in the Nexus, no. And most certainly not after the Nexian Reformations in an adjacent realm.¡± Thalmin answered with a thoughtful gaze, before shifting to a sullen smile. ¡°But I should¡¯ve expected as much. This is, after all, coming from a realm with multiple accepted languages as the norm.¡± ¡°In any case-¡± Thacea began, trying her best to bridge the conversation off of where it was headed, and towards something more productive. ¡°-I needn¡¯t remind you all of our expectant duties this evening.¡± She paused, bringing out her little magical timepiece that once more pinged the mana notification folder on my HUD. ¡°Dinner?¡± I offered. ¡°Yes, Emma.¡± ¡°Well, I sorta had something I really wanted to do. Something that Ilunor here had more or less made impossible the other night.¡± I snapped back, eyeing the little blue thing with an annoyed glare. ¡°Your absence yesterday, coupled with the events following it, is enough to cause undue scrutiny on your reputation, Emma. I suggest that we all commit to our personal quests and responsibilities after tonight¡¯s dinner.¡± Thacea spoke firmly, eyeing everyone, from Thalmin, to Ilunor, and even myself. Acting almost like the group¡¯s unofficial mother once again. ¡°Alright, as long as we get to leave as quickly as possible.¡± I offered. ¡°Indeed, I have been falling short of my own martial discipline as of late, considering everything we¡¯ve had to go through.¡± Thalmin quickly added. ¡°I will depart for the gymnasium following the conclusion of tonight¡¯s dinner.¡± ¡°Please tell me the gymnasium is just a normal gym and not like The Library¡¯s equivalent, with lions and sports instead of owls and books?¡± I asked out loud, my filters failing for a moment as that intrusive idea blasted itself towards the forefront of my mind. This elicited something of a befuddled look to form on Thalmin¡¯s face, as he responded in a dead-pan tone of voice. ¡°No, Emma. It is not. It is simply the school¡¯s gymnasium, a designated area for physical activities and sports, such as spencing for instance.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I acknowledged with a self-deprecating laugh. ¡°I definitely knew that.¡± ¡°Your imagination really knows no bounds sometimes, Earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor offered, before turning towards the door wordlessly, and dangerously side-stepping towards the food cart. ¡°Hey, hey! No touching! That¡¯s for me and my experiments!¡± I announced loudly, hopping towards the Vunerian as both Thacea and Thalmin followed shortly thereafter, both of them practically rolling their eyes at my shenanigans as we all eventually filed out and into the hall towards an early dinner. I will eat something half-decent soon. I promised myself, as the EVI began running through all of the recommended M-REDD experiment protocols one by one. Chapter 76: A Workout to Die For Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 19:20 Hours. Emma ¡°Civilization collapse is a scary thing, I do admit, but you can only be ruled by fear for so long before it starts taking over and stagnation takes root.¡± I began, continuing off of the conversation that had started within the dorms, but that had somehow evolved and morphed into something else during dinner, before reaching something of a boiling point now that we¡¯d arrived back in the dorms following a rather uneventful evening out. I had planned on conducting the M-REDD experiments whilst everyone was away. But apparently, another evening spent away from the public eye would¡¯ve brought a lot of unnecessary scrutiny my way, especially with the whole bird assault saga still very much on everyone¡¯s minds. ¡°You interchangeably swap the terms stability for stagnation, Cadet Emma Booker. This makes me question whether or not this is a purposeful lexical choice on your behalf, or whether you lack the capacity to discern the nuances between the two.¡± ¡°It¡¯s purposeful, Ilunor.¡± I responded in no uncertain terms, but only after a quick comparative vocab analysis courtesy of the EVI. ¡°Because while I do see where you¡¯re coming from, and while I honestly and genuinely empathize with everything that comes with uncovering the truth of being the tenth in a long line of fallen civilizations, the fact of the matter is you can¡¯t allow their shortcomings to define who it is you are today. They should be learned from, but they shouldn¡¯t be an outright reason to entrench yourself in¡­¡± ¡°Permanence?¡± Thalmin offered. ¡°Yeah, permanence. And moreso, the propagation of a system that simply survives for its own sake-¡± ¡°-and for the sake of the cultural and historical legacy of those living within it.¡± Ilunor quickly snapped, attempting to correct me mid-sentence. ¡°That may be the case, and again I did say that I see where you¡¯re coming from. But that doesn¡¯t stop you from trying to progress avenues of policy with the intent of enshrining the well being of everyone living within it; and enriching the lives of those people living today.¡± ¡°A system such as your own, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°I mean, that¡¯s what we¡¯ve been attempting to do ever since we united.¡± I acknowledged with a shrug. ¡°It is easy for you to make such bold claims with no fear of collapse, when you yourself lack the capacity or the access to the capabilities which might bring about such cataclysms.¡± ¡°Oh trust me, we¡¯ve had some close calls of our own.¡± I countered, keeping myself just on the edge of acceptable vagueness. Something Ilunor quickly called me on almost immediately. ¡°Are you saying your mana-less kind possesses, or has access to realm-destroying levels of power through even more of these mana-less artifices?¡± This left me at an awkward impasse, prompting me to gesture towards my gun, and the mothership drone that has since folded in on itself like a loafing cat, behind us. ¡°You started this week off believing that a mana-less individual couldn¡¯t exist. I proved you wrong by simply walking through that portal. You then maintained the belief that a mana-less being couldn¡¯t possibly create constructs capable of matching or inflicting damage on the scale of a mage. I proved you wrong two times over now on that account, the first when I demonstrated the use of my gun, and the second in service of your side-quest. Just a few days ago, you maintained the belief a mana-less being couldn¡¯t possibly achieve flight¡­ Do I need to go on?¡± ¡°You need not go on, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor replied with a frustrated huff. ¡°However, I also need not remind you of a very important factor you¡¯re simply not considering. And that is simply, that you have yet to consider the role the fates and the gods may play in your realm.¡± ¡°If you mean gods in the typical sense, Ilunor, how do you imagine them to survive in a mana-less realm?¡± Thalmin interjected, more or less destroying Ilunor¡¯s argument in the process as his maw hung agape all the while. I chose to move on following that little save from the lupinor, giving the wolf a thankful nod before continuing. ¡°We don¡¯t need the interference of magical higher powers to force us into a situation of potential societal collapse, Ilunor.¡± I announced with a regretful sigh. ¡°We¡¯ve pushed ourselves to that brink several times over. And yet¡­ we¡¯ve managed to pull through each and every time. I guess in your mind, you could attribute that to the lack of any magical deities that affected our minds or the decisions of our leaders or whatever magical conspiracy you wanna spout. But honestly, I¡¯d attribute it to how I genuinely believe that our better judgment won out at the end of the day. Because ultimately, we both are on the same page when it comes to this particular argument, Ilunor.¡± I attempted to sway the talking points into an unexpected direction, taking the Vunerian off-guard. ¡°And pray tell, what could we possibly see eye-to-eye on, Earthrealmer?¡± ¡°We both value the sanctity of civilization. We both want to see it continue, and for the legacies of the past to be enshrined. But while you guys have built yourselves a museum to the past, and an altar to the present, you¡¯ve inadvertently constructed a tomb for your future. We, on the other hand, have built a library in the bowels of a ship. Where that ship goes, and what adventures await us, we don¡¯t know. But what we do know is that the more that library grows, the more we can improve that ship so that we can carry on our legacy, into whatever new sights and adventures we inevitably sail into.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t take you to be a poet, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor chided. ¡°Well, I guess I pick things up rather quickly.¡± I shrugged in response. ¡°Perhaps you do have a point, Earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor acknowledged, much to my surprise. ¡°Perhaps we do value the same things. But that doesn¡¯t change the fact that your way, is foolish and shortsighted.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve held our own, and maintained our government for practically a millennium now, Ilunor.¡± ¡°And the Eternal Regime has maintained itself, and the stability of its adjacent realms, ten, twenty, thirty-fold over that amount of time, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor spoke without skipping a single beat. ¡°Ilunor-¡± Thalmin finally interjected, a stoic look of confidence acting as a perfect counter to Ilunor¡¯s bombastic personality. ¡°-have you perhaps considered that it is exactly because of their mana-less state that they lack the same problems faced by the Nexus?¡± ¡°Explain yourself, lupinor.¡± ¡°Simply put, perhaps it is exactly due to their chaotic and independent nature, free from the inexplicable shackles that comes with a mana-based society, that allows them to create something so novel that it defies traditional cycles of collapse?¡± ¡°Perhaps it is, or perhaps it isn¡¯t.¡± Thacea finally chimed in, much to the surprise of Ilunor who was about to commit to a lungful of retorts that¡¯d otherwise probably chew up most of the night in the yappings of a deluxe kobold. ¡°But perhaps now would be the best time to finally go about our own ways. Curfew is, after all, still in effect. And despite it being extended into midnight following the end of the grace period, it would still be prudent to make haste with our respective personal responsibilities.¡± This abrupt and unexpected bit of mediation was a breath of fresh air, and once again proved to be successful as both Thalmin and Ilunor nodded in unison. ¡°A wise and fair assessment, Thacea.¡± The lupinor acknowledged, disengaging from the conversation entirely, and heading to the front door with a series of heavy footsteps. ¡°I will see you either later tonight, or in the morning for classes.¡± ¡°Have fun at the gym, Thalmin!¡± I bid him a bit of a farewell with a wave, just as Ilunor too scampered off towards the door with a series of skittering footsteps. ¡°And where exactly are you going, Ilunor?¡± I breathed out frustratingly. ¡°I have other friends too, Earthrealmer.¡± He responded curtly. ¡°I want to talk to people beyond just our social circle.¡± ¡°Fair.¡± I acknowledged, before diving into a tone of voice that was unabashedly stern. ¡°Just don¡¯t screw up like the last time you did with Mal¡¯tory.¡± I stated in no uncertain terms, prompting the Vunerian to stop mid-step. ¡°We¡¯re already on thin ice as it is with that fiasco. So just know that while I am amenable to helping, that there¡¯s a limit to how far I¡¯m willing to go, Ilunor. I¡¯m not saying this to be mean, nor am I asserting my dominance as a Nexian or whatever. But I feel like I need to say this, just going off of your track record so far.¡± ¡°Noted.¡± Was all Ilunor said, as with an incredulous huff in what I assumed to be a begrudging display of acknowledgement, he left, once more slamming the door hard behind him. That left just me and Thacea together, prompting me to turn towards her with an appreciative smile. ¡°Thanks for the save there, Thacea. I know, I know. I know what you¡¯re about to say. I should¡¯ve disengaged way before then. But¡­ I don¡¯t know, maybe it¡¯s because I needed to vent a bit after class given how utterly insane all of these revelations have been. Maybe I just feel a need to come to grips with all of this, and with Ilunor¡¯s constant desires to reaffirm the whole Nexian narrative, I felt a need to go back and forth with him on it. I don¡¯t know, maybe I¡¯m just really out of it right now, maybe-¡± ¡°-you¡¯re just hungry, Emma.¡± Thacea interjected in what was probably one of the least verbose and most candid moments in any of our interactions thus far. ¡°W-what?¡± ¡°Most sapients that rely on physical sustenance as an aspect of their living form, are often not themselves, and find themselves becoming something else when they are hungry.¡± She elaborated, more or less going back on the lack of verboseness. ¡°And judging by the number, or lack thereof, of these rations you have been consuming throughout the day¡­ I assume your cognitive and emotional capacity is perhaps hampered by a distressing lack of nutrition.¡± I didn¡¯t expect Thacea¡¯s unofficial group mom title to carry through this far, especially with her concern being so palpable now that we were alone. ¡°You know what Thacea-¡± I began, once more reaching behind my head awkwardly. ¡°-you¡¯re right. I guess I am pretty hungry now that I think about it.¡± I chuckled, as the alien and unwelcome sensation of genuine hunger burned my insides. ¡°I¡¯m trying my best to ration out these nutripaste tubes as much as I can right now, until I can confirm that the M-REDD is actually capable of de-manafying foodstuffs that can actually service my nutritional needs.¡± Thacea¡¯s features shifted from palpable worry, to genuine concern at that statement, darkening to a point that conveyed everything I needed to know without even a word being uttered. ¡°I see.¡± She began, her tone matching that new degree of concern to a tee. ¡°And supposing it doesn¡¯t?¡± The avian managed out with a heavy breath. ¡°What happens then?¡± ¡°Well¡­ you can only pack so much nutripaste into the containers, especially when there¡¯s so much more gear needed for me to survive.¡± I replied nervously, beginning our walk towards our bedroom, and towards the boxes in question. ¡°And despite my people having practically a millennium of experience in dealing with similar sorts of situations, the limitations imposed by the Academy on the amount and volume of cargo allowed did pose a unique sort of challenge to my situation.¡± I quickly removed the cover to one of the crates, pointing to a pretty hefty sum of efficiently sealed and packaged nutripaste tubes. Each of which were packaged so tightly that it was difficult to separate one from the other without their distinct little hermetically sealed caps. ¡°As a result, despite the generous amount of rations provided courtesy of my people, my supplies are still finite. The mission had always been to supplement, and eventually wean myself off of the rations and into local foodstuffs; provided of course they were deemed sufficiently safe. But supposing it doesn¡¯t work out? Either due to some nutritional deficiency, or the existence of some fundamental biological, chemical, radiological, and physical hazards that might violate the Hazard Analysis and Risk Preventative Protocols (HARPP)? Well, in that case¡­¡± I paused, shifting my tone to match that of Thacea¡¯s. ¡°... I starve.¡± A look of complete and utter shock took over the princess¡¯ expression, her rising crest feathers prompting me to quickly shift my direction on a dime at that little goof. ¡°I¡¯m just kidding, Thacea.¡± I offered through a mischievous grin, one that the avinor princess clearly wasn¡¯t reciprocating, and for good reason at that. ¡°In all seriousness, that¡¯s why they packed me this.¡± I gestured towards another crate that was currently lodged halfway inside of the decontamination chamber. ¡°Or rather, when it¡¯s done and fully assembled inside, it¡¯s supposed to resemble this.¡± I gestured towards my forearm¡¯s embedded tablet, as a small little projection of an upright and see-through rectangular box, held together with plastic fittings, rotated on its central axis; as if it was being presented in one of those forever-open online stores by a forever-online presenter during the height of the corpo era. ¡°It¡¯s a specially retrofitted and designed high-density aquaponics unit meant to maximize caloric output. Basically, it¡¯s designed to grow specially engineered and bred forms of nutrient-dense algae, capable of being processed into more nutripaste!¡± I announced brightly. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Though that brightness clearly wasn¡¯t reciprocated by Thacea, as the holographic animation continued to show the contents of the see-through tower growing greener and greener, until finally, a thick slurry of green sludge dominated the entirety of its confines. This was quickly followed up by a cut-away animation, as the uneven goopy green slurry was forcibly pushed through its inner workings, going through process after eldritch process, before emerging out the other side inside of a nutripaste container. It then finally completed its journey as a cartoonish suit of armor walked over to grab the gray pouch with an anachronistic smile plastered on its helmet. It was around the same time that a look of utter disgust formed on Thacea¡¯s face, that the reality of the situation also quickly dawned on me. The worst case scenario had elevated me from starving, sure. But not by much. Because subsistence on Super Algae Nutripaste, was going to suck even more than subsistence on the regular, factory-made nutripaste, that at least had decent artificial flavorings in them. ¡°Algae¡­¡± Thacea finally muttered out with a look of complete and utter disgust-ridden horror. ¡°I¡­ I believe that¡¯s what is fed to some of our shellfish farms along the Flockston coast, and in certain cases, luminous dyes and fisher¡¯s ink.¡± She attempted to come to terms with it by at least demonstrating her familiarity with the stuff. Though, the fact that she knew it only as animal-feed and coloring probably wasn¡¯t doing my case any favors. ¡°Erm¡­ yeah, well, hey! If it¡¯ll help you sleep better at night, just know that this definitely isn¡¯t what my people eat on a regular basis, if at all nowadays.¡± I managed out with yet another awkward chuckle. ¡°I will take your word for it, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged through a forced smile. ¡°I¡­ am just happy to hear that you will have an alternative means of sustenance provided these Em-Red experiments do not go as planned.¡± ¡°Listen, Thacea, this solution is not ideal. Like, at all. If I had more space, the team back at the IAS could probably whip up a full hydroponics suite with a proper range of crops and such. However, given the space constraints, we had to pull out a very, very undesirable piece of tech that we¡¯d more or less moved beyond for like a good few centuries now. Considering our logistics and food security measures, stuff like this isn¡¯t even a thing in the military anymore, let alone the civilian sector. However, given I¡¯m the brave pioneer, I more or less was stuck with this as my only option. So¡­ I guess that¡¯s just one of the many downsides that come with being an explorer. Though, honestly, I¡¯d say it¡¯s still worth it. Because otherwise, I wouldn¡¯t have gotten to meet you of all people, Thacea!¡± I beamed out, that latter statement prompting Thacea¡¯s expression to finally shift once more to that worried, yet somewhat flustered look she sometimes had in these little talks. ¡°And erm, hey, even if it doesn¡¯t work out, the original factory-made nutripaste is going to last for a decent amount of time if I swap it and cycle it between the algae-paste. So it isn¡¯t too bad!¡± I urged Thacea towards the container full of nutripaste tubes, pulling a few out to demonstrate my point. ¡°We got flavors like Shredded BBQ Beef, Braised Lamb Shanks, Salmon Pesto, Meatball Marinara, Chicken Phanaeng Curry, Chicken Adobo, Nasi Lemak, Fish Ball Green Curry, Chicken Pad Krapaow, Teriyaki Chicken, and like two or three tofu or veggie options here. However, the thing that really kills it isn¡¯t the flavor itself. That aspect of it is fine. The thing that really kills it is the texture, because it¡¯s all the same squishy applesauce-like consistency that just irks the heck out of me.¡± Thacea¡¯s eyes seemed to be fixated on one, then another, then another tube as I lifted about ten between my fingers for her to see. She opened her beak to respond, but what she said wasn¡¯t what I had at all expected. ¡°These are all¡­ meat-based foods?¡± I paused, cocking my head in confusion before nodding. ¡°Well, yes. Wait. Oh. Oh! Did you assume that my kind exclusively ate puree¡¯d algae or something?¡± ¡°Not necessarily.¡± The Avinor replied with a polite nod. ¡°Your prior comments on your interest in local Nexian dishes implies that you do have the capability to appreciate foods that are¡­ more appetizing to both the eye and the palate. Moreover, my curiosities were less to do with the inherent aspects of your dietary preferences, but more so the socio-economic implications of it.¡± ¡°Go on?¡± I urged, not quite expecting this turnaround. ¡°From what I saw of your people, the artificed farms within that sight-seer, I can understand that grains as well as produce could be produced en masse. But¡­ and this is no offense to you Emma, but as a commoner? In a mana-less realm no less, is meat really that plentiful as your roster of rations imply?¡± The avinor began, before quickly correcting herself just as those words left her beak. ¡°My apologies, Emma. I meant to refer to your¡­ citizenry, rather than your commoners. A distinction that you made clear during your sight-seer presentation.¡± ¡°Oh, yeah. I can definitely see where you¡¯re coming from.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°I imagine that isn¡¯t the case for most ¡®commoners¡¯ within the adjacent realms and such?¡± ¡°Not unless you¡¯re in a particularly mana-rich world that allows for Nexian methods of livestock rearing that increases yields.¡± The princess offered, providing something of a fascinating insight into an aspect of the world I definitely wasn¡¯t anticipating touching upon today. ¡°To provide some context, in many adjacent realms barring those richest in mana, most commoners make do with a diet only partially consisting of meats and at times sparingly at that; primarily due to economic and ecological constraints. Your rations however, seem to imply a meat-heavy diet, which posits the question ¡ª just how common are meat-heavy diets in your realm? Indeed, with your society consisting only of citizens, of equals, is it truly possible to maintain the diet of a wealthy merchant or a minor noble across the breadth of an entire population?¡± ¡°Well, long story short Thacea, the answer to that question is yes. Though, historically, that hasn¡¯t always been the case. It was only after the advent of a lot of tech that allowed for meat to be truly available in such quantities that it became a true staple across the board. Moreover, with the Protocols for the Minimum Acceptable Standards of Living and a lot of other laws regarding this, it¡¯s honestly just become an expected part of every-day living.¡± The princess paused for a moment, as if going deep into thought at that. ¡°And by staple, do you mean to say that meat is as much an afterthought as bread is to the typical commoner?¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s going to be complicated to compare our relative standards of living but¡­ meat definitely isn¡¯t even an afterthought, it¡¯s sort of expected. Heck, you could have steaks everyday if you wanted to; not that I recommend it of course. Like, it¡¯s part of a person¡¯s annually allotted Requisition Units.¡± I offered, prompting an even more quizzical look to form on the princess¡¯ features than anything. ¡°Basically, it¡¯s a universal right alongside a lot of other basic necessities like guaranteed housing, public services and amenities and-¡± I paused, realizing I was going down another rabbit hole that really shouldn¡¯t be gone down, at least not if we wanted to get anything done tonight. ¡°-anyways, yeah, maybe we can talk about this after the experiment?¡± ¡°Of course, Emma.¡± Thacea responded curtly, her eyes betraying just how deep in thought she was at this point. ¡°Anyways speaking of meat! Honestly, I can¡¯t wait to see if I can get some meats inside that M-REDD. But erm, given the HARPP protocols, meats and other animal-based foodstuffs are going to need much more in the way of proper nutritional and food science-based studies to confirm whether or not they¡¯re edible. Which means a lot more time before I finally get to take a bite out of whatever it is your equivalent of A5 Wagyu is over here.¡± I chuckled, before continuing on into a sigh. ¡°It¡¯s a whole thing the scientists back at home have mapped out, going from simple foods with minimal potential adverse interactions with our biologies, to more complex foods that would increase the potential for an adverse reaction.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Thacea nodded thoughtfully. ¡°So in lieu of detection spells and other such means of magic-based tests, you have to ¡ª and I regret taking a word out of Ilunor¡¯s vernacular ¡ª take a roundabout method to reaching the same ends?¡± ¡°I guess you could put it that way.¡± I shrugged. ¡°But it¡¯s a way that anyone can use, not just magic users.¡± ¡°Requiring complex artifices and equipment, no doubt.¡± Thacea argued, providing a rare bit of pushback that did make constructive sense. ¡°Similar to whatever machinations you need to facilitate these non-magical means of augmenting livestock yields.¡± ¡°More or less.¡± I nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°Which, again, is exactly why my people are so on board with not seeing civilization collapse, because these tools, methods, equipment, and anything and everything in between more or less hinges on a healthy and alive civilization to continue what it is we¡¯re doing.¡± I offered, more or less circling back to the start of the conversation, prompting Thacea to nod with a respectful look of acknowledgement. ¡°I appreciate the candidness and consistency in your reasoning, Emma.¡± Thacea responded, before shifting her gaze back towards the food cart, and the tent. ¡°With that being said-¡± She paused once more, pointing at a flatbread dish complete with an assortment of fruits and vegetables. ¡°-I assume that these would be acceptable to start with?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded. ¡°They very much will be.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Galnistria¡¯s Tower. The Grand Gymnasium. Local Time: 20:00 Hours. Thalmin It was refreshing, to finally be alone again after an entire week of what amounted to a back to back to back series of misadventures culminating in a series of reality-altering experiences that rattled me to my very core. Indeed, there had been lulls in the action, breaks in the adventures, and in fact periods where the boisterous spirit of leisure finally did take hold. However, those moments were always had in the midst of those that I was quickly coming to call my allies. And as a result, those moments were very much still taxing on a mind that desperately needed peace, not leisure. It was at times like these that I very much appreciated the ¡®civilized¡¯ Nexian reluctance to physical activity. As unlike the gymnasiums back home, which were almost always guaranteed to be occupied by at least a handful of occupants in the case of the castle¡¯s gymnasium, and an entire sub-district¡¯s worth of lupinors in the public gymnasiums, here, in the Nexus? I could count a grand total of one. That one being me. In fact, the more I went about my business within the gymnasium¡¯s facilities, the less I saw any evidence of any of the equipment or amenities having been used. Now, perhaps that was simply due to the efficiency of the cleaning staff. But more likely, I knew the place was more or less abandoned by the entirety of the student body. Which was honestly nothing short of heaven in my eyes, as I began strutting about the smooth tile floors with a confident swagger, entering into my own sort of trance as I went about the same routines I usually did back home. Except this time, with an even greater sense of power behind me, courtesy of the rich and dense manastrams that felt practically limitless compared to what it was back home. The marble tile floors were a strange but understandable choice, as the space was after all dominated by a large swimming pool that took up much of the available area. Around it, and nearest to the front entrance, were more devices I was familiar with, such as complex artifices designed to allow the user to lift, pull, push, and float. These were all made possible by anachronisms of oars and barbells that were adorned with a variety of embellishments so as to hide the fact that they resembled tools and activities the peasantry might perform, and something that a highborn would otherwise shy away from like a snow worm to hot sand. So after inspecting each and every piece of equipment with great fascination, admiring the craftsmanship, ignoring the fact that Nexian hands had crafted these tools¡­ I soon summoned for a change of clothes with a small burst of magic, replacing the armor and ornate fineries I had on, with something more practical for the occasion. Which soon enough, was put to good use, as my eyes honed in on the largest tool for physical training in the room, and immediately leaped into it with a resounding SPLASH! The feeling of that refreshingly cool water, which to other species might seem downright hellish, was nothing short of a paradise for the senses on my hot and aching body. A body that now channeled every ounce of that frustration, that tiredness, that pent up energy, into an act that I¡¯d always relished ¡ª swimming. The rush of energy that coursed through my whole body was enhanced by the use of ambient mana around me, as I pushed, pushed and pushed harder than I ever could back at home. This was one of the few rare boons of being here in the Nexus. And this was what was pumping all sorts of good feelings into my head, as with each harsh exertion, came the reward of physical accomplishment. It might¡¯ve been alien to Nexian sensibilities, but it felt good for the lupinor inside me. This continued until I had lost track of time and I began taking the occasional dive back and forth between the surface and the bottom of the pool; as I savored in the silence and serenity of the prolonged dives. It was strangely therapeutic, almost akin to meditation, with the world around me dulled by the depths of the calm and unmoving water. Indeed, I would have continued testing the limits of my breath, if not for my manafields detecting the presence of someone else entering the room, making their way towards the lip of the pool. This fact alone was enough to cause me to resurface. But the ensuing surge, crackle, and ripple of mana that followed suit, prompted me to outright hasten that journey. I immediately swam up, and with a purposeful mana-aided kick of my legs, was poised to leap right out through the calm surface of the water- -only to feel my head slamming against a barrier that should not be there. I recoiled in pain, almost exhaling the contents of my lungs in a fit of pained grunts. Confusion took hold, as I stared up expecting to see a barrier¡­ instead being met with clear and calm waters. This prompted me to immediately reach up, towards the lip of where the water met the floor, but instead of the desperate limb emerging through the clear surface¡­ it instead met a smooth, uncompromising, and seamless invisible barrier. Moreover, I could see the water sloshing against this invisible glass-like enclosure. My eyes grew wide, as I took a hard slam against the barrier with both of my fists, only for the glass to respond with an uncompromising thunk. My heart began racing as my world slowed to a crawl. My legs began treading the water with increasing frenzy until finally, that momentary panic shifted into steeled resolve. My training crept up, supplanting the panic and confusion with only one singular task in mind- -getting out. Chapter 77: Please Dont Tap the Glass THUNK!! I slammed both of my fists hard against the barrier. THUNK!! Its surface remained unyielding, unshaking, completely still and deaf to my plight. THUNK!! My mind struggled against the panic that ate and nibbled away at the corners of my consciousness. THUNK!! My eyes darted back and forth across the entirety of the surface of the pool, all in a desperate attempt at finding any signs of weakness, any signs of vulnerability within this gods-forsaken spell. Any signs of a potential way out. THUNK!! My muscles began to ache. THUNK!! My lungs began to burn. THUNK!! My hands scrambled across the smooth and tantalizing fragile underside of the barrier. Those fists continued their relentless assault against the offending obstacle. THUNK!! Until finally, it clicked. As in a moment of unexpected clarity, I saw it ¡ª waves. My struggles had managed to cause the formerly calm and still waters to slosh around just enough for waves to form on the surface. That was when it dawned on me. The barrier wasn¡¯t flush against the surface of the pool. It couldn¡¯t be, if that much water was allowed to slosh beneath its unyielding blockade. Which meant there was an air pocket, or at least, small instances of them between the sloshing of large enough waves. And so I forced myself up, kicking my legs calmly, just enough to keep me afloat, before poking my nose through what was effectively barely an inch of headroom between the barrier and the water. I inhaled a massive lungful of air, through a waterlogged nose, and in a space just barely enough for me to do so. Which was a struggle, both physically, and mentally. As it took every ounce of my mental fortitude, my training, my forced calmness not to gasp for air with my mouth. That would¡¯ve spelled assured death. Those lungfuls of air, and a newly clarified mind, was enough for me to notice one of two things. One, being the finer details within the manastreams, and several inlets and outflows of those streams I could use to my advantage. The assailant in question was good, but still a novice at keeping his spell integrity clean. Two, being the nature of the assailant themselves. Or rather, himself. As I could just about make out the outlines, and then the full form in vivid detail, of the perpetrator in question. A steely gaze and a barely restrained snarl were my instinctive reactions to the cocksure bull. These pointed reactions were met with a despicable grin, but without the manafield inflexions I would¡¯ve expected of him. Another stone in the current of mana seemed to pull the bull from his gloating however, as I felt the distinct presence of someone else arriving on scene. The arrival of this interloper seemed to stir a look of annoyance on the bull¡¯s features, as he gave me one final snarl, and an uncharacteristic glare of worry, before leaving to deal with the newcomer to the scene; removing himself from my line of sight and towards the new arrival. But I could care less about that right now, as my mind switched to focusing on that first point, prompting me to take another, final, lungful of air, before submerging and darting across to the other side of the pool. This was where the spell¡¯s weakest point was. And this was where I¡¯d make my final gambit. I dove back down, against my instincts, to the deepest section of the pool. Then, I closed my eyes, focusing on siphoning the rich and latent streams around me. Before finally¡ª Whiiiiirrrrrrr¡­ KA-CRACK!!! ¡ªUnleashing it all in a concentrated beam of mana. A feat that would¡¯ve been utterly blinding to the manasenses, that shattered the invisible barrier that kept me prisoner, and that resulted in the water itself to shoot out in a massive jet of highly-compressed streams that chipped and cracked the fresco lining the dome above me. This massive glut of water quickly came crashing down almost immediately after, utterly crushing the seats closest to that side of the pool, flattening it under its weight and eviscerating it as a result of the haphazard magical after effects that came naturally as a result of this barely-regulated channel-then-release form of brute-force magic. A magic that would¡¯ve probably barely made a dent on the same barrier back at home. But that here? In the Nexus? Was practically supercharged. I found myself standing at the bottom of the pool now. Not because of any intent to remain underwater. But simply because there was no water to be had at the bottom at this point. As almost every last drop was now scattered across the gymnasium and perhaps even down the hallway given the sheer volume that¡¯d been displaced. Everything in my body told me to lay down and rest, as my chest heaved, hungrily taking in the fresh air around me. My instincts screamed at me to stop, especially after an entire workout, a near-drowning, and what amounted to the casting of a powerful spell. But I didn¡¯t. What fueled me now was a newfound rage that caused me to not only stand there in defiance, but that also compelled me to take the next appropriate step. Counterattacking, and dealing with the assailant. Without warning, and without any hint of intent, I crouched¡­ then leaped out of the twenty foot swimming pool, crossing my right arm across my chest and calling upon my dagger in one fell swoop, before landing well past the lip of the pool with my blade fully drawn into that of a greatsword. It was there, with the blood of battle coursing through my veins, and the breath of rage wailing against my lungs, that I was met with the bull; who was standing cowardly down the hall, poised to leave. We locked eyes once more. This time, on completely different playing fields. No longer did he maintain that look of unbridled cockiness, or a sense of superiority. Instead, there was fear within those eyes. And a manafield that felt clouded and shrouded, as if he was hiding and masking those feelings beneath that layered shell. A second passed. Then, I ran. Four different spells were cast in rapid succession. The first, was an enhancement to my speed. The second, was an enhancement to my grip. The third, was an enhancement to my agility. And the fourth, was the most visible. An enhancement to my blade, as it burst into flames just before I struck the bull¡¯s side¡­ Only for it to be met with a resounding ¡ª CLANG!! ¡ª as the bull seemed to summon some form of armor throughout his entire form. But that didn¡¯t deter me. In fact, the defensive posture, and the fear in his eyes was the panacea to the humiliation incurred upon me. In short, it only fanned the flames of my response. As I began striking harder, faster, and bolder. CLASH! Again. CLANK! And again. CLANG! And again. Until finally¡­ CRRSHHHH! The curved manasteel of his breastplate gave way to a hard bash from my pommel, forcing the bull back, where he staggered and heaved. We both stood there now, tired and breathless. The fuel that was rage started to wane somewhat. But it was clear in spite of that, the blow I landed on the beast was significant enough to leave him still on the defensive; something that surprised yet irked me to no end. ¡°Well?!¡± I shouted at the top of my lungs. ¡°ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED, RUNT?!¡± I yelled even louder, my voice resonated deep with its enhancement via latent mana. The bull didn¡¯t reply, not even with some empty platitudes of peace or a denial of the whole situation. In fact, all he did was to begin channeling even more mana, moving into a fighting stance befitting of his superior size, but not so much to his species¡¯ natural advantage. ¡°Let¡¯s finish this like men, you petulant beast!¡± I all but snarled out, keeping my sword trained, and my posture ready. Ping made the first move. But that move wasn¡¯t all what I¡¯d expected. As a sharp disruption in the manafield caused both my manasight and my eyes to become blinded by a headache-inducing light, and a loud high-pitched nausea-inducing sound. This took me completely off-guard, prompting me to swing wildly towards the offending party¡ª Only for that strike to simply bounce off of the wall behind him with a resonant CLANG! It took a few more moments for my senses to fully recover, and by the time it did, I was left with nothing. Nothing but a door that had been left hastily ajar, and what appeared to be bootprints that ran through and down the hall towards the main stairwell. The dishonorable thing had escaped. I couldn¡¯t help but to feel conflicted following that, as my sword continued to remain raised, and my body poised for another attack. It was the battle-blood that still ran through me, that refused to let me rest. In fact, the sudden and abrupt end to the battle had more or less exacerbated this feeling of restlessness. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. As it was one thing to have an enemy die or surrender¡­ it was another thing entirely to have them retreat; even if there was an assurance of victory. Because there was a sense of assurance when it came to death or surrender. You knew for a fact that the enemy had been properly dealt with. Dead or in chains, there was peace with knowing they were neutralized. Retreat, and a successful one at that, left me uneasy and tense with worry. It was a feeling that was¡­ difficult to truly work through. And it was a feeling that had in many instances left me feeling hollow. Still, it was a feeling that my father had oftentimes helped to frame as one thing only ¡ª dishonor. And the shame that would come from that, would hurt more than the most chronic of injuries, or the most disastrous of wounds. For dishonor, and cowardly dishonor at that, was the heart-maimer. It might start small, but eventually, any warrior worth their name will succumb to its effects. Auris Ping might¡¯ve gotten away with a few superficial injuries. But it¡¯s the injury of his actions that will eat at him from this point onwards. At least, that was what I was attempting to placate myself with as I moved to lower my sword, before transforming it back into its resting dagger-sized state. It was around this time, as the battle-blood induced vitriol was cresting its peak, and as my body began to step down from that heightened battle-ready state, that I finally took note of a series of noises from within the gymnasium proper. It was almost assuredly from the unknown interloper, who I¡¯d myopically overlooked as a result of the rage-fueled retribution. So without sheathing my blade, I began walking down the hallway towards the now-soaked room that was the gymnasium; towards what appeared to be another student and one that took me only a few seconds to recognize. It was one of Qiv Ratom¡¯s peers. The small rodent-like creature struggled to stand on both of his legs, as if still dazed and recovering from the massive downpour of water, or perhaps some other injury if that bruised arm was anything to go by. ¡°Prince Havenbrock?¡± The small, hamster-like thing, barely half a head taller than Ilunor, spoke with a polite, cordial, and strangely affable tone of voice. One that was at complete odds with the usual terseness of most of the student body upon encountering me on a good day. Which was nothing to say of me in my battle-ready state. ¡°A-are¡­ are you quite alright?¡± He continued, the nervousness was palpable not just through his tone of voice, but by the obvious stressors in his manafield, and the smell of anxiety that was difficult to control to anyone not of lupinor heritage. ¡°Do you require any healing assistance?¡± He quickly added with a sense of concern. Whether it was genuine or not, was anyone¡¯s guess at this point. ¡°I¡¯m alright.¡± I managed out, or rather, huffed out in a fit of exhaustion. ¡°I appreciate the offer though, Prince¡­¡± I paused, realizing now that outside of Qiv and Airit, the two others in their peer group were practically enigmas to me. I blamed this not on myself or my reluctance to associate with the rest of the student body, but on the circumstances that prevented our group from truly integrating into the year group proper. ¡°I am afraid I haven¡¯t quite caught your name yet.¡± I admitted politely; desperately trying to claw myself back to civility. ¡°Ah! That¡¯s quite alright! It¡¯s certainly more than justifiable given¡­¡± The orange and white-furred being paused, gesturing around him. ¡°...the recent circumstances. It would be entirely unfair of me to expect you to remember my name when we haven¡¯t even been properly introduced, my dear fellow!¡± It was around this point that the strangely dressed prince took a deep bow, almost befitting of Ilunor¡¯s more theatrical tendencies. ¡°I am Prince Rostario Rostarion the XXI, son of His Benevolence King Rostario Rostarion the XX, Herald of the Nine Rivers, Beholder of the Writ of Transitions, and tenth in line for the throne of the Crita.¡± He spoke in an almost whimsical manner, straddling the line between the overzealousness of Ilunor¡¯s propensity for noble norms, and a more idealistic interpretation of Expectant Decorum. ¡°A pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, Prince Rostario Rostarion the XXI.¡± I spoke politely, matching the Crita¡¯s bow, and holding it for just as long. ¡°I just wished it had been under more¡­ auspicious circumstances.¡± ¡°Oh nonsense! As we say in our realm, any day we meet a friend is a good day!¡± He beamed out, maintaining that smile throughout it all. ¡°As a matter of fact, I doubt there¡¯s ever such a thing as an unfavorable day to meet a friend. Which, once again, given recent happenings, may be as much a matter of courtesy as it is a matter of practicality.¡± Those latter words set off a few alarm bells in my head, which prompted me to address him now with less pleasantries and more in the way of practical matters. ¡°If I may ask, Prince Rostarion¡­ what exactly are you doing here?¡± The small thing blinked rapidly at that question. ¡°Well, to be entirely honest Prince Havenbrock, I was here for perhaps the exact same reasons you were here.¡± I looked the rodent-like prince up and down, noting his¡­ less than typical attire, one that most certainly did not forego typical Nexian sensibilities as my own outfit had done, but that was definitely not your typical dinner attire. ¡°I mean no disrespect when I ask you this, Prince Rostarion, but would you genuinely have me believe that you were here to utilize the gymnasium¡¯s facilities?¡± ¡°That is exactly what I am implying, Prince Havenbrock.¡± The little thing nodded with a smile. ¡°However, I wasn¡¯t necessarily intending to utilize it in the manner in which you perhaps assume.¡± He finished that sentence off by gesturing to a pile of now-ruined flotation artifices of some rubbery consistency. One resembling a round pastry, one resembling an ottoman, and another being a container that he quickly opened to reveal a deluge of snacks and beverages. ¡°I was intending on using the pool for aquatic therapy, if you understand my meaning.¡± There was a pause as I needed a moment to connect the dots. ¡°So, you were here, to simply lounge atop of the pool.¡± I concluded. ¡°A bit eccentric and skirting the line of expectant decorum, but it is one of my lesser known pastimes, yes.¡± The prince admitted with what I could only describe as an open look of abashment, one that when paired with his puffy fur, and harmless disposition, put me in mind of what Emma must have seen and felt with the foxes of the library. ¡°Of course.¡± I acknowledged with a nod. ¡°And I am assuming that this pastime of yours was rudely interrupted when you arrived and encountered-¡± ¡°That vile bull?¡± The Crita¡¯s features scrunched up, yet not once did I feel an ounce of threatening posture from the small creature, as even that attempt at a scowl looked more like a pup attempting to emulate a snarl. ¡°I had arrived just as he seemed to be busy casting some sort of a barrier spell above the pool. At first, I assumed this to be a sort of jab at my character, and so I confronted him about the indirect assault on my leisurely intent. However, no sooner did I realize the severity of the situation, did the bull push me to the wayside, right before you managed to break free of your undue entombment, or thereabouts.¡± The little thing paused, before shaking his ¡®head¡¯ from side to side. A remarkable feat, for it was difficult to tell where his head started and where his body ended given the puffy fur that ensconced him in an almost spherical shape. ¡°A truly sordid affair if I do say so myself, Prince Havenbrock.¡± He continued, meeting my gaze with that of a friendly, empathetic stranger. ¡°In any case, I wouldn¡¯t want to keep you here for much longer than necessary. This turn of events has been tiring enough for the both of us.¡± ¡°Indeed, this truly was unexpected, to say the least.¡± I responded plainly, lacking the energy to really engage with any of this more than I could at this point. Not a moment later did two disruptions in the manastream occur simultaneously, as it seemed as if we both had the same idea of quickly switching from our leisurely attire back into our regular clothes. ¡°I do hope you weren¡¯t hurt by the bull though.¡± I quickly added, my more courteous and civilized sensibilities returning to me now that the blood of battle had subsided from my veins. ¡°Oh, the vile thing merely pushed me. A truly despicable act of brutish savagery befitting of the common beast, but nothing that could hold a candle to the transgressions imposed upon you today, Prince Havenbrock.¡± The Crita replied politely, as we began making our way out and through the gymnasium¡¯s long corridor, and back towards the castle¡¯s winding pathways. ¡°In any case, it is¡­ comforting in a sense, Prince Thalmin ¡ª to have someone civilized to talk to following those brutish acts.¡± ¡°You flatter me, Prince Rostarion.¡± I replied reflexively. ¡°To be quite frank, I did have my reservations on the content of your character prior to this meeting. However, upon finally being acquainted, I can see now that those reservations were entirely baseless. It is clear that in this game of appearances, that the strong and self righteous can oftentimes overrule those who are genuine of heart. Today¡¯s events have, in a sense, served as an unwelcome but necessary wakeup call, one that validates my fears over Lord Ping, and invalidates my concerns over your character, Prince Havenbrock.¡± ¡°And what might those concerns over Lord Ping be?¡± I replied curtly, deciding to go along with his narrative, if only to hear him out. ¡°That Auris Ping may not be averse to brutish acts of subterfuge to undermine the peer groups he deems to be a threat to his ambitions. It¡¯s quite obvious to me the reasons why he went after you of all people.¡± The little thing paused, as if giving me a window to reply. Which I did. ¡°Go on?¡± ¡°Your newrealmer¡¯s little stunt on the last emergency assembly, Prince Havenbrock. The man was humiliated in front of the entire year group as a result. The newrealmer has essentially made an enemy out of him from there on out. There¡¯s now, effectively, a target painted on each and every one of your peer group¡¯s backs.¡± Rostario cautioned, prompting me to narrow my gaze on the otherwise harmless-looking hamster. ¡°I thank you for sharing your observations with me, Prince Rostarion¡­ but please, what point do you wish to make here?¡± ¡°The matter I wish to address, Prince Thalmin, is that the man has elevated himself from a nuisance to a palpable danger. And if he¡¯s willing to go to these lengths to correct for past slights, there¡¯s no telling what may happen as we push forwards through the year, especially following the house choosing ceremony coming up this weekend.¡± The little thing reasoned, before shifting his gaze to a more thoughtful and empathetic one. ¡°Seeing as my group has consistently occupied the top three positions in terms of points so far, it stands to reason that the bull¡¯s ire will soon be drawn to us. And whilst Lord Qiv Ratom is indeed a wise and capable leader, he is only one man, with three other peers to work with.¡± ¡°You¡¯re proposing an alliance, then?¡± I cut through the fat of the hamster¡¯s reply, prompting the man to, thankfully, nod in acknowledgement with no further pleasantries involved. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be so brazen as to call it an alliance outright, Prince Havenbrock. I moreso wish to make it clear that my own group harbors no ill sentiments towards your own, and will continue to do so, if only to ensure that we may at least live in peace whilst at war against this brutish menace. Alliances, and future agreements, can come later. Right now, I only wish to extend a hand of goodwill, nothing less.¡± It was around that point that we both paused at the foot of a set of stairs, marking the junction in which we needed to part ways. ¡°I will¡­ consider it, Prince Rostarion. If Auris Ping continues to play the role of a nuisance, and a dangerous one at that, it would be in the best interests of both of our two groups to maintain a working peace. Regardless, I sincerely hope the man does not prove to be a menace to you, as he was to me.¡± ¡°I appreciate the kind sentiments, Prince Havenbrock.¡± He nodded, right before we parted ways.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 23:20 Hours. Thalmin I arrived at an eerily dead dormitory once more, the lights within the public spaces acknowledging my presence with a tastefully choreographed glow. I hesitated for a moment as I walked past Emma and Thacea¡¯s room, considering whether or not the matter of Ping should be best reserved for the morning, or if it was prudent to address it now. This hesitation lasted a few moments, before I started noticing a distinct string of conversations from within, answering my concerns of whether the pair were still awake.
¡°Sorry for saying this Thacea, and I¡¯m not implying that you are but¡­ could you be careful with your talons. I¡¯m afraid it¡¯ll-¡± ¡°I assure you, Emma. Your instructions were extensive and your demonstrations were in-depth enough for me to handle this aspect of the operation.¡±
I took that opportunity to knock on the door, leading to a series of hurried footsteps towards it. And as the door opened, I noted a distinct lack of Emma, prompting me to put two and two together. ¡°I apologize if I¡¯m interrupting anything.¡± I announced. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you two are in the middle of your em-redd experiments?¡± ¡°That is correct, Thalmin.¡± Thacea nodded. ¡°Ah, well, maybe we can talk about this another time-¡± ¡°No, no. If there¡¯s something urgent, it is best to state it outright.¡± I let out another sigh, before I leveled my eyes once more, preparing for the long winded explanation ahead. ¡­ Twenty-five Minutes Later ¡­ The reactions from Thacea, and even Ilunor, were practically about what I expected. With a measured and appropriately sympathetic look of concern from the former, and a somewhat amused yet annoyed look of acknowledgement from the latter. It was Emma however, who¡¯d exited the tent moments after I arrived, that truly gave me pause for thought. It was, naturally, difficult if not impossible to read the earthrealmer¡¯s reactions. Her armor served as a barrier not only for the features most readily readable to the average observer, but also to the most seasoned of conversationalists, as everything from her facial features through to her nonexistent manafield were blocked. The only thing that anyone could truly work off of, was her speaking mannerisms, and what feeble attempts at exaggerated body language she could muster through sheer will and determination; and even those were encumbered. Yet despite that, and all the encumbrances involved, I could feel the palpable shock and outright rage that seethed within her. As I could only imagine the features of a lupinor with little to no reservations on maintaining the guise of civility, snarling beneath that helmet of hers. ¡°Thalmin.¡± Emma continued, restructuring her response, in a tone of voice that struck a certain chord within me. ¡°Let me ask you this again. Did he hurt you?¡± ¡°I am unharmed, Emma.¡± I responded immediately. ¡°Good.¡± The armored earthrealmer responded compassionately, before effortlessly returning to that seething and outraged persona. ¡°Because if that walking prime rib dinner had done anything¡­¡± She paused, as if taking the time to ponder all the possible means of violence at her disposal¡­ But instead of saying anything outright, she instead remained silent. That silence, and a lack of any definitive threat, spoke louder than any descriptive rant ever could. Moreover, the sheer emotion behind her voice prior to that ominous silence was enough to compensate for all of her armor¡¯s encumberances, and then some. A fact that resonated deeply with the lupinor within me. As unlike the Nexian propensity for layering intent beneath decorum, Emma seemed poised to simply make herself known when she needed to. ¡°I¡­ appreciate those sentiments, Emma.¡± I acknowledged with a deep nod. ¡°But I believe the fact I managed to defeat him in combat, or at least, prompted him to flee like a complete coward; is proof enough I can handle myself. Though¡­ I am certainly not averse to a brother or sister in arms to join in the fray.¡± This seemed to lighten Emma¡¯s spirits somewhat, as she placed a hand on my shoulder, shaking it about. ¡°This begs the question¡­¡± Thacea finally interjected, after a few moments of deep and serious thought. ¡°What could be Ping¡¯s true gambit here?¡± ¡°To posture and potentially send a message? Like a thug or a bully I guess?¡± Emma offered. ¡°The fact remains we don¡¯t necessarily know how far he would¡¯ve taken this, a fact which would very much define, or redefine the intent behind this attack.¡± Thacea countered, prompting me to reply in no uncertain terms. ¡°Believe me, Thacea. If you were there, you¡¯d know he was serious in his intent.¡± ¡°I do not discount the traumatizing events, Thalmin. I¡­ simply wish to ascertain just what his angle is. Because from my vantage point, this attack seems brazenly-¡± ¡°-idiotic.¡± Ilunor chimed in. Prompting the avinor princess to simply dip her head in acknowledgement. ¡°-foolish, but that is likewise an appropriate descriptor.¡± ¡°Maybe he is just that dumb?¡± Emma offered up once more. ¡°He¡¯s hot-headed, and clearly angry from the whole library card incident. So maybe just like any other hot-headed bully, he¡¯s going after the ones he thinks he can handle, alone, and without backup.¡± ¡°I could see that.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°The simplest answers are sometimes the ones that turn out to be true.¡± Thacea acknowledged. ¡°However, given the complexities of the Nexus, we shouldn¡¯t discount more elaborate possibilities.¡± ¡°Mal¡¯tory.¡± Ilunor suddenly blurted out darkly. ¡°It¡¯s his class tomorrow, isn¡¯t it? And the Academy isn¡¯t suspending his classes either. Now, this may seem improbable, if not outright impossible¡­ but I believe the lack of any changes to the academic roster means that whatever damage you inflicted on him, Emma¡­ could not have been enough to kill him outright; at least not permanently. Which means that maybe, just maybe, he recovered sometime today, and has recruited Auris to his own aims.¡± That theory hit me hard, prompting me to turn towards Emma with a worried expression. The silence from the otherwise chatty earthrealmer was enough to clue me in to her state of mind. And the anxiety welling within her, especially when it came to what was up ahead tomorrow. ¡°That¡¯s a possibility.¡± Thacea acknowledged. ¡°Perhaps, in light of you becoming an intrinsic aspect of the library¡¯s games, Ilunor ¡ª you¡¯ve effectively become immune to the man¡¯s machinations. Thus, Mal¡¯tory is now looking to target either me or Thalmin, in order to replace us with a more pliant student.¡± ¡°We won¡¯t know anything, nor can we come to any conclusions.¡± Emma finally interjected. ¡°But there¡¯s only one way to be sure, and only one way we can rule that possibility out.¡± The earthrealmer paused for a moment, making an attempt to crane her head to meet each of our gazes. ¡°We need to resume the library¡¯s mission as soon as we can, and we¡¯ll start by infiltrating his office.¡± ¡°After we assess the situation in tomorrow¡¯s classes.¡± Thacea urged. ¡°We will see, definitively then, the state of the man, and from there ¡ª we continue our quest against the black robed professor.¡± Chapter 78: I Wonder if Hes Still Mad Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Ilunor and Thalmin¡¯s Bedroom. Local Time: 00:10 Hours. Ilunor Anger was not an unknown color to the lupinor¡¯s palette of expressions. In fact, most of what I¡¯d known of the man had been a mix of anger, frustration, with a healthy dose of aggression mixed in when the odd shouting match erupted. Yet despite that, never had I known what true anger looked like until now. Never once was I privy to this particular side of the lupinor. And perhaps, it should have stayed that way. Not for my own sakes, but for the sake of the man I¡¯d hazard to call an acquaintance in any other instance, but in the wake of recent events¡­ had become something of a necessary ally within exterminating circumstances. ¡°Thalmin?¡± I spoke softly, taking a few tentative steps towards the man who sat there, gazing pensively out the bedroom¡¯s main window. ¡°Is there something you wish to speak about?¡± ¡°Now¡¯s not the best time for your nightly stories, Ilunor.¡± The man grumbled back, his tone carrying with it that same timbre of annoyance, but hiding beneath it a heavy and palpable burden. ¡°No, no. I wasn¡¯t about to regale you with another one of my many tales.¡± I stood there proudly, if only to uphold that facade that if it were to fall, would¡¯ve caused me a great degree of personal abashedness. I didn¡¯t want to admit what I was doing. Because it felt¡­ abnormal, almost alien, to offer up genuine empathy that wasn¡¯t merely empty platitudes or a rehearsed and well choreographed speech. It felt like I was offering as much of myself up, as the lupinor was. And I didn¡¯t like that feeling. Yet despite that, something within me urged me to continue. ¡°So what is it then? Go on, and stop beating around the bush.¡± The lupinor urged with another growl, an act that felt more defensive than typical posturing compared to our usual banter. ¡°I¡­ merely wished to inquire as to your well being.¡± I finally managed those words out, all but allowing them to emerge with any degree of the associated expectant decorum. This finally seemed to garner some form of a response within the lupinor, as he raised a brow at me quizzically, as if second-guessing exactly what he was hearing. ¡°Did Emma put you up to this?¡± He asked sternly. ¡°Because if she did, then tell her I appreciate her trying to tame your noble smugness, but that I don¡¯t need anyone to dig into my battles.¡± ¡°I find it somewhat telling that you would even consider Emma as being the impetus behind this earnest intent to express my¡­¡± I paused, taking a moment to cycle through my breaths. ¡°... genuine concerns. I am just as capable of empathy, despite any allusions to the contrary.¡± That response didn¡¯t seem to make a dent on the lupinor¡¯s otherwise stalwart and monolithic posture. A stare down quickly ensued, if only for a few moments, as his otherwise stoic features and that unyielding gaze soon finally cracked, if only slightly, with a well timed sigh. ¡°I am fine, Ilunor. I just simply need a moment to recollect my thoughts.¡± A pause soon followed, but not enough that it granted me the ability to respond just yet. ¡°I assume you haven¡¯t been on the precipice of death before, have you?¡± He added, almost out of nowhere, baffling me with exactly where this conversation could be headed. ¡°If you count the curse placed upon me by Mal¡¯tory and the near-death experience there, then yes. Yes I have been on the precipice of death before, Prince Thalmin.¡± I replied a-matter-of-factly. ¡°Allow me to rephrase.¡± The lupinor responded, shifting his entire body, bearing his gaze down on me. ¡°Prior to Mal¡¯tory. Have you or have you not been on the verge of death? Have you known with nearly absolute certainty that the breaths you¡¯re currently taking could be your last? That the thoughts currently running through your mind, may end as abruptly the cessation of a yantor¡¯s croak? That your legacy, following that one moment in time, was to end with your entire life amounting only to your actions up to that point?¡± I felt a genuine pang of nausea taking over, as my heart sank, and my whole body shivered in place. ¡°Perhaps not¡­ perhaps, the incident with Mal¡¯tory, was the closest I have truly been as you described, Thalmin.¡± I acknowledged slowly. ¡°Then allow me to give you some advice, Ilunor.¡± The lupinor somehow began shifting the momentum of the conversation towards me instead. As he wrestled the reins of this particular subject matter with a surprising degree of deftness and ease. ¡°The sorts of emotions we feel following such events¡­ they do not get better, at least not immediately. Over time, and given enough distractions, they will. Especially in the midst of those who have experienced similar trials and survived to tell the tale. What I am experiencing, and what you are no doubt also experiencing, will subside. That¡¯s all there is to it.¡± He paused for a moment, getting up from his seat, striding effortlessly towards the bathroom. ¡°I¡­ I do not see how this relevant to-¡± ¡°The only reason you¡¯re approaching me, and addressing this subject matter right now is because you¡¯re finally feeling something other than your typical daily drives to ceaselessly vapid talking points. Am I wrong?¡± Thalmin spoke bluntly, more or less seeing through my facade, or lack thereof at this point. ¡°You¡¯re basing your assumptions on a picture of an unfinished mosaic, Prince Thalmin.¡± I shot back indignantly. ¡°And exactly what parts am I missing?¡± He inquired with a quirk of his brow. I elected to answer that only with silence. ¡°I¡¯m only advising you out of practicality, Ilunor.¡± The lupinor finally filled in the silence with a sigh. ¡°I would rather have you be productive, and a contributing member of this group. To accomplish this, I wish to impart on you the same lessons I have faced in hardships you probably have never experienced. Which means addressing certain obstacles I foresee before they can manifest into something truly harmful; to you, and the rest of the group by extension. With that, I bid you goodnight.¡± With a soft clack of the door, I was once more left alone with my thoughts. As I began to question just why I¡¯d even felt that urge to address Thalmin in the first place. And whether or not¡­ it was truly a result of that rare sense of empathy, through not just shared experiences, but shared adversity. In a way, this was perhaps the first time I truly connected with the man on any level. As macabre as it might seem, this most visceral of similar experiences served to bridge a gap that I never once thought would need bridging. And I didn¡¯t know what to, or how to, feel about that.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Emma and Thacea¡¯s Bedroom. Local Time: 00:20 Hours. Emma Despite the constant distractions, and despite having disengaged from the outside world entirely by hopping back into my tent¡­ I couldn¡¯t help but to feel stuck in the perpetual, insidious, cycle of anxious thought. ¡°It¡¯s not possible, right?¡± I began, my heart thumping beneath my chest, and my expression stuck in a perpetual state of worry. ¡°He couldn¡¯t have made it. Thacea, I¡¯ve mentioned to you time and time again how he got hit point-blank with that explosion. An explosion that, mind you, blew up an entire warehouse! An explosion that literally caused the deaths of everyone else, even other magic users, and blew up a magical carriage for crying out loud!¡± I paused, sitting down on the fold-out chair and burying my face deep within both of my palms. ¡°He even got hit with a dragon¡¯s tail. A fricking dragon¡¯s tail, Thacea. I showed you the footage, didn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Indeed you have, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged, her voice crystal clear, despite being on the other side of the tent¡¯s lining; all thanks to the active-audio speakers strategically embedded into both the inside and the outside of the tent itself. ¡°And indeed, if it were perhaps anyone lesser, I could easily see death as an assurance. However-¡± The princess paused, shifting her chair closer towards the tent. ¡°-the position of a black robe isn¡¯t garnered through political acumen alone. There is a certain prerequisite of magical competence, one which is vetted through the privy council, and at times achieved through a challenge of magical supremacy. Whilst not truly living up to their title of planar mage, given how the bar to entry for such a title has been diluted over the years, the black robe position is still very much one that carries with it a truly staggering prerequisite of both magical potential and magical acumen.¡± The avinor pressed down a stray feather on her shoulder, breaking the monologue as if to break the tension of the whole situation. ¡°It stands to reason then, Emma, that the ill-fated Lord Lartia is leagues beneath Professor Mal¡¯tory. His death through your device during the warehouse incident was certainly assured. But Professor Mal¡¯tory? It¡¯s certainly possible, especially with the aid of the Academy¡¯s healers, that there could be a chance for recovery. Though, it remains to be seen just what kind of a state he returns in.¡± That latter statement was one that caught my attention the most, prompting me to zero in on it. ¡°You mean, like¡­ he could come back as a brain-in-a-jar or something?¡± Silence was my only answer for a few seconds, as I could only imagine Thacea¡¯s expressions of shock and perhaps utter confusion on the other side of the tent. ¡°That¡­ is a modality of living that is abhorrent and borderline taboo, Emma. This is especially true when there are a plethora of other life-extension or soul-preservation options available.¡± Thacea reasoned, before shifting gears somewhat. ¡°Is¡­ is that a common practice in your realm?¡± ¡°No, no. It¡¯s¡­ I mean¡­ I was just spitballing ideas. I guess what I meant to ask was this ¡ª exactly what sort of state is he going to return in? Are we talking about Sorecar¡¯s soulbound suit of armor? Or are we talking about a complete magical recovery like with the Apprentice and her crush injuries?¡± I offered, prompting Thacea to quickly move on after that point. ¡°I am unsure, Emma.¡± The princess acknowledged with a heavy breath. ¡°The extent of his injuries remain difficult to ascertain given the lack of manastreams in your manaless records. But regardless of the extent of said injuries, I am certain that his return will not be one of a spell-bound husk. With all due respect to Professor Sorecar and his current disposition, it is unlikely, barring some political maneuver within the privy council, that a spell-bound be allowed to maintain their black-robe position. Thus, considering there has been no news of Professor Mal¡¯tory¡¯s untimely termination, I believe the answer may prove to be closer to a recovery of the body and soul.¡± That response prompted me to once again let out a long and drawn out sigh. Exhaustion threatened to consume me, if not for the sharp pang of stress, anxiety, and utter apprehension that prevented me from thinking straight. ¡°Emma.¡± Thacea continued, her tone softer, and more personable now; as if switching gears upon realizing just what sort of a state I now found myself in. ¡°Whatever happens tomorrow, I am certain that there is nothing to fear from Professor Mal¡¯tory¡¯s class. I doubt any harm will come to you, or anyone else in the group for that matter, so long as we play our part and carry on our duties.¡± Those words¡­ quelled some of my concerns. Though not really. It wasn¡¯t like I was afraid of the class or what could happen. If anything, I was confident in the armor¡¯s ability to deal with him if push comes to shove. Moreover, if anything were to happen, I was quicker on the draw than the man was able to restrain me. Especially with the two weapons he¡¯s yet to see. No, the concern wasn¡¯t with any solid overt threats. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! It was with the unknown. Of exactly what would go down tomorrow, given there was a high likelihood he¡¯d be back in the flesh. I literally flopped to the ground as a result of all of these thoughts assaulting me at once, generating a solid thunk in the process, one that was probably far less dramatic than what it would¡¯ve otherwise sounded like if I were in full armor. ¡°Emma?¡± Thacea offered once more, her tone betraying her growing curiosity as to what was going on inside the tent. ¡°Are you¡­ quite alright in there?¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m alright.¡± I offered, simply taking a moment to just lay there, staring blankly at the canvas-like roofing above me with HUD-less eyes, and data-less vision. Offline mode was sometimes as jarring as it was necessary, especially after way too much time in the suit. ¡°I¡¯m just laying down.¡± I added lazily. A part of me wanted to grab my tablet, or my glasses, just to see Thacea¡¯s facial features throughout the conversation. The optical sensors and cameras lining the exterior of the tent gave me and the EVI a complete and unimpeded view of the world outside the tent after all. But I just couldn¡¯t. ¡°So¡­ about Thalmin.¡± I began, shifting away at least slightly from the Mal¡¯tory situation. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose we can report this to some higher authority or a disciplinary board or something? Like, I¡¯m guessing this could be the same issue with Ilunor when he was under Mal¡¯tory¡¯s employment right?¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± Thacea acknowledged. ¡°The disciplinary board is, even in typical circumstances, yet another tool in the grander game. It acts less as a force of punitive justice, and more so as a mechanism to be triggered upon your opponents.¡± ¡°But we have the evidence, don¡¯t we?¡± I offered. ¡°Thalmin¡¯s memories, just have him submit that as evidence. He doesn¡¯t have the same issues Ilunor did with his brain curse thing-¡° ¡°I¡¯m afraid the reality of the situation isn¡¯t that simple, Emma.¡± Thacea interjected. ¡°There is no guarantee that the disciplinary board will be conservative in their approach; thus no guarantee they wouldn¡¯t take cumulative memories outright for their own ends. I believe you understand why this would be an unacceptable risk for our group to take.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ I can see it.¡± I acknowledged with a heavy sigh. ¡°It¡¯d mean risking revealing our deals and plans with the library, our campaign against Mal¡¯tory, and anything and everything in between.¡± ¡°This is without even mentioning the negative repercussions incurred upon Thalmin himself. As his words of active sedition against the Nexus would be recorded and documented for posterity, something which would be an intolerable risk to his own security and standing within the greater game.¡± ¡°Right.¡± ¡°In any other circumstance, perhaps the risk may in fact outweigh the opportunity cost, but in our case Emma¡­ it most certainly does not.¡± ¡°And what if we ask them not to scan his brain? Like, just asking them to perform a good old-fashioned investigation?¡± ¡°Then they may very well escalate matters into requiring some form of scrying or divination, Emma.¡± Thacea responded a-matter-of-factly. ¡°Right¡­ so using the disciplinary system in any capacity to deal with situations like this is a no-go then.¡± ¡°Correct, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged with yet another nod. ¡°In any case.¡± She continued, as it was clear she was now trying to shift the conversation away from Mal¡¯tory, and towards something else. That something, turned out to be a series of three distinct beeps, courtesy of the M-REDD on my side of the tent. ¡°I believe it is time you finally ate something that isn¡¯t-¡± ¡°-animal feed?¡± I interjected snarkily. ¡°I was not intending to use such a deprecating descriptor Emma-¡± ¡°Nono, I was just making one of my jokes, is all..¡± I responded tactfully, before getting up and off of the cold hard canvas floors, my undersuit sticking to its surface for a bit. Opening up the M-REDD, I was greeted to a sight that was, perhaps for the first time¡­ at least not a complete disaster. But then again, the same could be argued for the disaster that was the foot long brioche-turned-crouton. So looks could be deceiving. Even when the foodstuffs in question looked eerily similar, if a bit discolored, from how it was outside the tent. Which meant there was only one way to truly determine its qualities. Consumption. But first¡­ I turned my eyes towards one of the many cameras, the eye tracking more or less figuring out what I meant immediately. ¡°External audio temporarily disabled, Cadet Booker. Your orders?¡± ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve done the appropriate food-safety tests as per HARPP protocols?¡± ¡°That is correct, Cadet Booker. All parameters are within acceptable limits. The system would have alerted you to potential risk factors if any were detected.¡± ¡°I know, I know, I¡¯m just double-checking, EVI.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Alright, external audio on.¡± I ordered, my gaze finally unlocking from the cameras as I turned my full attention to the contents within the M-REDD¡¯s airlock. ¡°Is everything to your liking, Emma?¡± Thacea asked warily, prompting me to reply as I took a closer inspection at everything within the platter of food. ¡°I haven¡¯t tried it yet, I¡¯m just¡­ observing how much it¡¯s changed first.¡± The platter was a simple affair, just a piece of flatbread, the same one Ilunor had used earlier in his¡­ ¡®demonstration¡¯, plated alongside a few slices of fresh fruits, vegetables, and a dip that reminded me of a cross between hummus and whipping cream. I¡¯d been reluctant to put the latter into the M-REDD, given how foods with greater density tended to take more time to desaturate. However, because of its airy, almost whipping-cream-like consistency, I thought it probably wouldn¡¯t hurt to try. Though, amongst the rest of the food that at least retained their shape, the fluffiness and airiness that had been observed before seemed to have suffered at the hands of the M-REDD, rendering its fluffy peaks into sad little puddles of semi-fluid, semi-cream like consistency. ¡°Alright so, bread looks the same, fruits look as if they¡¯ve all browned due to oxidation or something¡­ is that normal?¡± ¡°If it¡¯s browned in any capacity, then we would consider it completely unfit for consumption. However, I have heard that peasants do consider browned fruits to be safe to eat, Emma.¡± Thacea answered, before quickly correcting herself. ¡°Not that I am implying that you should be subjecting yourself to fruits of sub-par quality-¡° ¡°No, wait.¡± I interrupted, circumventing and thereby halting the princess¡¯ apologies. ¡°I have a theory. You said before how the food that¡¯s delivered to the dorms are like¡­ magically enchanted to retain their freshness, right?¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± ¡°The M-REDD just sucked all of the mana out of it. Is it possible that by doing so, the magic that was keeping it fresh has like-¡° ¡°-failed?¡± Thacea completed my sentence for me, her tone indicating that the hypothesis was piquing her interests as it was my own. ¡°Yeah.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°That is more than assured, Emma.¡± Thacea answered affirmatively. ¡°Right. And does¡­ four, five hours exposed to the air sound like the typical time at which fruits like these would begin to brown?¡± ¡°That¡­ is not something I am familiar with, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged, in perhaps one of the first instances she¡¯d actively demonstrated a hole in her otherwise encyclopedic knowledge. ¡°I figure that¡¯s the sort of stuff you¡¯re probably not exposed to much within the castle halls right?¡± I offered inquisitively. Thacea paused, as if pondering her answer, her features scrunching up in irritation on the monitor. ¡°Indeed. If you so wish, this is a matter that might best be answered by those who you may consider to be more worldly in such affairs.¡± It was at that point that I realized I¡¯d slipped up, as sarcasm of any sort from Thacea was definitely not normal. ¡°That came out wrong, I admit.¡± I acknowledged with an apologetic nod. ¡°I was just making an observation, Thacea. I wasn¡¯t implying anything by it. I¡¯m sorry if I caused offense.¡± The princess paused for a moment, before acknowledging that little backtrack with a nod of her own, following it up with a light chuckle. ¡°The audacity of you, a citizen-commoner, to make a slight of such audaciousness, will be duly noted.¡± ¡°Oh, so we¡¯re keeping a list now I see?¡± ¡°Perhaps, or perhaps not, but in any case¡­ I assume this conversation hasn¡¯t been an attempt to delay the inevitable?¡± The princess quickly added that last remark, in a way that felt almost sarcastic, like an attempt at my own snarky sense of humor. ¡°Of course not.¡± I replied confidently, before feeling that bout of confidence fade upon setting my sights on the platter of de-mana-ified food. ¡°Well, hey, there¡¯s only one way to see if this works.¡± I sighed, holding one of the browned slices of apples close to my mouth. ¡­ nomf¡­ To say that I was mildly surprised, would¡¯ve been half correct. To say that I was over the moon, and practically jumping for joy, would also be half correct. In a sense, I wanted to believe the experience of eating what was in effect a half-crispy, half-mushy browned and uncomfortably seasoned apple was a welcome departure from the nutripaste tubes, and would¡¯ve been enough to send me over the edge of culinary bliss. But it didn¡¯t. If anything, it was colored by a mild disappointment, only marginally improved by a texture that wasn¡¯t offensive, but tolerable. ¡°Well?¡± Thacea urged, prompting me to reply as frankly as I did earlier when it came to our previous conversation topic. ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± I responded half-heartedly. ¡°It tastes¡­ more or less exactly like how it looks. Sweet, tangy, weirdly like a pear with hints of like¡­ guava? Like, the texture definitely has that weird grainy stringy guava thing going on, except with the sliminess of an apple that¡¯s been left out a bit too long. It¡¯s something? But¡­¡± I paused, realizing the implications of this¡­ ¡°At least we can confirm that I won¡¯t have to rely solely on the aquaponics algae farm.¡± ¡°Anything that can save you from such a fate, even if marginal, is still a cause worthy of celebrating and striving for.¡± I began going through the rest of the fruits in rapid succession, each and every one of them more or less matched the old fruit left in the fridge for too long texture and flavor. This left the vegetables, which, while firm, tasted beyond overly seasoned. Dipping them in the hummus-like sauce didn''t help matters at all ¡ª a fact that I conveyed towards Thacea with vivid detail. One after another, every item on the dish was absolutely demolished, until I was finally left with the final boss as it were ¡ª the flatbread. My last match with a mana desatured baked good had left a dry and crumbly taste in my mouth. This flatbread¡­ was bound to do the same. I took a moment to compose myself, before quickly, and nervously, I took a small bite out of one of its corners. The flavor hit me first. A slightly charcoal-y, smoky flavor masked with some salty herbs baked into it. Next, was the texture, which¡­ wasn¡¯t bad. It reminded me of a naan bread, that like the rest of the food, tasted like it¡¯d been left too long on the counter. It wasn¡¯t crouton-levels of crispy though, moreso¡­ overly chewy and dry. It was as if there was something missing from it. ¡°You know what.¡± I finally continued. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to pay the kitchen staff a visit some day. Are the kitchens off-limits to students or do we need to schedule something to visit them or anything?¡± ¡°I believe we can simply walk in, Emma. Moreover, it¡¯s a distressingly common sight to see students of lower noble heritage marching into such places to make their complaints heard, or their special requests followed-through.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll do that, after this week is done. Or¡­ maybe after this month is done. There¡¯s just too much to deal with right now.¡± ¡°Starting first and foremost with sleep, followed by tomorrow¡¯s classes-¡± ¡°-and the spy mission to the man¡¯s office, yup. Him being alive might actually be a good thing, since it¡¯ll allow us to send an infil-drone to his office by following him there. And with my new set of drones printing as we speak¡ª¡± I paused, turning towards one half of the mechanical printer currently operating at max capacity. ¡°¡ªwe should be able to resume the library¡¯s mission, see if there¡¯s any evidence of his involvement with the Auris Ping - Thalmin situation, and get other answers in the meantime too.¡±
The Grand Concourse of Learning. The Hall of Light. Local Time: 08:55 Hours. Emma The irony of the lecture hall¡¯s name wasn¡¯t lost on me, or anyone else for that matter. Throughout breakfast, it seemed to be the butt of all jokes amidst the typical senseless topics they otherwise covered. I couldn¡¯t count the number of laughs, cackles, and giggles that all stemmed from the sheer disconnect between the black robe professor teaching exclusively in the hall of light. However, despite that laughter, and despite the cheery back and forths between the rest of the group, I couldn¡¯t help but to feel nervous at what was to come. Especially as the man had once again been absent from the morning breakfast. His seat remained eerily empty, even as the clock marched forwards towards class. There was no sign of him anywhere, not even as we made our way towards the hall proper, as we were introduced to a room that immediately sent me back to the man¡¯s dark and dreary office. The Victorian aesthetic was certainly back, as there was nothing worthy of the room¡¯s namesake seen anywhere. The various desks were made up of that same extra-dark oak that comprised up the man¡¯s desk back in his office. The chairs behind them were the only things that truly broke up the monotony of black, dark brown, and even darker brown, as their plush leather upholstery was colored in a series of forest greens, striking oranges, and bright reds. Indeed, the longer I stayed here, the more claustrophobic I got, as I felt last night¡¯s nightmare creeping up on me again, and the unmistakable feeling of being pinned down in the earth with my arms stuck to my sides surging to the forefront of my memory. That was the one move that actually worked to counter me and my armor. And it stuck with me. I didn¡¯t say anything else as Qiv began shepherding any stragglers towards their seats. I could only watch as the clock began slowly, but surely, ticking up towards the start of class proper. As five minutes soon became, four, three, two, and finally¡­ one. Nine o¡¯-clock was announced with a series of melodic dings, akin to a grandfather clock counting each and every hour up with its deep and resonant chimes. I counted each one, my breath hitching up with every passing ding. Ding¡­ ding¡­ ding¡­ ding. Until finally, at the ninth ding, the door closest to the front of the room¡¯s lectern swung open, revealing a dark and impenetrable chasm beyond it. I held my breath, and in that moment, the whole room was suddenly bathed in a glowing pearlescent white. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 775% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS This was quickly followed up by a series of harsh metallic footsteps, and a pair of softer footfalls, as well as a voice that resonated throughout the room. ¡°Good morning, first years!¡± Chapter 79: Counterspelling About half of the student body was blinded by the sudden and intense flash of light that blanketed the room. The other half seemed to have reacted in time to shield themselves from that unexpected assault on the senses. I was part of that latter half. And what I saw during those precious few seconds of visual overstimulation was nothing short of remarkable. The walls that had resembled Mal¡¯tory¡¯s dark and dreary office quaked and quivered in place, as if the whole room was a living organism, and we were somehow nestled within its guts. Each of the ornate wooden panels began dislodging from one another, their formerly flush surfaces cracking, revealing seams where there had been none before. These seams too began expanding, as each of the panels started wobbling, wiggling, then eventually disconnecting from one another entirely; moving independently of one another as if freeing themselves from a long-dormant state. For a moment, they looked almost like a reptile¡¯s scales when put under magnification. Then, and without any warning, they began disappearing, each panel violently pulled back and into some dark anomalous void that existed behind the walls themselves; sending the EVI into another fit of spatial error reports. We were, for a split second, completely wall-less. But not a second after the old walls had been¡­ for lack of a better term ¡ª banished to the literal shadow realm, did a set of new walls suddenly take their place. And quite dramatically too. As an entirely new wall face suddenly emerged darkness of the void, one that was earthy in tones, and reminded me more of those old teak wood heritage buildings back on Earth. There were fewer embellishments to them compared to the previous Victorian-styled walls, less patterns and ostentatious designs, instead simply going with this less is more approach that left vast empty gaps where decorations and patterns were previously present. It was almost as if they were left empty and bare for a reason. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 475% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Out of nowhere, dozens of pots, planters, and trellises suddenly embedded themselves through the wall, decorating what was no longer a blank canvas. Plantlife soon followed this open invitation for a free home, as hundreds of flowers bloomed all across the wall, carefully trimmed and perfectly appointed to the lattice structures they coiled on, with not a single one of them looking too wild or out of place. The sudden and abrupt remodeling completely threw me off. At least, until the source of it all suddenly made themselves known. ¡°Welcome, first years, to Mana-field perception and Light Magic theory.¡± The voice continued, as through the literal haze of change came a female figure that the EVI had little problem assigning a name and identifier to. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A109 Apprentice Larial Essen - NEXUS [CORDIAL] Yet strangely, the metallic footsteps that I¡¯d heard just before she crossed the staff door¡¯s threshold didn¡¯t seem to follow her. Instead, only the apprentice emerged from the door behind the lectern. She continued towards the lectern with a forced and somewhat stiff poise and gait, her general demeanor identical to how she carried herself prior to the whole crate saga. Which was of course, stern, tired, and completely unyielding; a fact supported by the impeccable posture she used to walk into class. Though the class¡¯ focus certainly wasn¡¯t on her demeanor, or her posture, nor even on the room that had completely morphed into a completely different space. No. It was instead almost squarely focused on the apprentice¡¯s cloak, which was most certainly not black. This prompted the entire room to erupt into a frenzy of whispers, tempered only by those daring enough to deploy privacy screens. But before those antics could evolve any further, and before my mind could even catch up with this turn of events, a loud, high-pitched, and unbroken ¡ª SHUSH ¡ª erupted from the front of the class. Emerging from a certain gorn-like lizard, who¡¯d stood up to face us rather than the apprentice currently manning her podium. ¡°ALL STUDENTS RISE!¡± He commanded. To which the entire class followed, with the only two tentative parties being myself and a certain bull. ¡°ALL STUDENTS FORWARD AND BOW!¡± He continued, prompting the whole class to follow suit, and from there, receiving a head-tilt¡¯s worth of praise from the apprentice. ¡°Thank you, Lord Qiv.¡± The apprentice spoke appreciatively, before setting her sights on the rest of the desks and chairs¡ª ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªwhich were subsequently transformed into brighter-toned variants of their formerly dark and depressive selves. ¡°I understand that there may be quite a few lingering questions amongst the crowd that quite a few of you wish to be addressed. In the spirit of ensuring that these needless thoughts and senseless rumors do not come to cloud your mind throughout the rest of class, thereby rendering these lessons moot, I wish for them to be addressed here and now.¡± Larial announced tacitly, but with a severity that was clearly modeled off of her mentor. The mood of the room quickly changed following that. But instead of shifting to the deference and submission in Articord¡¯s class, or the tentative acceptance of Vanavan¡¯s class, there was instead an overarching tone of outright confusion. It was as if the whole class didn¡¯t know how best to handle the situation. But whilst the rest of the room remained undecided, with a few shaky hands rising up one by one, a sense of relief quickly washed over me as my emotions finally managed to catch up to the rapidly developing turn of events. I couldn¡¯t help but to immediately activate the in-armor positional readjustment mode in the suit, allowing myself to just¡­ slouch; as I took in the class with a renewed wave of reprieve. It was that same feeling you get when you arrive on the day of the test, only to find it delayed by a week. Or that feeling you get when a notification arrives in the dead of night, on the eve of a presentation, to inexplicably announce that the whole project was now put on hold due to some unforeseen event. But unlike those situations where the why of the situation didn¡¯t really matter¡­ here, it most certainly did. Which prompted me to listen in, as the questions began flying towards the apprentice. ¡°If I may be the one so brazen as to offer myself as the voice of the year group, Apprentice Essen?¡± A certain Auris Ping took the lead, having been chosen by the apprentice amidst a sea of equally inquisitive hands. ¡°The floor is yours, Lord Ping.¡± The apprentice proclaimed. ¡°Thank you, Apprentice.¡± The bull responded curtly, eliciting a particularly intense glare from the likes of Thalmin. ¡°Where is Professor Mal¡¯tory?¡± The apprentice¡¯s features shifted somewhat at that question, as if she wasn¡¯t expecting something that blunt and straightforward right out of the gate. ¡°The professor¡¯s whereabouts are the business of the Academy¡¯s faculty and staff.¡± She spoke firmly, yet with an authority that she was clearly under equipped to wield. ¡°If you wish to inquire as to the nature of this class going forward, I will be more than happy to-¡± A series of hands were raised even before the apprentice had even finished her sentence. Which prompted the overworked and exhausted elf to switch over to another student before she even had time to finish her own thoughts. ¡°The floor is yours, Lady Ladona.¡± ¡°Thank you, Apprentice. Now, to clarify, are we to expect you to be teaching us for the rest of this class?¡± The being, which I could only describe as a butterfly with most of their insectoid-traits toned down, asked politely. ¡°That is correct, Lady Ladona.¡± ¡°And is this expected to continue for¡­ the rest of the month?¡± Ladona continued, her features shifting if only to show her growing sense of confidence.¡°The semester perhaps? Or maybe even the rest of the school year?¡± She continued at a rapid-fire pace, making a point to catch the apprentice off-guard before she could even respond to that first point. ¡°The responsibility of tutelage has been deferred to me on the basis of Professor Mal¡¯tory¡¯s current inability to fulfill this particular aspect of his responsibilities owing to his current engagements. This will remain so, until the Professor returns from said engagements.¡± The apprentice responded in that same jaded, no-nonsense tone of voice she¡¯d used during our pre-life debt interactions. It was, however, woefully inadequate in dealing with the likes of a vicious social predator like Ladona, who immediately waded through the tepid waters towards the first sign of weakness. ¡°So when can we expect his return, Apprentice?¡± She pushed further, her polite tone of voice acting like a velvet cloth, barely concealing the sharp mandibles beneath it. ¡°That is something I cannot answer.¡± The apprentice replied sternly, taking a stand against the shark that had now tasted blood in the water. ¡°Is this because of a lack of correspondence to the faculty?¡± The butterfly-person shot back quickly with an innocent cock of her head, her antennae swaying as she did so. ¡°I am not at a privilege to divulge such details, and that is most certainly not the case, Lady Ladona.¡± ¡°My apologies, Apprentice.¡± Ladona spoke in a calculated show of apologetics. ¡°In any case, am I to assume then that in addition to the responsibility of tutelage, that the responsibilities of proctorship, examination, and evaluation, have likewise been deferred to you?¡± She shifted gears once more, this time, her question garnered quite a few murmurs to emerge from the rest of the class. Murmurs which, as the EVI¡¯s little picture-in-picture subtitles hinted at, were all in support of Auris Ping¡¯s right-hand.
¡°That¡¯s right¡­ are we to assume that an apprentice of all people will be responsible for the evaluation of our performance?¡± ¡°I mean, she is an elf, that should count for something right-¡± ¡°Have some dignity! Just because she¡¯s an elf, doesn¡¯t mean she has any right to be dictating the fate of our academic progress!¡± ¡°That¡¯s right! This is an insult to our titles! How dare they relegate the tutelage of a class to a mere pitiable apprentice! What do they take us for, the dregs of society?¡±
These hot-takes continued escalating further and further, until finally, and seemingly out of nowhere, several of those voices began dying down seemingly mid-sentence; something had distracted them from their little outbursts. In fact, as the seconds ticked by, Thacea, Thalmin, and Ilunor turned towards each other knowingly, as if sensing that something was amiss. That something was soon made clear to me by a sudden uptick of mana that rose from two, to three, to four hundred percent above background radiation. At which point, several warnings suddenly slammed my HUD. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS CAUTION: Concentrated Heat-Energy Surge Detected! CAUTION: Localized Temperature Surge Detected! Those caution reticles quickly formed just behind the apprentice, hovering ominously over that void-filled doorway, right before a stream of concentrated flames surged forwards towards her. However, instead of dodging, ducking, or leaping out of the way, she stood firm; her features not even shifting even a little. As right before the flames made contact, so too did they suddenly stop, as that surge of mana radiation fluctuated wildly¡ª ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 200 - 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªbefore suddenly disappearing. The room was left stunned. Any remaining conversations were halted mid way, with many of the more chatty students barely even registering what¡¯d just happened. So for those who lacked situational awareness, and were still very much looking around for the reason why the rest of the class had gone silent, there was a round two to these attacks that erupted as suddenly as the first. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 650% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS This was signaled at first by the cracking of rock and the quaking of the entire room, followed closely by four distinct sinkholes forming along the floor at the very front of the lecture hall. A gurgling, churning noise echoed ominously from deep within the newly-formed holes, like an ancient concrete mixer dialed up to eleven. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Eventually, it stopped. And soon after, four humanoid earthen behemoths erupted from those sinkholes. Each of them easily towered over the apprentice, whilst each of their fists were at least a full Ilunor in size. A tense confrontation followed, and a silence that could be shattered by a pin drop soon descended upon the formerly whisper-filled room. Yet despite it all, the apprentice didn¡¯t move a single muscle, and to top it all off her eyes were closed shut as if in deep thought. Seconds passed. Then finally, the four cobblestone golems made their move. All four moved in sync, their first steps caused the whole hall to shudder, prompting me to instinctively flinch towards my sidearm as the events of the second day hit me harder than a sack of bricks. The first golem was poised to strike her side¡ª ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 300 - 650% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªbut found itself crumbling before our eyes, as local mana radiation spiked and shifted erratically. The second golem reached down with its fist, poised to grab the apprentice through the lectern¡ª ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 250 - 700% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªbut like the first, it found itself reduced to rubble, falling where it stood; as rock by rock, it collapsed under its own weight. The third and fourth golems charged forward together, lunging down fast towards the lectern¡ª ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 350 - 725% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªbut like the first and second, they too found themselves victims to the great equalizer that was gravity, as whatever magical glue was holding them together just up and failed, reducing those humanoid forms into harmless piles of rock. A few stray rocks did reach the lectern, but were effortlessly swatted away by an invisible barrier, leaving the apprentice and her immediate surroundings completely unharmed. Silence once more descended on the entire class. But just like the silence from before, that lull period wasn¡¯t destined to last, as a loud, boisterous, and jolly series of bellowing laughs emerged from behind the void of that door. I could tell, with immediate certainty, who that voice belonged to. I didn¡¯t even need the EVI¡¯s tag system for this one. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A110 Professor Sorecar Latil Almont Pliska - NEXUS [CORDIAL] ¡°Spectacular work, young apprentice! Spectacular work indeed!¡± The man came marching through the door, walking up and towards the apprentice. ¡°Thank you, Professor-Armorer Pliska.¡± The apprentice responded softly, prompting the armorer to reply with a sharp and brisk bow of his own. ¡°You can reserve your thanks for after class, I have plenty more exercises where that came from, and each and every one is going to be tougher than the last!¡± The man proclaimed not-so-discreetly, eliciting a worried expression to form on the apprentice¡¯s face, highlighting the seriousness of the otherwise lackadaisical tone of his voice. ¡°Needless to say, I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be thanking me much after I¡¯m done with you! The Academy¡¯s gotten a bit softer over the years, and I¡¯m about to make up for lost time before they toss old-Sorecar Latil Almont Pliska back into the workshop!¡± He paused, before shifting his tone towards a more menacing one. ¡°And that applies to your understudies as well, Apprentice.¡± ¡°Now!¡± The armorer quickly shifted his attention from the apprentice, and towards class, his gesticulations wild, as if making for the apprentice¡¯s slower, more sluggish demeanor. More specifically, he maintained this sort of ¡°Y¡± posture, with both arms high above his head as he spoke. ¡°For those of you wondering exactly what just happened¡­ well, perhaps it would be best for you to leave the class considering this is exactly the sort of thing we¡¯ll both be expecting of you following the conclusion of this school year! And for those of you who openly doubt the qualifications of our dear apprentice here¡­ just know that she was hand-picked by Professor Mal¡¯tory himself for a reason.¡± The man paused, before bringing his arms back down to his sides, if only to emphasize his point, before resuming the posture from before. ¡°And until I see a single one of you being personally selected by a black, red, blue, or white-robed professor¡­ I don¡¯t want to hear a single peep of doubt from you lot. At least as it pertains to the apprentice¡¯s ability to teach these classes! And if you need an extra guarantee of such? Well¡­ know that the Academy does not allow an apprentice to teach without supervision from an appointed Professor of the Magical Arts.¡± He paused, as if for dramatic effect, before pointing both hands down towards himself. ¡°Which just so happens to be the only Professor otherwise free from the burdens of stringent schedules ¡ª yours truly!¡± To Sorecar¡¯s credit, the murmurs born of inflated egos, and the whispers of dissidence did not once dare to interrupt, or follow-up on the man¡¯s proclamations. If anything, that entire¡­ display was enough to keep the critics at bay, and the ones on the fence to fully hop back on the side of respect. At least, until one group decided to tempt fate, deploying a privacy screen. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS If only for that privacy screen to suffer the same effects as the rest of the spells casted throughout class thus far. ALERT: VARIABLE FREQUENCY FLUCTUATION OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 100 - 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°Bold! Brash! And indeed, cheeky, if that word still holds true in this era¡¯s vernacular!¡± Sorecar announced with a laugh that radiated deep from within his armor. ¡°Unlike other classes that prohibit the casting of magic save for practice or demonstrative purposes, I fully allow it, nay, I say, I encourage it! You youths should be free to cast magic whenever and however you like!¡± The man paused soon after, and once again shifted gears towards a more severe timbre, yet never once losing that lackadaisical personality I knew him for. ¡°But just remember, while you may freely practice these magical gifts you have and hold so highly, doing such in this class is to be considered a direct challenge by yours truly! This is the study of Light Magic and Mana-field Perception, after all! And thus, in the spirit of scholarly competition, I shall take every spell cast as a chance to prove what¡¯s what!¡± The man paused, before gesturing towards the apprentice. ¡°Now, for those of you still quite confused with the definition of Light Magic as it pertains to the Nexian vernacular, I shall defer the right of tutelage back to that of our dear Apprentice. The floor is yours, my lady.¡± A brief exchange of bows between the teaching duo was had, before the apprentice finally started, now with all doubts and concerns fully addressed not just by words alone, but through action as well. ¡°As all of you may have already discerned, the demonstration Professor Pliska had so graciously provided, was an attempt to illustrate the most visible effects of Light Magic ¡ª that being the detection and subsequent dispelling of active and pre-active spells. The subject of Light magic, thus refers to the study of the detection, dispelling, counterspelling, and disarming of all forms of other magics.¡± ¡°And by that definition, it is the single most combative field of magic there is.¡± Sorecar promptly chimed in with a nod towards the apprentice, almost like he was tag-teaming this opening statement with her; establishing a precedent for the dynamics of the class. ¡°For in order to practice Light Magic, one must be in the presence of an active spell. And in order to truly practice Light Magic, one must be in the presence of active danger, as unlike most forms of magic, unevenness and intensity in casting is key to the successful destabilization of an offending spell.¡± ¡°So THAT¡¯S what the fluctuations were.¡± I thought to myself outloud inside my helmet. ¡°Moreover¡ª¡± Sorecar continued, raising his arms into the air once again as if to emphasize his points. ¡°¡ªto the seasoned and the wise, Light Magic as a field is known to be the single most versatile field in existence. For if implemented correctly, it has the capacity to bring all other forms of magic to its knees.¡± ¡°Versatility and adaptability are core elements of Light Magic, so while not capable of much harm by itself, it is capable of incredible feats of defense if used correctly.¡± To say that I was pleasantly surprised would¡¯ve been an understatement by this point. Because not only was Mal¡¯tory completely out for the count, and not only was he replaced by two of my only cordial relations within the Academy thus far, but the class itself was refreshingly straightforward. There was no mincing around words like Vanavan¡¯s class of lectures, there was also no overt signs of blatant propaganda and indoctrination like in Articord¡¯s class. Instead, this whole class started out with a practical demo of all things, followed up essentially with a breakdown of exactly what we were studying. ¡°What you observed during the start of class, were just two out of a near-infinite set of examples demonstrating counterspell and dispelling measures, a rather dramatic one I might add but one that you may very well one day use.¡± The apprentice continued following yet another exchange of nods with Sorecar. ¡°And indeed, while they may have seemed trivial to the keen-eyed observer, the execution of their dispelling is anything but. Because despite what most misinformed minds may believe regarding counterspelling ¡ª dispelling isn¡¯t simply a matter of overpowering an offending spell with a burst of mana, but instead, more akin to the unwinding of a knot, or the picking of a lock. You must act to untangle a spell, until the spell itself falls apart at the seams.¡± Sorecar continued, before once again swapping the baton with Larial through an exchange of nods. ¡°Which is exactly why Light Magic continues to be a field forever expanding in its domain.¡± The apprentice continued. ¡°Because as every other field develops more and more convoluted forms of spells and artificing, so too does Light Magic have to adapt, improvise, and overcome these advanced and oftentimes eclectic means of casting.¡± So an arms race¡­ I thought to myself. ¡°It is, in essence, a pure magic field. Yet it is applied as if it were an applied magical field of study.¡± Sorecar surmised, prompting me to actually listen in with genuine intent, this marking the first moment I was truly engaged with a class with none of its politics. ¡°And as for the Mana-Field Perception class?¡± The apprentice continued with an inquisitive tone of voice. ¡°It¡¯s effectively an extension, or rather, a foundational element of Light Magic depending on how one wishes to view it. Because in order to become proficient in Light Magic, you have to first understand and hone your abilities in order to detect the nuances within mana-streams and mana-fields. It is only through the detection of disruptions and the accurate understanding of a spell being cast, that you are able to apply more advanced abjurations in an attempt to counter these spells. Sometimes even before they¡¯re cast if you¡¯re so inclined to.¡± ¡°Now, how many of you can genuinely say you noticed the shift in the room¡¯s aura prior to the casting of that Firestream?¡± Sorecar asked the crowd, prompting almost every hand to be raised. ¡°Well that¡¯s just a blatant lie now, isn¡¯t it?¡± The man retorted bluntly. ¡°I can tell by your reactions just before the Flamespear hit, you know. So please, honestly now, I¡¯m giving you one more chance to answer.¡± About three quarters of the class lowered their hands, leaving only the gang, Auris Ping and Qiv¡¯s group, as well as a few other scattered students to maintain their raised hands. ¡°Alright, that¡¯s about exactly the number I counted from behind the veil! Rightio then!¡± Sorecar proclaimed through what I could only imagine would¡¯ve been a grin if it wasn¡¯t for his armor. ¡°This is exactly why mana-field perception is necessary. Because to most mages, it is a learned skill rather than an inherent trait. Which, of course, is by no means a demerit! But moreso, a wonderful little oddity in the grander tapestry that is the magical arts and pedagogue!¡± The apprentice quickly followed that up with a series of talks once more summarizing the expectations of the class. Mana-field perception was, unsurprisingly, divided into practical and theoretical assessments. Which, at first, seemed to be a potential roadblock, until I realized one fundamental way this class could actually benefit my aims. ¡°EVI?¡± I spoke inwardly, as Larial started her lectures on mana-field perception. ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Is there any chance you can maybe interpolate and extrapolate on the Apprentice¡¯s points? As in, is it possible to¡­ visualize magic, as opposed to just alerting me to bursts of it?¡± ¡°The mana-radiation visualization project, or MRVP, has been in development for some time, Cadet Booker. The research and development teams however, were unable to create a reliable model for field-use that wouldn¡¯t have been a liability to operations.¡± ¡°So it wasn¡¯t field-deployable because of the variance and accuracy issue.¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Alright, and you said all they needed was more data to create a better model for it, right?¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Could you¡­ do that with this? Is that within your mission parameters to do so?¡± ¡°It is indeed one of the many ongoing projects taking up the bulk of my processing capacity, Cadet Booker. However, proper implementation of this will require additional hardware to be developed, tested, and then field-deployed for testing. The success rate of which is yet to be determined. I cannot guarantee this operation will yield the desired results inferred, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Alright, that¡¯s good enough for me.¡± I acknowledged, before turning back to class with a renewed sense of invigoration. The lecture continued, only stopping about midway as the apprentice realized she¡¯d yet to elaborate on the whole Light Magic class side of things. Which, it turns out, was more or less similar to Mana-field perception in its assessment criteria ¡ª that being a mix of practical and theory assessments. A combination of written exams and practical counterspelling would be expected in tests, midterms, and finals. This would mark my first true hurdle¡­ but then again, perhaps I could balance out the rest of my grades against the practicals which was more or less an impossibility given my obvious human limitations¡­ ¡°As with most of the classes in the first year, I will treat both periods as one. As both subjects are intertwined, we may see glimpses of both within the same period.¡± The apprentice continued, before shifting gears towards something else. ¡°And on the topic of periods, since we¡¯re nearing the conclusion of the first, with lunch quickly coming upon us, I believe it to be necessary to inform everyone now of what awaits at the end of this second period.¡± The apprentice spoke ominously, as she made the effort of meeting every one of the students¡¯ gazes. ¡°By day¡¯s end, I intend for a pair of you to perform a practical demonstration of the fundamentals of light magic. So I expect everyone to pay close attention after lunch.¡± A small pause punctuated the room yet again, before Sorecar, after several hours of silence, came to complete the apprentice¡¯s thoughts; his faceplate squeaked to form a shape that just barely gave off the feeling of a smirk. ¡°Be prepared, and be ready, for your first real brush with magical dueling.¡± ¡°First being the operative word here, I must add.¡± The apprentice quickly clarified. ¡°Within the bounds of demonstrative purposes.¡± I could just about hear the band rounding out the corner outside the hall, and I could just about see a few students ready to pack up their things for lunch. However, before the band could arrive, Thalmin unexpectedly stood up, raising his hand in the process. ¡°Yes, Prince Thalmin Havenbrock?¡± The apprentice acknowledged. ¡°I wish to volunteer as the issuer of this duel, and to designate the other party for this duel as well.¡± The apprentice paused, considering this carefully, before nodding. ¡°Granted, though I warn you Prince Havenbrock, this is an introductory demonstration, and will be treated as such. In any case, who would you wish to designate as the other party?¡± ¡°Lord Auris Ping.¡± Chapter 80: Its Time to DUEL! The Grand Dining Hall. Local time: 1210 Emma The dining hall was, for all intents and purposes, the den of gossip. [Grand Dining Hall. Add: Alternative Designator - DEN OF GOSSIP] This was proven true by the incessant and rampant whispers, most of which were eventually hidden under privacy screens.But some of which were allowed to permeate through the air like a foul and sickening stench. ¡°What¡¯s he trying to prove?¡± ¡°Usurpers. Tepid-blood minor nobles thinking themselves bigshots in their ill-gotten castles. This is all they know ¡ª power through brute strength.¡± ¡°Do you think this could be some sort of a roundabout statement for the House Choosing Ceremony?¡± ¡°Could be, or maybe the newrealmer is rubbing off on him. I heard those savages live in hunting-packs that deal exclusively in violence.¡± ¡°Poor Lord Ping¡­ the man¡¯s been dealt so many blows both to his ego and integrity. He truly is the victim in this upstart¡¯s rebellion.¡± ¡°Let us hope the pious Ping prevails over his undeserving trials and tribulations. The man¡¯s a saint, a pious soul that must hold fast for those of us adherent to the eternal truths.¡± ¡°Or perhaps we should wait and see how things develop. I, for one, wish to side neither with the narrow-minded bull nor the aggressive upstarts.¡± ¡°Lord Qiv may prove to be the more suitable candidate for class sovereign¡­ but only time will tell.¡± ¡°Never in my wildest of imaginations would I have ever considered that the one to threaten our position, our place, our image, and our very survival in this sky of feral drakes to be you ¡ª Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor managed out incredulously, breaking me out of my long-range acoustic reverie. Though unlike his prior confrontations with myself, his current voice lacked the same intense vitriol. Instead, that was replaced with what I could only describe as a genuine sense of disappointment, as if confronting a friend who knew better than to commit to a dumb decision. ¡°That¡¯s an understandable statement to make, Ilunor.¡± Thalmin replied uncharacteristically calmly, as if he hadn¡¯t even registered the Vunerian¡¯s assaults. Or at least, that seemed to be the case, until he shot the deluxe Kobold a predatory side-eye. ¡°Because creatures that lack honor, integrity, and personal dignity, often conflate sacrifices and risk-taking, for foolishness and idiocy. For within the heart of a Nexian, lies only compromise for the sake of convenience. Whether that be the convenience of survival, the convenience of continuity, or the convenience of the status quo, you will sacrifice everything to maintain it ¡ª even if it means allowing your honor to remain sullied and trodden when there exists a pool to cleanse away that shame.¡± Thacea¡¯s eyes grew wary with concern at that statement, one of the few instances I¡¯d seen her genuinely worried about an Ilunor-Thalmin interaction. In fact, even I didn¡¯t dare to interrupt, especially after both parties had shot death-glares towards our elven waiter as he arrived with the lunch platter. ¡°Restraint, Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor responded with a deep and calculating breath. ¡°This isn¡¯t the adjacent realms, this isn¡¯t Havenbrockrealm.¡± ¡°Oh that much is very clear to me, Ilunor.¡± Thalmin interjected with something just short of a growl. ¡°In Havenbrockrealm, we would sooner slash, stab, flay, or lash our enemies in fair and open combat, than reduce ourselves to cowardly attempts at assassination or retreat with our tails between our legs at the earliest signs of defeat.¡± Ilunor took another breath, placing a small hand atop of his snout. ¡°I¡­ empathize with your desires to follow through with what you believe is a morally sound decision.¡± The Vunerian responded in a surprising display of maturity. ¡°However, and this goes for you as well, newrealmer¡ª¡± He paused for a moment, taking the time to glare at me before shifting back to Thalmin. ¡°¡ªwe are not acting as independent actors anymore. For better or for worse¡­ which, mind you, I still strongly believe this is very much for the worse in my case¡­ we are now a peer group. And as such, the actions we take and their resultant fallout, should represent the interests of us all.¡± ¡°These are bold claims.¡± Thalmin began with a restrained snarl. ¡°Even bolder when considering your actions the week prior. If the measure of a man were dictated by his words alone, then I would be inclined to acquiesce. However, considering the measure of a man extends beyond the weightless chatter of an exhaled breath, I feel far more inclined to reserve such actions for those far more deserving of my respect.¡± At which point, the lupinor turned towards both Thacea and I, following that up with a dip of his head. ¡°I apologize, Thacea, Emma, for conducting myself in the way I did.¡± Thalmin took a moment to pause, side eyeing Ilunor as he acknowledged him once again. ¡°Whilst his character may sully his words, there is some truth to them. I have, admittedly, overstepped my bounds in committing to an action which undeniably affects the group. However, I genuinely hope you understand the reasons behind my otherwise brash decision. For I must stand on principle, lest I decide to stand at all.¡± ¡°Given the crap Auris Ping pulled last night, I¡¯m inclined to agree with you, Thalmin. More than that, I would¡¯ve gladly taken your place and dueled him the good old fashioned way if I could. Besides, the look on his face when you chose him to be your dueling partner? It was just priceless.¡± I offered with a snide grin. ¡°In all seriousness, I¡¯m really not in a position to chastise anyone on the issue of just gunning it with your gut instinct anyways. Heck, the entirety of last week was one long drawn out escapade for my sake, which came at the expense of the group after all.¡± I chuckled nervously. ¡°So¡­ yeah, this is incredibly tame by those standards, Thalmin.¡± ¡°Whilst¡­ unexpected, and indeed a risk, I can understand the reasons behind it, Thalmin.¡± Thacea nodded uneasily. ¡°However, I do not advise any of you to make a habit out of this.¡± She commanded, making an effort to make individual eye contact with each and every one of us. Thacea¡¯s group-mom vibes were definitely showing at this point, which was probably for the better. Given the group seemed to be a magnet for this sort of thing, it was good to have an anchor of sorts. Sure thing, mom. Was what my gut instinct screamed at me to say. But instead, I decided to tone it down a notch. ¡°As you command, princess.¡± I dipped my head in acknowledgement, garnering a look of abashed confusion from Thacea, and just plain-old confusion from the other two. ¡°In any case¡­ I¡­ believe you wished to discuss matters outside of classroom priorities, Emma?¡± Thacea quickly attempted to shift past that little bit of prodding, which I obliged with an affirmative nod. ¡°Yep. Well, it¡¯s more of a small change of plans that I think is worth discussing with you guys. So, you remember how I was planning on deploying an infil-drone on Mal¡¯tory after the end of class right?¡± All three nodded, urging me to continue. ¡°Well, since Mal¡¯tory was a no-show, and with Larial taking the reins instead¡­ I think it¡¯s best if we stick with the plan anyways, just swapping out Mal¡¯tory for Larial. I honestly don¡¯t see any other way we can continue the library¡¯s questline, or any other way to find evidence to support the Auris Ping-Mal¡¯tory hypothesis we have going on. I know it¡¯s a huge gamble since there¡¯s no way of knowing if she¡¯ll even head to Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office after class. But honestly? This is our best shot right now.¡± ¡°I concur, Emma.¡± Thalmin announced with a nod. ¡°Given her proximity to the professor¡¯s orbit, we may in fact gain a greater bearing on his actual state. Which in itself may prove useful.¡± Thacea offered, more or less acknowledging my change of plans implicitly. ¡°We don¡¯t seem to have any other choice, earthrealmer. So a shot in the dark is better than stowing your wand.¡± Ilunor acknowledged in a rare display of solidarity. ¡°It¡¯s settled then. I¡¯ll deploy the drone right after class is dismissed. Then, we wait and see what the drone comes up with.¡±
The Grand Concourse of Learning. The Hall of Light. Local Time: 14:00 Hours. Emma Mana field perception was, as one would expect, dry, bland, and utterly nonsensical. Throughout most of it, the lesson was taught as if it was referencing something obvious, something mundane, something so typical that a lot of the topics were all but overlooked as ¡®self evident¡¯. A lot of what was taught reminded me of a mix between perception-theory, and situational awareness training. However, instead of relying on your eyes, ears, heck, even your nose or sense of touch¡­ it was instead relying on something completely outside of the human experience. ¡°Mana field perception, is at its core, a subject that is inherent to the sapient condition. However, the extent to which it is appreciated, understood, and most important of all ¡ª applied ¡ª varies exponentially. To an untrained mind, and an untempered soul, the world feels tepid.¡± The apprentice paused, gesturing to Sorecar, who answered his cue by pulling out a massive painting of a beautiful mountainscape that seemed to play through a closed animation loop; the effect was like a high-definition e-ink display. ¡°To a trained mind, but an untempered soul, the world feels¡­ distant, unaccommodating, and frustrating to emotionally comprehend.¡± Larial continued, prompting Sorecar to pull out yet another painting. This one, the exact same as the first, with literally no differences between them. ¡°To an untrained mind, but a tempered soul, the world feels¡­ unpredictable, erratic, and frustrating to logically put together.¡± Once again, another painting was brought out. This one, just like the previous two, looked completely identical. ¡°But to a sufficiently trained mind, and a tempered soul, with enough time invested into both theory and practice¡­ the world becomes open, expansive, and above all else¡­ it becomes rich with sights and sensations that would be impossible to feel with the physical form alone.¡± Larial concluded, just as Sorecar pulled out what looked to be yet another identical painting. The EVI¡¯s analysis concluded that there were absolutely no differences between the four paintings. Moreover, the mana radiation signatures for each were likewise exactly the same. It was only after slipping a note towards Thacea with a question written in High Nexian did I finally get my answer.
¡®What¡¯s the deal with these paintings? They¡¯re all identical.¡¯
Thacea quickly slipped me a blank piece of parchment in response. Though it didn¡¯t remain blank for long, as words and sentences started appearing on it; mirroring Thacea¡¯s furious ¡®note taking¡¯ in her own notebook.
¡®They¡¯re artisanal pieces imbued with the purposeful manipulation of the subject¡¯s aura, mana-field, and the surrounding mana. They were brought out in order to demonstrate the different degrees of mana-field perception by exaggerating the most common shortcomings found in those training in the magical arts. The first piece was, similar to your memory shards, lacking in any mana-fields or auras. The second and third pieces demonstrated a failure to imbue one or the other of the two fundamental tenets of mana-field perception. The fourth piece is representative of a perfect balance of both tenets, and is an exquisite work of art that completely outshines the first. It radiates beauty, whilst the first is flat and lifeless.¡¯
It took a moment for me to really register all that. Longer still, as I eventually became fixated on that last line in particular. Flat and lifeless¡­ is that what the world is like from my eyes? It was around that time that a thought hit me, and a realization truly sank deep into my very being. The world that Thacea, Thalmin, Ilunor, and the rest of the magical beings across the interdimensional plane experienced¡­ was one that I was utterly blind to. It¡¯d been referenced before. In fact, it¡¯d been drilled into me time and time again by the likes of Ilunor that I was lacking in something fundamental. But up until now, everything was either circumstantial, or outside of my general focus. So much so that I never was able to digest the implications of it. However, as much as a pit formed in my stomach, growing tighter by the second as Larial went on and on about the ebbs and flows of mana, so too did a very human resolve suddenly dawn upon me.
¡°I¡¯m going to see what you guys see one day.¡±
I wrote down on Thacea¡¯s magic paper.
¡°How?¡±
Was the message I received back. To which I only had one thing to reply with.
¡°The same way we overcame all of our other shortcomings.¡±
I wrote cryptically, garnering a look of confusion from Thacea as she read the note, to which I only had to point at my armor for added effect. By once again defying nature. I thought to myself. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. If we weren¡¯t born with the ability to ¡®see¡¯ this beauty, we¡¯d find a way to break it down into its fundamental components, dissect it, analyze it, and then reinterpret it for ourselves. The class continued on after that exchange of notes, as we touched upon what Ilunor had so eloquently described on that second day of the grace period: One: that manastreams were everywhere around us. Two: that manafields generated by living organisms were akin to rocks that not only parted those streams, but at times, interacted with them. Three: that using manafields, one could make out the presence of other manafields through the manastreams, and thus detect and extract information as is pertinent to the context of the situation. And while Ilunor would¡¯ve blabbered on and on about the ability to see and sense the emotional state of others through the manastreams, what Larial seemed to be focused on instead were the practical applications of this natural ability. Namely, she focused on exactly how to detect a spell being cast, what sort of spell was being cast, and most importantly ¡ª she focused on how it all tied back to Light Magic. ¡°In summary, only when one is proficient in the detection and analysis of manafields, can one finally start to dissect the intricacies of a manafield during spellcasting. And only once one masters the detection of spellcasting, can one even hope to begin the process of dispelling. The first step of which is to know exactly what a manafield looks like during spellcasting. Is there anyone in the class that can tell me what that looks like?¡± The professor asked, looking around, before picking one of the many raised hands. This one belonged to Qiv. ¡°Yes, Lord Qiv?¡± ¡°Influxes and effluxes, Professor. One will see the influx of ambient mana through the manastreams into a manafield, and the potential efflux of mana through a manafield back into the manastreams in the form of a controlled mana-construct.¡± ¡°Very good, Lord Qiv! Five points! Now, hold your thoughts on that latter part, because that ties into my next question!¡± Larial responded with a giddiness and chipperness that seemed to be lacking in every other class up to this point. ¡°The fundamental means of detecting a spell being cast is by looking out for a point of influx, and a point of efflux. Influx being the more difficult of the pair to detect, for what you have to look out for is mana is being funneled into a manafield. A weak spell being cast, will incur less disruptions in a manastream. However, the opposite is also true. As the more powerful the spell, and the more powerful the mage, the greater the rate of influx, as the amount of mana needed to fulfill the requirements of the spell increases. Paradoxically this would mean it will be easier to detect a powerful spell before it is cast, as the reduction in the concentration of ambient mana will be more palpable as a result. Efflux however, is rather straightforward, and will be the primary vehicle through which Mana-field Perception will be taught. As it is through efflux that we can ascertain the most useful details of a spell, or as Lord Qiv so eloquently puts it ¡ª the mana-construct. Does anyone know what this next point may be referring to?¡± Surprisingly, and out of a clear bias towards Qiv, Larial once more called him up. I couldn¡¯t blame her though. The man, despite being a certified bully and teacher¡¯s pet, was one of the few students who didn¡¯t openly doubt the apprentice¡¯s capabilities during the start of class. ¡°Yes, Lord Qiv?¡± ¡°The mana-construct refers to the skeleton of a spell; the arrangement and unique form it takes before manifesting into a proper spell.¡± The gorn-like lizard responded confidently. ¡°Outstanding, Lord Qiv! Five points! Now, whilst a mana-construct is indeed a vital step in the process of spell casting, its manifestation is rarely the point in time in which a spell can be intercepted ¡ª save for those who have mastered the art of Light Magic. As a result, a spell can be halted before it even has the chance to form. To most however, the mana-construct acts as a cue to prepare. It is a signal that demonstrates the irrefutable start to a spell. And as a result, it provides major structural clues as to the form of Light Magic that must be employed to combat it. Which leads me to my next point.¡± The apprentice once more paused, as she manifested literally nothing visible to the tune of more than a dozen mana radiation warnings. ¡°When broken down to their basic components, every spell is a complicated meshwork of mana, channeled and contained within a dynamic pattern that continuously evolves throughout the duration of a spell. Because unlike artificing, the casting of magic evolves with unpredictability and thrives on organic change. No offense to you, of course, Professor Pliska.¡± The apprentice turned towards Sorecar worryingly, who simply responded with a bellowing laugh. ¡°None taken, my aspiring understudy!¡± With that, Larial continued, her hands moving through an empty section of air that everyone seemed to be focused on; as if manipulating a hologram that I wasn¡¯t privy to. ¡°However, in spite of this unpredictability, the goal of Light Magic and Mana-field Perception in particular is to untangle the aforementioned meshwork of mana. For every spell is a puzzle and a series of knots to untangle. Your goal in this class, if I am to be reductive, is to untangle the complex mesh that comprises a spell, unraveling it to a point in which it can no longer maintain its form ¡ª collapsing it and thus, rendering it inert.¡± The apprentice emphasized this by miming what looked to be tiny little motions with her fingers, before pulling both hands backwards, garnering a series of affirmative nods from the crowd. ¡°And with that, we now reach the conclusion of today¡¯s class.¡± ¡°Or more accurately, the leadup to the climax of this class.¡± Sorecar quickly chimed in with a wave of his hand, prompting the room to change once more. Section upon section of the front of the classroom¡¯s floor was dragged down into the impossible void, only to be replaced just as quickly by an elevated stage resembling that of a fencing strip. ¡°Will the aspiring duelists please rise and approach the stage?¡± Sorecar turned back towards the crowd, prompting both Thalmin and Auris to stand, the pair giving each other some strong side-eyes before both marching up and towards the front of the class. From there, with not a single word exchanged, they took their places, Thalmin at the far right, and Auris on the far left. ¡°The purpose of this demonstration is simple.¡± The apprentice began, as Sorecar began moving towards both Thalmin and Auris, insisting them to pay attention. ¡°It is to show that even in spite of the complicated principles behind Light Magic, that there exists far simpler, far more basic principles that can achieve similar means. A precursor to more contemporary methods; spell-breaking. A maneuver that involves overpowering the structure and flow of a spell using a concentrated burst of pure mana irregardless of the type. However, unlike traditional dispelling seen in contemporary Light Magic, spell-breaking oftentimes requires a user to concentrate a disproportionately larger amount of mana in order to properly break a spell. It is thus highly inefficient, and as a result becomes rapidly impractical upon encountering spellcrafts of sufficiently advanced tiers. This demonstration will be aptly limited to a simple barrier-spell for the likes of the reciprocator, so as to not overburden the initiator with this simple task.¡± The apprentice quickly passed on the torch to Sorecar, who quickly took center stage with a few steps. ¡°Now, as this is not a traditional duel for dominance, nor is it a sporting duel for the purposes of victory, I will explain the narrow context by which this duel will be held.¡± Sorecar continued, his hands clapping together, generating an empty and resonant CLANG in the process. ¡°To our right, is our initiator, who will be demonstrating the principles of spell-breaking in an active capacity. To our left, is our reciprocator, who will be taking on the role of demonstrative spellcaster, casting only barrier spells for the duration of this short demonstration. Remember, there is to be no additional spells cast or demonstrated outside of these parameters. Is that clear?¡± Sorecar paused, making sure to meet both of the opponents¡¯ gazes with his empty helm. ¡°Yes, professor!¡± Both parties shouted simultaneously, barely containing their frustrations beneath a veneer of calm and restrained fury. ¡°Then we shall begin on the count of three.¡± The apprentice continued, taking the reins over from Sorecar, as she stood just a few steps away from the stage¡¯s combat-lines. ¡°One.¡± She began, as Auris began moving into position, practically grinding his booted hooves into the stage, and taking on the posture of some unknown martial art. ¡°Two.¡± Thalmin reciprocated by taking a more aggressive posture, as if positioning himself to leap towards the bull in a ravenous rage at the drop of a hat. ¡°Three.¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 225% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Nothing seemed to happen. At least, not to my eyes. Within a matter of seconds, all I witnessed were two mana radiation warnings timelogged as only a few seconds apart from one another. No physical effects were evident to me. Nothing, except for the flinching of a few muscles, and the waving of arms. As if they were conjuring make-believe magic spells, without the added special effects that came with it. Ironically, this was how I was expecting most Nexians to react to the reveal of laser weaponry. Silent, invisible, but otherwise omnipresent and deadly threats. Though despite the lack of any physical effects I could discern, there were certainly more than enough context-clues to go by when it came to exactly what had just occurred. Auris¡¯ features had more or less swelled up into a fury. His nostrils flared just short of snorting out fumes, and his teeth were bared clearly holding back a few choice words for the now-grinning Thalmin. ¡°Again.¡± He demanded, and barely a second after a nod of approval from the apprentice, came two more mana radiation warnings. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 425% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Once again, no noticeable physical effects had manifested. Though judging from the bewildered and shocked expressions of the crowd, something was definitely happening within the invisible world that was accessible through mana-vision. ¡°Again!¡± Ping announced, barely garnering approval from the apprentice this time, as things took a sudden enough turn that even I could notice them. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS It started with that ¡®barrier¡¯ again. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Followed by Thalmin overpowering it. However, instead of letting things go, Ping instead pushed towards a frenzied series of attacks. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 375% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS As one¡ª ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªafter another¡ª ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªafter another¡ª ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 400% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªafter another ¡®barrier¡¯ spell seemed to actually be causing Thalmin some pushback now. His movements now resembled someone attempting to dodge invisible projectiles, yet Auris made no moves to actually fling anything at him, only maintaining his prior stance. Though of course, this came with the same expected response. As Thalmin retaliated with his own attacks. Or rather, one, very large attack that truly outclassed what Auris could currently muster in his furious state. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 550% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS This spell that mildly shook the room seemed to be enough to ¡®break¡¯ the sudden incursion, prompting both Ping and Thalmin to turn towards the apprentice ¡ª the former blasting steam from his snout and the latter slashing his tail in the air ¡ª for yet another round of fighting, only to have Sorecar step in, placing a hand on both of the duelists who were barely a foot away from each other now. ¡°Wonderful! Excellent! Put your hands together for our introductory duelists, everyone!¡± The professor quickly coerced both of the parties to face the class, actively grabbing them by the small of their back, and thus effectively entrapping them with his iron grip ¡ª forcing them to face the class who cheered on with a series of applauses. Not a second later, the pair of them bowed, though it was unclear how much of this was Sorecar¡¯s doing, and how much of this was done out of their own will. ¡°In any case, seeing as both of our aspiring duelists have gone above and beyond in their demonstration, and seeing that this is merely a demonstration, and not a challenge¡ª¡± Sorecar emphasized that last point, forcing the pair to sweat in his over-shoulder grip. ¡°¡ªI believe it would be prudent to award them each a fair share of this duel¡¯s fifty points.¡± ¡°Given the enthusiasm shown, I am inclined to agree, Professor Pliska.¡± The apprentice quickly nodded, prompting the armorer to quickly push both of them off-stage, and back towards the staggered raised steps of the lecture hall. ¡°Twenty-five points for both of our duelist¡¯s groups.¡± Larial reiterated, and with a final round of reluctant applause, barely overpowering the incoming band marking the end of class¡­ the apprentice made her final statement. ¡°This concludes this week¡¯s first lesson. Considering the house choosing ceremony coming up this weekend, along with the Elaseer school supply shopping trip to town¡­ I am inclined to grant this class some clemency. No homework will be required. So please, enjoy the rest of the day, and prepare yourselves for what could be the most decisive day in your academic career here in Transgracia. Class dismissed!¡± No sooner were those words uttered did my eyes quickly turn towards my HUD, and a flash of commands came through without a second of delay. INFIL-DRONE01a ACTIVE, STATUS: NOMINAL. OBJECTIVE: PRIORITY TRACKING AND RECONNAISSANCE OF SUBJECT A109. MISSION PARAMETERS: TRACK, OBSERVE, MAP, AND RETURN-TO-BASE WITHIN PREDETERMINED PARAMETERS. CONFIRM COMMAND Y/N? ¡°Command confirmed.¡± I replied vocally, prompting the newly-printed replacement drone to pop out of its docking bay, before charting a course parallel to that of the apprentice. The drone¡¯s signal was lost just as the apprentice left the room through that dark threshold behind the lectern, at which point, the entire class began shuffling out to the tune of the encroaching band. Only time would tell what would come of this mission. But hopefully, we''ll get our answers sometime later this evening. However, instead of blending right into the crowd, or more specifically¡­ being ignored by said crowd, quite a few eyes managed to find their way onto our group. Moreover, the chatter seemed way too interesting to ignore. ¡°You were right, Cynthis¡­ perhaps there is something about this mercenary prince after all.¡± A female voice spoke from an all-girl group, eliciting a series of giggles, which were promptly silenced by a privacy screen the moment Thalmin craned his head around. ¡°Lord Auris Ping has yet again demonstrated his integrity. Let us ensure his pure-hearted determination is lauded this evening, lads! The fearsome strikers shall band together with the most pious of intent!¡± A tortle-like-turtle jeered, moving strategically to position themselves around Auris Ping¡¯s group, as the expected schmoozing began in full. ¡°Newrealmer.¡± Ilunor began, generating a privacy screen in the process. ¡°Yes, Ilunor?¡± ¡°How long do you expect your insect to take in its dastardly escapades?¡± ¡°Last time it took a good few hours. So, given this probably isn¡¯t a one-and-done deal, I¡¯d say¡­ maybe three to four hours at the least this time around?¡± I offered. ¡°Well then. Splendid. I shall be off, and return within that time frame.¡± ¡°Wait wait wait wait. Hold up. Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± I inquired firmly. ¡°I have my own life to lead, newrealmer. Now please, I shall return to our group¡¯s escapades in due time.¡± ¡°Where, Ilunor?¡± I reiterated. To which the Vunerian could only sigh in response. ¡°The student lounge. Top floor today, if I am to be interrogated for every ounce of information¡­¡± ¡°Then let¡¯s go. Together.¡± I proclaimed, garnering a few looks of surprise from both Thacea and Thalmin. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s time we start getting a feel for the lay of the land. We¡¯ve been cooped up in our own little world for far too long, maybe, just maybe, we should all expand our horizons just by a little bit.¡± Chapter 81: An Introverts Nightmare We were running. And I had no idea why. ¡°Hurry up, newrealmer! We haven¡¯t much time!¡± All I wanted from Ilunor was a straightforward explanation, a reason for this sudden and abrupt cessation in calm, all amidst the backdrop of a student body that stared at us with growing worry and suspicion. ¡°What¡¯s with the rush, Ilunor-¡± ¡°Your manaless disposition and mana-resilient armor has cost me the lead! I am now at a terrible disadvantage and you must rectify these circumstances at once by offering me your services as a makeshift steed!¡± He suddenly halted mid-stride, his chest heaving from all the running and backtracking we did in order to arrive back at where we started. All because his little shortcut proved incompatible with the mana-resistant nature of the suit. In short, the shortcut spat me right out, prompting us to rethink our strategies as we decided to take the usual route upwards, which put us right at the base of the dynamically-shifting staircase. Though none of the so-called ¡®setbacks¡¯ really explained Ilunor¡¯s rush to get to the lounge. ¡°EARTHREALMER, YOU MUST COMPLY!¡± He reiterated, stomping his booted feet-paws as he held both of his little arms by his side in a show of stern frustration. ¡°Fine. Whatever.¡± I acknowledged with an exasperated breath, picking him up by the underarms, and then placing him atop of my shoulders. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I shot back to both Thacea and Thalmin, who promptly began climbing up the stairs, reaching speeds otherwise impossible for the Vunerian. ¡°So, care to explain why I¡¯m-¡± ¡°Your insistence on accompanying me has ruined both my lead, and the context by which my speech is to be given! I must now draft an entirely new speech as we approach our destination! So hush! And remain silent and swift!¡± He all but yipped out, his little foot miming a jockey¡¯s kick, prompting me to cling onto every ounce of my self control so as to not hurl the blue thing off and down the seemingly endless flights of stairs. ¡°Onwards!¡± To say that we were the center of attention by this point, would¡¯ve been the understatement of the week as we passed by faculty and student alike, all stopping to stare at the ludicrous display of a kobold riding atop of a power armored behemoth, with both legs locked beneath its chin for stability, and both hands preoccupied with writing a speech of all things in the midst of a hurried jog. To the general public¡¯s credit, they moved on from the strange sight almost as quickly as we passed them, with only the barest of whispers being made in reference to the ungainly sight. ¡°Is that the newrealmer?¡± ¡°It is.¡± ¡°And was that¡­ a Vunerian riding it?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­ He must have tamed it. Perhaps we¡¯ll see the Vunerians claiming stewardship over its realms.¡± ¡°A symbolic gesture of dominance, and one quite fitting of a fellow-of-the-realm, no?¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t just any newrealmer though. I heard that it managed to procure a library card-¡± ¡°And I once heard Professor Belnor once held an illicit party boasting nothing but stocks of her ¡®special brew¡¯. A rumor does not make an outlandish claim an objective fact.¡± ¡°To each their own, and to themselves, the spoils of truth.¡± I ignored the words of the pair of elven twins, as we eventually found ourselves higher and higher up the steps, and amongst fewer and fewer members of the public as a result. Arriving at the top floor, it was clear none of us showed signs of fatigue. Moreover, it shocked me as to just how nonchalant both Thacea and Thalmin were amidst the exertion that would¡¯ve otherwise caused even a seasoned parkour master to become somewhat winded. The armor, for the most part, had fulfilled its power prefix; leaving me barely tired and holding my own just as well as the tireless pair. ¡°Are you guys usually this used to walking or-¡± ¡°There¡¯s no time for conversation, earthrealmer, now hurry!¡± The Vunerian interjected before I could even get a thought out, leaping off of my shoulders and scampering back onto the floor with a solid thud. We eventually made our way down the hall, which unlike the night of the warehouse explosion, lacked the open entryway into the common area. Instead, what we were faced with was a solid wall of stone, hidden behind a painting of a cozy lounge nestled within a Victorian conservatory. No sooner did confusion take hold however, did even more questions arise, as the painting covering the dead-end morphed into something else at the behest of a few hand motions made by the Vunerian. These random actions caused the painting to, for lack of a better term, melt. As the seemingly dry colors suddenly became wet, thick, and almost soupy. This soupy mess of colors that now more resembled a work of impressionist art, continued to morph and contort, until it finally looked animated. It looked as if the room and the subjects within were now moving about, as if we were now staring at a portal into an animated dimension through a really smudged-up pair of lenses. I¡¯d made the mistake of being so entranced by the surreality of it all that I got lulled into a false sense of security, and eventually paid the price for it. "Good afternoon." A voice erupted from a harlequin mask that¡¯d materialized within the painting. I immediately reeled back, whilst Ilunor remained unfazed, treating this as if it were a regular occurrence. The mask looked too lifelike to have been bound within the painting, staring at me from every angle, no matter which way I moved; giving off an eerily stereoscopic effect for its foreground subject. ¡°And how would the young master prefer their Earlshot Gretin today?¡± ¡°Stirred, not shaken.¡± Ilunor responded with a sharp tone, prompting the disquieting figure to eventually melt away, shattering into a million pieces in a dramatic display of undeserved victory. This prompted even more changes in the painting, this time increasing in clarity to the point where it looked less like a painting, and more like a literal portal into some hyper-realistic animated world; the scene within now resembling the common area I¡¯d entered on the night of the warehouse explosion. Without warning, Ilunor stepped through that threshold, causing himself to become one with the animated reality. Thacea soon followed, then Thalmin, and eventually, I did as well; braving the fears that I would become stuck in a painting for life. Instead, it felt as if I¡¯d just¡­ stepped through an open door frame and into just another room. It was about as anticlimactic as that portal trip from the IAS to the Academy. Turning around, I watched as the painting behind me began to dry and set, soon becoming a painted depiction of the hallway beyond its threshold. I was greeted soon after to a scene that was pulled directly from a period piece, as students walked and stood regally, amidst a buffet of canapes and appetizers, with three food-fountains providing free flow chocolate, wine, and what appeared to be champagne. Yet much to my surprise, it wasn¡¯t the food that Ilunor was worried about. Nor was it the free-flow drinks or seemingly endless distractions that dotted the room. Instead, he was headed deep into a crowd, seemingly gathered for no apparent reason at the far corner of the room. At which point, more than a few eyes within the room, and most certainly amongst the crowd, turned to address the Vunerian with a series of cadences that ranged from well-meaning, to ambivalent, to outright hostile. ¡°Oh, Chairman! Welcome back!¡± ¡°Chairman¡­ maybe you should reconsider today¡¯s regaling.¡± ¡°Hmph. So much for Nexian punctuality, Chairman.¡± The already-cramped space was made almost impassable with the sheer number of bodies present here. Indeed, many seemed to only part way the moment they observed the little thing approaching as fast as his legs could carry him. So as the final layer of students began parting ways, it quickly became clear to me what the Vunerian¡¯s final destination was. A chair. A big, bright red, overly ostentatious chair that was probably better described as a throne. But one that, to the wide-eyed shock and horror of the Vunerian, was occupied. Though occupied was probably being generous given who sat atop of it. ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A14 Prince Rostario Rostarion - Critarealm [NEUTRAL] ¡°Ah! Lord Rularia! Welcome, welcome! You are just about in time for this late afternoon¡¯s post-lecture mixer!¡± The hamster spoke warmly through a polite and cordial smile. Ilunor¡¯s reactions were¡­ quite mixed. Though one emotion that rang true above all else ¡ª annoyance. This was only increased the longer the chubby hamster smiled down at him, as he dangled his little legs to and fro from a chair three sizes too large for him. ¡°We were just about to start! Or rather, I was just about to start.¡± The little thing chuckled politely, placing a hand on his lips as he did so. ¡°I take it you wished to participate? I will only need a few hours to regale the class with my tales of untempered chivalry! And my pursuits of Nexian altruism. Surely you, Lord Rularia, a fine specimen of Nexian excellence, will oblige? Oh we do need a Nexian perspective for the daily regalings!¡± ¡°I am afraid I will have to politely decline, Prince Rostarion.¡± Ilunor replied curtly, though it was clear even amidst the public, his untempered rage still simmered. Except instead of screams, yells, and yaps, he instead used passive aggressive clips, and sharp enunciated breaths. ¡°Oh?¡± The hamster reeled back, placing his two little hands close to his chest, miming a look of emotional hurt. ¡°Well that is quite unfortunate. We all so very much enjoy your participation in the Regale of Tales¡­ but if I may be so brazen, might I ask why you wish to decline?¡± ¡°You do not ask a Nexian why they wish to do anything, Prince Rostarion.¡± Ilunor shot back sharply. ¡°Is that so?¡± The hamster mimed the motions of deep thought. ¡°Well, perhaps that is the case.¡± He shrugged in defeat, before just as quickly striking back with an attack of his own. ¡°In which case, I will have to ask that you leave, Lord Rularia.¡± He spoke with a calm, collected, matter-of-fact tone of voice. There was no hint of venom to it. In fact, the squeakiness and flightiness of his voice made it seem like a simple request. But the effects of it on Ilunor were obvious, if his shocked and incredulous eyes were of any indication. ¡°Are you speaking as the Sitter of the Chair?¡± Ilunor clarified, as if posing an ultimatum. The entire drama of the situation, whilst cranked up to 11, still didn¡¯t detract from how ridiculous it was. ¡°Indeed.¡± Rostarion acknowledged. ¡°And as the current Sitter of the Chair, the Prime Sitter, the Chairman¡­ I ask that you respect the sanctity of its authority, on behalf of all prior sitters, and all future sitters to come.¡± A staredown soon ensued, one accompanied by whispers and murmurs, soon resulting in a sharp SWOOSH of the Vunerian¡¯s cape. ¡°Then I express my desire to protest. Nay, I express my desire to challenge this day¡¯s Prime Sitter of the chair¡± Ilunor announced with great fanfare, his voice carrying with it a resonance enhanced through a burst of mana radiation. ¡°To these ends, I challenge you, Prince Rostario Rostarion, to a chairman¡¯s duel.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± The hamster pondered, once again lazily kicking his feet to and fro. ¡°Then as the current Sitter of the chair, and Prime Sitter for today¡­ I have no choice but to accept this challenge.¡± Rostarion promptly hopped off of the chair, landing feet first, meeting Ilunor eye-to-eye, being almost exactly the same height. ¡°Let us begin.¡± Ilunor announced, his hand darting off to the right, as if poised to draw a sword¡­ only to conjure a piece of paper with a burst of mana radiation. ¡°Let¡¯s.¡± The hamster reciprocated by performing the same motions. At which point, it was very much clear what was going down, and exactly what was happening. ¡°So¡­ this is what he was rushing here for?¡± I turned to Thacea and Thalmin. ¡°For the privilege of having first-dibs on a chair that¡¯ll grant him first-rights on telling stories to an awaiting crowd?¡± ¡°The Storyteller¡¯s Chair is a powerful instrument in the currying of favors, and the ability for one to direct the flow of a social mixer, Emma.¡± Thacea responded. ¡°I¡¯ve never been one for these sorts of things.¡± Thalmin quickly added, glaring at what I could only describe as a mix between a musical duet, slam poetry, and a rap battle. ¡°Because such things are perhaps beyond the capacity for a lupinor to grapple with, no doubt.¡± A voice emerged from the crowd, one belonging to a lion man. ¡°It might be wise to simply leave, Emma.¡± Thacea urged. ¡°At least, away from the Storyteller¡¯s nook.¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°I concur.¡± Thalmin quickly added, glancing sharply at the lion man, before turning back to us. ¡°There¡¯s nothing for us here, because unless we ascribe ourselves to the hierarchy of the Storyteller¡¯s Nook, we will gain nothing by being here, nor lose anything by leaving.¡± ¡°Your loss, lupinor.¡± Another voice from the crowd announced loudly, just as we left to the tune of Ilunor¡¯s rendition of some Shakespearean soliloquy on the virtues of the Nexus. It was only after moving out of that crowd and back into the middle of the lounge did I finally have time to take stock of everything. The room was more or less exactly the same as it was on that fateful night; a star shaped design that had five distinct nooks, with a main ¡®observation area¡¯ in the middle of it all. The EVI detected no dimensional tomfoolery going on. But what it did detect was a disproportionate abundance of other mana-fueled shenanigans happening all around us. Though I really didn¡¯t need it to tell me that. Not when the magic-fueled nature of the activities around me were laid bare. From fleets of animated paper cranes duking it out in the second nook, to the erection of tiny miniature castles, spires, and towns in the third, to a genuinely unnerving group gathered around a circle emanating a dark and eerie black-fire in the fourth, to an ensemble of instruments being assembled in the fifth, magic seemed to permeate everywhere in lieu of the inventions powered by science and technology. And for a moment, if I blocked out the Nexian propaganda spewing from Ilunor and Rostario in the first nook, everything just felt¡­ eerily normal; functionally similar to what college common areas were like back home. For a moment, everyone just seemed like¡­ college kids, doing their own thing in their own little niches after class. That moment only continued, as both Thacea and Thalmin were naturally subsumed by the flow of the conversation around them, ushered into groups that seemed to find some distinct interest in them. The perpetrators were obvious for the latter, as ¡®Cynthis¡¯ and her all-girl group who¡¯d shown interest in Thalmin¡¯s recent escapades from before, gathered around him. ¡°Why if it isn¡¯t the Roguish mercenary prince.¡± Cynthis announced to her clique, prompting a series of off-handed comments both good and bad to erupt, and eliciting the attention of a few more peer groups to enter the fray; more or less sweeping Thalmin up in a wave of congratulations both sincere and facetious. ¡°I¡¯m sure your peers won¡¯t mind if we borrow you for a moment!¡± Cynthis capped off the assault with a question packaged as an imperative, more or less ushering Thalmin off towards one corner of the banquet table. The poor prince didn¡¯t even have a chance to protest. Thacea, on the other hand, seemed to have been swept up by an all too familiar face¡­ or lack thereof. As the faceless apprentice she¡¯d spent hours talking to prior back in the medical wing approached her, showering her in senseless conversation, and thus locking her in that perpetual cycle of Nexian dialogue trees. This left me alone, and very much the subject of increasing interest amongst the student body who weren¡¯t already preoccupied with an activity or conversation. ¡°To approach or to refrain, that is the question.¡± A few crocodillians whispered amongst themselves. ¡°Will it be wise to approach a pariah?¡± Came another hushed question. ¡°A ¡®pariah¡¯ with a library card?¡± ¡°It is an object of living antithesis, mired in drama, wrapped in an enigma.¡± ¡°...The newrealmer or the card?-¡± ¡°The newrealmer, you imbecile!¡± More and more groups began debating their approach, as dialogue sprawled across my HUD, organized into groups; keeping me equally distracted from approaching any of them first. ¡°So what¡¯s with its armor?¡± ¡°No, what¡¯s with its tinted lenses?¡± ¡°Perhaps a more prudent question should be what meaning can be derived from its foreign seals and unconventional heraldry.¡± ¡°It unnerves me with its void-filled emptiness!¡± ¡°But can a void truly be described as ¡®filled¡¯, Lord Gracion?¡± ¡°You know what I mean!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go first.¡± ¡°No, you most certainly shall not.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because I shall go first.¡± Eventually, that deadlock between indecision and distraction was broken. But not with the efforts of any of the bickering students, as instead, a familiar face emerged from an entirely different crowd. ¡°Hmm, and why if it isn¡¯t the talk of the town.¡± ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A98 Navine Ladona - Anurarealm [NEUTRAL] The butterfly-like biped, with features that seemed almost forcibly tailored towards a humanoid audience, parted the crowd with an unfurling of her two back-mounted wings, creating an open path and causing the smaller amongst the crowd to flop to the ground in an attempt to avoid collision. Poor Etholin was once again part of the casualty-count. The whispers subsided for a moment, her presence creating an almost commanding aura amidst the small crowd. ¡°Tell me, what exactly are you, hmm?¡± She began, her antenna swaying with a head tilt. ¡°I think it would be more appropriate, and perhaps a bit more polite, if we started off with who I was?¡± I offered politely. ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Ladona feigned a moment of thought, sinking her chin into an open fist.. ¡°I think not.¡± She answered bluntly, almost condescendingly so. ¡°You carry yourself as if you were an open book, Cadet Emma Booker. And yet¡­¡± The woman paused, lifting a finger following the ensuing silence, before using it to bridge the gap; trailing a manicured nail across my chestplate. ¡°... you conceal yourself in plain sight.¡± The trailing finger paused, as it evolved into an outright open palm pressed assertively across my chestplate. ¡°The people are curious, Cadet Emma Booker. They are curious if this is a handicap for your people¡¯s immature manafields. Are your kind so emotionally immature that they would rather see your manafield hidden beneath layers of enchanted metals? Perhaps your manafield so barely registers, that you require protection from the Nexian elements, sealed within a walking prison? Or perhaps¡­ you are a child of taint, a pariah of disease akin to your Avinor-fellow?¡± ¡°Judging by all of these questions, it¡¯s clear curiosity will be a commonality we all share.¡± I beamed out brightly. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see we at least have something in common, as there seems to be so many other differences which may otherwise act as walls rather than bridges.¡± I continued calmly, benignly, garnering a snide look of dismissiveness from the haughty noble. ¡°However¡­¡± I continued, my voice darkening. It was at that point that I struck back. My hand moved quickly to clasp Ladona¡¯s offending wrist, her magically-attuned reaction woefully under-equipped to deal with the suit¡¯s superhuman speed. ¡°I do not take kindly to blatant insults and condescending remarks to those I call my peers, or to myself for that matter. Nor do I take kindly to myself, or my armor and belongings, being touched without permission.¡± I stood still, unflinching, testing Ladona¡¯s resolve as she too refused to pull back after a few fitful tugs. None of us were willing to back down. Which prompted me to release her wrist after a few moments of silence. ¡°I merely reciprocate the actions I¡¯m faced with, tit for tat.¡± I offered, before shifting just as seamlessly back into that bright and beaming persona. ¡°But regardless, I thank you for bringing these questions and concerns forward. Though¡­ perhaps it would be best if I answered the crowd directly.¡± I paused, turning towards the crowd in question, before placing down my gambit. ¡°Or am I to believe that the gathered lords, ladies, princes, and princesses amongst us have relinquished their voices to Lady Navine Ladona so that she may speak on all of their behalf?¡± This almost immediately split the crowd. As whispers either turned into outright open conversations disputing this fact, whilst a good chunk of the crowd suddenly ignored the back and forth entirely, moving off and going about their own separate ways. ¡°We have questions we wish to pose, newrealmer.¡± The group of four crocodiles from earlier spoke in unison, pushing forward past Ladona, and all but demonstrating their rejection of her authority. ¡°As do we.¡± Came the tortle-like-turtle from earlier and his group of rag-tag peers. The rest of the crowd, including a particularly silent Etholin, remained silently accepting of this change in dynamics; as the silent coup of Ladona¡¯s authority was completed in mere moments. This trend continued, until my little corner of the common room became just as loud as any corner, and I¡¯d somehow found myself finally part of the year group¡¯s active conversation. Ladona, to my surprise, remained within the crowd. Though it was clear she was moreso there for the impromptu Q and A, as the questions began piling in. The first of which, I was not expecting. Not because it was particularly difficult to answer, but simply because it seemed extremely superficial to start off with. ¡°Allow me to start. What do those runes on your armor mean, newrealmer?¡± The crocodilian student inquired, pointing at the E-ARRS Mk.1 decal on the upper right side of the armor¡¯s arm-piece. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s just my armor¡¯s designation and model number.¡± I answered simply. ¡°A superficial label, with no enchantments ascribed to it?¡± He shot back questioningly. ¡°Correct.¡± I nodded, prompting the crocodile¡¯s fellows to circle me, eying and picking apart every angle of my armor. ¡°A shame.¡± Came one of the crocodiles, a shorter one, practically Ilunor¡¯s height. ¡°Enough of the overanalysis of these pointless runes. I expected more from your peerage, Viscount Gumigo. Enchanted or not, I am more interested in that.¡± Ladona yanked the reins of the conversation away from its lazy start, pointing at the flag emblazoned prominently on my chestpiece. ¡°Your heraldry, I imagine?¡± The crocodile surmised. ¡°Not quite. It¡¯s a flag, composed of a collection of symbols added gradually over time through compromises for representation and union; each symbol representing the constituent geo and astro-political regions of my nation.¡± I answered a-matter-of-factly. ¡°It¡¯s rather¡­ bland for something you self-report as grand.¡± The tortle-like-turtle spoke. ¡°Two colors, and rather weak and benign colors at that.¡± He snickered. ¡°It¡¯s almost as if your realm is readying itself to be overpowered by the Nexian canton.¡± Ladona spoke dismissively. ¡°Weak colors, and even weaker symbolism, befitting of a realm with weak manafield constitution.¡± ¡°Perhaps it might be best if we allow the newrealmer to speak to the symbolism first?¡± Etholin offered, peeking through the crowds with a curious wiggle of his nose. ¡°No explanation given can excuse the lack of artistry.¡± Ladona sighed. ¡°But fine, go right ahead newrealmer. Endow us with your grand tirades on these flat and uninspiring symbols.¡± ¡°Well to address your points¡ª¡± I made the effort of turning directly towards Ladona and the turtle. ¡°¡ªmy kind finds meaning in brevity, and significance through simplicity. I understand that the understatedness of our symbols may seem quite foreign, but from the experience forged in our formative development, we have come to believe that the strength in a flag is derived as much from its design as it is from the ideals it upholds through the actions of its bearers. Moreover, we arrived at this point through centuries of well-intentioned compromises; attempting to unite all through shared commonalities. The greatest commonality of course, being the sovereign territory we inhabit.¡± I pointed at the Earth. ¡°My world, or realm as you might call it; complete with its landmasses and continents.¡± ¡°Then what is that below your realm?¡± One of the smaller crocodiles shot out, pointing at the smaller circular body tucked beneath the Earth. ¡°That¡¯s Luna, our moon.¡± I answered. ¡°So a realm and its moon¡­¡± Ladona chuckled dismissively. ¡°How original. I¡¯m going to assume then that the seven stars on either side surrounding your realm is a rough and vague visual representation of the stars upon the tapestry?¡± ¡°They are in fact simplified illustrative representations of stars.¡± I nodded. ¡°However¡ª¡± I paused, and for a moment, considered the next expository line carefully. Fundamental systemic incongruency was, after all, very much present. Whilst Thacea, Thalmin and even Ilunor had begun moving towards accepting this reality-shattering truth, there was something to be said about the rest of the student body that hadn¡¯t yet gone through the ringer. It was¡­ tempting, even encouraged through some chapters of SIOP to be forthright with explanations pertaining to the flag and the UN as a whole. However, given the circumstances and the ultimate discretion I had as mission commander¡­ this just wasn¡¯t the time for it. We had to establish a foundation, just like I did with the gang, before moving forward with something this monumental; to overcome the barrier that was FSI. I could potentially simply say it without addressing it outright. However, that would inevitably result in a flurry of questions that couldn¡¯t be addressed, at least, not at this junction. One had to walk, before running, let alone blasting off into space. Just like I planned to do with the gang now that things planet-side had been revealed to them in the holo-projector¡­ ¡°¡ªthere are other symbolic meanings ascribed to the stars. Of which I think would be better kept for another time.¡± I concluded succinctly, prompting more than one curious gaze to form amongst the gathered crowd. ¡°Layers upon layers.¡± Viscount Gumigo spoke in a huff. ¡°The newrealmer certainly does have a penchant for showmanship, I¡¯ll give her that much!¡± One of the smaller crocodiles spoke up just as quickly, crossing his arms as he did so. ¡°In any case¡­¡± Ladona sighed with a pinch of her ¡®nose¡¯. ¡°We are getting absolutely nowhere with these trivial discussions. Let us broach the drake in the room and be done with these pointless sojourns into the inane ramblings of a newrealmer.¡± She raised a finger, pointing it dangerously close to my armor, as if tempting the same reaction from before. ¡°Why exactly do you wear that armor, hmm? I believe that should be a simple enough question to answer?¡± This seemed to cause some disquieting murmurs in the group, primarily as a result of the impromptu leader of it having once more retaken her reins. However, I recognized it for what it was, or rather for the opportunity it presented ¡ª an off-ramp from one tense conversation, into what was definitely going to be another controversial one. Though it was one that needed to be addressed as the most fundamental disruption in their worldviews, if I am to build anything atop of it at all. The mana-less issue, was after all, the first matter I broached with the gang. And perhaps the process in which I did so, could be used as a pilot model and applied elsewhere too. So with a subsequent sigh, and a few large steps back away from Ladona¡¯s attempt at poking my armor again, I finally spoke. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve all heard rumors of the first Earthrealmer who crossed the threshold?¡± I began, garnering quite a few head bobs from the crowd. ¡°Well then, I guess we¡¯ll start there. What do you know about it?¡± ¡°That your first candidate was thoroughly harmonized.¡± The tortle-like-turtle responded bluntly. ¡°Either due to a sickness of the soul, or an inability of the soul to render the difference in the purity of Nexian manastreams.¡± One of the crocodiles chimed in. ¡°That¡¯s all somewhat correct.¡± I nodded. ¡°However, it¡¯s more in the ballpark than on the point. So to keep things concise, let me put things simply ¡ª my people come from a manaless realm, and as a result, all life in my realm, humans included, lacks a manafield. The reason why the first candidate was harmonized as you say, and the reason why I need this armor, is because of the dangers posed by mana on a living being lacking in a manafield.¡± The reactions to this revelation, one that I knew had to be addressed one way or another, was understandably one of disbelief. ¡°A bold faced lie.¡± Came the tortle-like-tortoise. ¡°Incredibly bold, and incredibly stupid.¡± Came Ladona. ¡°But not out of line.¡± Came one of the crocodiles, who placed a palm underneath his ¡®chin¡¯, as the entire group turned towards him. ¡°It¡¯s quite simple really. Even you of all people touched upon it, Lady Ladona.¡± Viscount Gumigo snickered dismissively at the butterfly. ¡°The newrealmer simply doesn¡¯t know her realm has mana. Moreover, her kind must be so weak-fielded, that they mistake themselves to be manaless. It¡¯s merely an extension of your existing conjecture. Perhaps you should¡¯ve thought of that yourself.¡± He grinned cockily. ¡°There is always truth in one¡¯s beliefs. It¡¯s just that the more primitive you are, the more that truth is often obscured by gross misunderstandings.¡± He quickly turned towards me, now with a face of pride, as if he¡¯d unlocked a hidden truth. ¡°Am I correct, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°No.¡± I responded bluntly. ¡°So let¡¯s start from the top.¡± I paused for a moment, palming the device that would more or less force the crowd to face the facts, as it¡¯d done to Ilunor just a week prior ¡ª the tablet. ¡°Tell me, you understand that there exists manaless methods for processes expedited by magic, yes?¡± ¡°Such as in fields like smithing and record-keeping?¡± The crocodile offered. ¡°Correct.¡± I nodded. ¡°What could you possibly be getting at here, newrealmer?¡± Ladona remarked with a frustrated sigh. ¡°Well, you would assume that without magic, and without the presence of mana, that advanced metallurgical processes wouldn¡¯t have been possible, correct? The same goes for advanced means of recordkeeping such as sight-seers and memory-shards?¡± The crowd, for once, nodded silently. ¡°Well then, you wouldn¡¯t expect there to be a manaless means of storing information in a similar capacity to your-¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 450% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Another mana radiation warning hit me. This one plunged me into complete darkness. ALERT: Critical reduction in light levels. Compensating¡­ ¡°Not now, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± A voice boomed through the dark. A dark that the rest of my sensors immediately pierced through, revealing that I was simply covered by an anomalous light-dampening field, hampering some of my visual sensors; but not the rest of my sensor suite. This revealed that I was standing at the exact same spot as before, though with the addition of a certain shadowy-faced apprentice. ¡°What-?¡± ¡°I apologize for breaching Expectant Decorum by disrupting your points of personal privilege. However, your current aim-to-disrupt has triggered this outcome. I suggest you avoid broaching this particular talking point, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°...And what if I don¡¯t?¡± I shot back defiantly. ¡°I am not at liberty, nor am I of the authority to elaborate further. This is a matter that will be addressed in due time. Or rather, much sooner than you expect. But until then, I believe it¡¯s best that you do not let loose this particular dragon. The party is almost over, after all.¡± Chapter 82: A Magical Mixer ¡°Is that a threat?¡± I countered plainly, simply, and with my hand brushing against the back of my pistol. ¡°No, newrealmer.¡± The apprentice replied with a nonchalant, conversational tone of voice, having dropped that momentary rise in intensity. ¡°I am merely referring to this little mixer. Which, I believe, I should allow you to get back to. But just be warned, it would be wise to heed my words. Though I highly doubt this will be the last you¡¯ll be hearing of this, as perhaps clarification will be needed to address exactly what is and isn¡¯t acceptable and tolerable. Then again, I doubt even that will be my purview. Oh well¡­¡± The apprentice shrugged, cutting himself off and removing the little blanket of darkness before he could get into another one of his long-winded tirades. The darkness disappeared as abruptly as it¡¯d arrived. Moreover, if the sensor readings didn¡¯t already make it clear, it was now very much evident to me that the shadowy bubble I¡¯d been thrust into wasn¡¯t some kind of portal or spatial anomaly, but a careful manipulation of light; separating our small space from the rest of the gathered crowd. A crowd which, much to my surprise, didn¡¯t seem at all fazed by the scene. If anything, the sudden and inexplicable appearance of the apprentice seemed to only result in the expected nods of respect, and bows of deference. No words were exchanged between the shadowy apprentice and the gathered group. Instead, only a glare and a nod of respectful warning was given; generating an immediate shift in the atmosphere. A vibe that immediately read as: Tread Lightly. Silence permeated the immediate aftermath of that encounter. Whilst concern over the apprentice¡¯s actions brewed inside of me, forcing me to consider the implications of this first open attempt at information control, and more worryingly¡­ if he was acting on his own volition or at someone else¡¯s standing orders. However, despite the general submission to the apprentice¡¯s presence and the unspoken warnings toward the group as a whole, the mileage by which the warning was taken¡­ varied considerably. The tortle-like-turtle, along with the rest of his group and some scattered compatriots, simply left. Ladona and a few others remained there for a second longer, before likewise breaking course, returning back to Auris Ping and the rest of their group. Etholin and the group of crocodiles however, whilst relatively unnerved and cautious, actually took a few steps towards me. ¡°Well then.¡± The orange and yellow Viscount Gumigo broke the silence first. ¡°You, newrealmer, are now officially on our sight-map.¡± He spoke in a manner that because of his cocksure and gung-ho demeanor, made it difficult to determine if that was a particularly good, or a particularly bad thing. Though the fact he also left quickly after saying that, probably implied the sentiment lay somewhere in between. ¡°We''ll have our eyes on you.¡± One of the crocodiles spoke, using two of his three fingers to point towards his eyes, before shooting them back towards me. ¡°And our ears too!¡± The smallest crocodile yapped through a confident grin, before just as quickly bolting off. This left only the small ferret as the last one standing, as he once more craned his head up higher and higher, just to meet my eyes. ¡°T-the offer from before still stands, earthrealmer.¡± Etholin began, generating a brief instance of a privacy screen around us. ¡°The offer to parlay that is. W-with the added caveat of guaranteed discretion on my part.¡± The ferret¡¯s mild-mannered demeanor remained all throughout, even as he tried his best to infer something other than skittish nervousness through his words. ¡°You were leading towards something, a topic which¡­ while admittedly taboo and borderline preposterous, entering the realm of absurdity, is one that I very much wish to hear more of. Will you walk with me, Emma Booker?¡± The ferret gestured towards the second nook. ¡°We don''t have much time before the end of this mixer, after all.¡± I nodded cautiously, prompting the ferret¡¯s privacy screen to grow stronger with mana radiation, a confirmation that these things did take more effort to maintain when in motion. ¡°I¡¯m flattered they even bothered to entertain my explanations in that case.¡± I offered, trying to keep the conversation rolling as it naturally veered towards one of the points I wanted to touch on; gauging the crowd from earlier using Etholin¡¯s insight. ¡°After all, it would¡¯ve been much easier to simply disengage and disregard, rather than to engage and actively humor my points.¡± ¡°Indeed. Though this perhaps due in no small part to the¡­ unconventional and daring plays of your vastly inferior hand.¡± The ferret paused, before quickly correcting himself just as we arrived at the third nook. ¡°I¡­ I meant no disrespect with that of course!¡± ¡°No offense taken, at least not at this junction, Lord Esila.¡± I offered with a sigh, urging him to continue. ¡°A newrelamer¡¯s deck is often composed of cards stacked against their favor from the moment they step into the nest of intrigue that is the Academy. Your¡­ unique predispositions, whilst seemingly a handicap, have been overshadowed by your peers¡¯ classroom performance in the form of your current points, and most notable of all¡­ your library card. Whilst the former is subject to the whims of the academic game, the latter¡­ has become a foundational cornerstone to your lore. This, amongst a few other rumors and whispers, has forced the student body to reassess its stance on what would otherwise be an easily-dismissed existence. Indeed I¡­ applaud your risk-taking maneuvers during that fateful assembly. Though I can imagine it did not come without its price.¡± That latter, almost ominous statement, immediately put me in mind of Auris and the resultant cold war stemming from our two fates that¡¯d become inexplicably linked after that assembly fiasco. A pause quickly punctuated the scene, with Etholin looking up expectantly, as I took a moment to get a closer look at the third nook and all of its magically-derived shenanigans; namely the battle-lines now drawn into what appeared to be a fully actualized, highly-rendered battlemap, and miniatures of several towns and cities scattered across it. ¡°All decisions have their prices, Lord Esila.¡± I offered earnestly, just as the lines in whatever magical RTS game happening in the background behind him were shifting. ¡°Indeed, as much as I appreciate your insight on this matter, this does raise the question¡ª¡± ¡°You backstabbed my third guard unit, Lord Etale!¡± ¡°Well, YOU lied to me about the shipment of grain, Lady Evrail!¡± I paused, momentarily distracted by the drama quickly manifesting in the background. ¡°¡ªwhy exactly do you seem to be more invested in me than most? Now, I¡¯m not saying I¡¯m not appreciative of course. I genuinely, and wholeheartedly, wish to form more bonds amidst an¡­ in your own words ¡ª nest of intrigue. However, I am merely curious.¡± ¡°Perhaps I see this as a risk worth taking, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± He offered with a twitch of his ears. ¡°Perhaps, I see that the benefits of discussing matters, of forming at the very least a working relationship, is now worth the potential risks following your elevation from a mere newrealmer, to a potential player in the game.¡± A momentary silence once more descended following that answer, as I paused to ponder the sincerity behind the ferret¡¯s voice, amidst the growing chaos and rapidly deteriorating battle-lines of the game behind him; towering high-rises and windmills alike, crumbling amidst a barrage of tiny magical missiles hurled to the tune of tiny mana radiation signatures. However, just before I could formulate an answer, a series of bells suddenly sounded above us, eliciting the attention of not just me and my gathered audience, but the rest of the room as well. It was around this time that the musical ensemble from one of the nooks came forward, carried aloft on a floating invisible platform, as the ¡®MC¡¯ began addressing everyone in the room. ¡°Princes and Princesses, Lords and Ladies¡­ newrealmer¡­ may I have your attention, please! The time for dinner has arrived! As a result, it would be our pleasure once again to serenade the end of today¡¯s mixer.¡± The ¡®MC¡¯ quickly turned towards the only other noble on stage, who just as quickly began performing. The question of just how a singular person would be able to play a quartet¡¯s worth of instruments quickly became clear, as disembodied white-gloved hands manifested out of nowhere, and began playing a sharp and whimsical tune. ¡°It stands to reason that perhaps fate has deemed our conversation stops here, at least for now, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Etholin offered. ¡°There¡¯s more you wanted to touch base on?¡± ¡°Y-yes. There is a proposition I wish to pose to you, on the matter of this weekend¡¯s sojourn into Elaseer, and on another matter more pertinent to your time here within the Academy and its many, many factions.¡± So that¡¯s what his angle is? ¡°If it¡¯s a simple nonbinding talk, then sure. Maybe tomorrow after class? Or maybe after Friday¡¯s PE class? As long as nothing else comes up of course.¡± ¡°Those are indeed acceptable time frames, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Etholin nodded deeply, before taking a few careful steps back. ¡°Till we meet again.¡± The sun had begun setting at this point, and as the music prepared to draw to a close, so too did everyone¡¯s formerly talkative spirits. The wrap-up process was somber, and was rather distinct for each of the little nooks within the lounge. The first nook, with Ilunor and Rostario, seemed to be tallying up some sort of a scoreboard that floated in mid air, far above the reaches of the pair¡¯s short little arms. The second nook however seemed to be dealing with a lot of cleanup work, as the animated paper birds, dragons, gryphons, and dragon-wyvern-gryphon hybrids were practically torn to shreds by the end of it. Whatever animated battle had transpired, I was apparently not privy to. But I made an immediate mental note to both myself and the EVI to focus on that nook the next time around. The third nook, the one I¡¯d seen towards the tail end of the mixer, was my main fixation at this point however; as the students here seemed to be tallying and wrapping up what was effectively a magically actualized version of a hybrid between a real-time strategy and a table-top roleplaying game. Except instead of holograms, they dealt with fully autonomous physical miniatures, small representations of anything from your archetypal knight to what looked to be a heavily armored¡­ dare I say it, renaissance looking APC¡­ if that was even a thing. I tended to stay away from fusion fantasy stories, being known as a stickler for minimally invasive crossover settings, so I¡¯d need to look this over with the EVI after work was done. Many of the miniatures however lie in tatters, mauled and torn apart across the mini battlefield. But just like the second nook, this mess didn¡¯t seem to be a problem; a series of magical spells restored every model back to their original condition. Though following the cleanup, I¡¯d expected the tensions from earlier to spiral into some form of a duel. Similar to how Ilunor and Rostario had seemingly been riled up from what amounted to a minor confrontation. This, surprisingly, didn¡¯t happen. Instead, and much to my surprise, the group just ended up shaking hands in a surprising display of sportsmanship. But while the first three nooks were rather straightforward, the fourth nook¡­ I just couldn¡¯t comprehend. Their incantations of darkness seemed to have brought about some sickening creature that disintegrated into what I could only describe as liquid shadow following the call for dinner. Which left only the fifth nook, who were essentially already packed up, with their musical instruments disappearing either into a burst of smoke or into a small dimensional rift-in-the-wall. That, I¡¯d need to investigate down the line. For now however, I turned towards the exit, towards the animated painting that had acted as the entryway to the space. One that had now just given up on all pretenses and opened up like a traditional door; exactly as I recalled it on the night of the warehouse explosion. ¡°So much for all the magical effort that goes into entering the place.¡± I groaned out, as I regrouped with the rest of the party, but not before Ilunor turned around for one final jab at the hamster. ¡°You¡¯re a guinea pig, Prince Rostarion!¡± He seethed, before seemingly out of nowhere, pulling a fruit that looked like a cross between a pineapple and a cantaloup out of his cloak. At which point, he lobbed it, directly towards the hamster who deflected it with a flick of his wrist. This led to what amounted to an impromptu tennis match that followed us from the lounge, into the halls, and even all the way down the stairs, before it finally came to an end at the end of an upper yearsman¡¯s wand. At which point, a few words were exchanged, and the pineapple found itself floating and following the Vunerian down and into the dining hall. It seemed to get closer and closer to his head, only halted when he turned around to glare at it. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t understand what¡¯s going on anymore, Ilunor.¡± I offered in an exasperated breath. ¡°It¡¯s humor, earthrealmer.¡± The Vunerian responded somehow pridefully, yet defeatedly at the same time. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 2000 Hours. Emma ¡°So what do you make of it?¡± I asked the gang after more or less divulging the entirety of my encounters during the little ¡®mixer¡¯, now that we¡¯d plopped ourselves down on the couch, with a cone of silence deployed for good measure. ¡°Lady Ladona was attempting to assert some level of social dominance and intimidation.¡± Thacea began, taking a sip of some tea she¡¯d ordered in from dinner. ¡°Whether or not that is at the behest of Lord Ping¡¯s request, or one committed on her own volition, does not detract from the fact that her actions are invariably representative of her peer group.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°To which Emma responded in the best way possible.¡± Thalmin offered with a snarky grin. ¡°Care to revisit that moment you stood your ground against her on your memory shard again, Emma?¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have to insist on moving forward with the conversation, Thalmin.¡± Thacea countered, prompting the lupinor to hold back and to simply shrug, urging the avinor to continue. ¡°The rest of the crowd seemed¡­ as you pointed out to Lord Esila, surprisingly accommodating all things considered. Though it¡¯s the encounter with Apprentice Arlan Ostoy that I am most worried about.¡± ¡°As am I.¡± I offered, prompting both of us to stare intently in deep thought. ¡°The man is obviously trying to halt the divulgence of hard evidence to your manaless existence.¡± Thalmin offered. ¡°But the enforcement aspect of it is nebulous at best.¡± Ilunor chimed in. ¡°I believe you will see further expansion upon this warning sooner rather than later. For now I believe it would be best if we heeded those warnings, especially considering the delicate situation we are already embroiled in.¡± I took a moment to take all of that advice in, pausing to consider my next course of action with that particular development. Exhaustion certainly wasn¡¯t something I¡¯d expected to feel this early on in the night. This was especially true when considering that all that had transpired was what amounted to a small social gathering. Though as my time with the Director had taught me, ¡®parties¡¯, and ¡®social events¡¯ were two very distinct things. With the latter being less of a party and more of a thinly veiled networking expo disguised under layers of booze, food, and whatever shiny distractions your budget could afford. But while the social mixer seemed to have opportunities for those to pursue their hobbies, namely in the little nooks¡­ the social event aspect of it was definitely still there. And as a result, it was still something I desperately wanted to recover from. Though given my track record¡­ ¡°INFIL-DRONE01a has returned-to-base, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡­ I should¡¯ve expected that work was going to rear back its ugly head somehow. Moreover, this was all part of the plan, after all. The expected downturn in activity was expectedly replaced with the anxiety-inducing apprehension of what was to come. ¡°Alright.¡± I announced, both towards the EVI, and outwardly towards the rest of the gang. ¡°The spy drone¡¯s back. Are you guys ready to see what¡¯s on it?¡± A series of nods quickly followed, with all eyes averting from the dragon-fly like drone currently docking itself back into my suit. I held my breath as the data began its tentative upload, a nagging feeling coiling from the back of my spine urged me to prepare for the worst. ¡°Alert. Probability of stealth compromisation and discovery at 50.27%. Isolate and play moment of stealth parameter endangerment?¡± And I just about let loose the largest sigh of internalized stress I¡¯ve released over the past 48 hours. This clearly brought on the attention of the rest of the group, as each of them leaned closer towards me. ¡°There¡¯s a near fifty-fifty chance we¡¯ve been found out.¡± I explained bluntly. ¡°But there¡¯s only one way to find out.¡± I quickly began setting up the tablet and its on-board projector, flipping it on its kickstand as the recorded footage started playing, zeroing in on the exact instance of mission endangerment. The footage revealed what appeared to be the same blank void from my long-winded journey towards the man¡¯s office. The blank unrendered walls, the shadowless bright white fixtures, and the floatiness of it all, made it clear exactly where we were. ¡°At least we¡¯re headed towards Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office.¡± I offered with a half-hearted laugh. However, as the footage continued, it quickly became clear to all of us that it wasn¡¯t just the apprentice that was on the prowl towards the black robed professor¡¯s offices. In fact, as the camera panned up, it became readily apparent exactly who had triggered the stealth alarm. As it became undeniably clear that the armorer of all people, was now side-eying the drone, cocking his head if only so slightly in the direction of its flightpath. Throughout all of this however, the apprentice remained locked in her own little world, as she continued talking about subject matters not particularly important, most of which simply related to the class and the more mundane aspects of teaching. ¡°This is bad.¡± Thalmin managed out first, sinking the bottom half of his face into his hands. However, just as those words were uttered, so too did the footage reveal something¡­ peculiar about Sorecar¡¯s unfettering gaze. He winked. Or at least, in his own little way, as a gleam of light reminiscent of a lens flare emanated from the left visor currently in view of the drone. All four of us just about lost it at that point. As Thacea turned towards me expectedly, looking up at me as if I had the answers. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m guessing¡­ I mean¡­ He¡¯s perceptive, I¡¯ll give him that. He¡¯s doing something none of the professors could do so far. Heck, not even the apprentice seems to notice. But that wink¡­ I guess¡­¡± I paused, before turning towards the EVI. ¡°EVI, any other instances of potential discovery?¡± ¡°Negative, Cadet Booker. This is the only recorded instance that surpasses the tolerable threshold.¡± I took a moment to sink into the armor. ¡°Well, this seems to be the only instance the drone caught anyone or anything else staring directly at it.¡± I explained to the group. ¡°Moreover, there were no instances in which Sorecar actually notified the apprentice about this it seems.¡± I continued, once more reviewing the EVI¡¯s risk of discovery reports. ¡°The man seems to be somewhat endeared to you, Emma.¡± Thacea reasoned. ¡°Yeah¡­ funny the way things turn out, huh?¡± I offered, before scrolling towards the start of the mission proper, and began playing. Everyone now became intently focused on the long stretches of silence as the apprentice and professor duo made their way from the class and towards the dark and imposing double doors of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office. It was here however, that the first words from the apprentice directly referencing the man were finally spoken. ¡°Well here we are.¡± Larial spoke through a tired sigh. ¡°The office of the great man himself.¡± Sorecar chuckled darkly, crossing his arms in the process. ¡°Well go on then. Be my guest, Apprentice.¡± To which the apprentice nodded, but instead of simply opening the door¡­ she grabbed what appeared to be a small notebook, turning to a page stamped entirely with seals and runes. She took a few steps forward, holding the book up, and outstretching her other hand in what amounted to the most archetypal image of a mage casting a spell I could ever dream up. ¡°Ars la tal te al¡­¡± She mumbled in rapid succession, looking visibly silly without my drone¡¯s ability to pick up manastreams due to its limited onboard sensors, and thus giving the gang a small slice of what it was like to see the world through my eyes. These mumblings however eventually resulted in the doors creaking open, slowly, but surely, and with great strain, being pushed inwards by an unseen force. ¡°That wasn¡¯t an Academy spell.¡± Sorecar noted accusingly. ¡°No, it wasn¡¯t.¡± Larial acknowledged cryptically, pocketing the book and stowing it away. ¡°You¡¯re playing a dangerous game, Apprentice.¡± The armorer spoke with a hint of ominous foreboding, visibly hesitant to cross the threshold and into Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office. ¡°I¡¯m merely carrying out my duties, and the last I checked, those who carry out their duties are impervious to the ministrations of the games fought amongst the issuers of said duties.¡± ¡°You see the world in black and white, Apprentice; a fatal misstep once one enters the throes of the game. And the longer you remain in this rat race, the sooner you will come to realize that you must pick a side. Lest you become a liability, or worse, be an intolerable threat to be dealt with.¡± Those words carried with it what seemed to be a genuine sense of care and concern. Though dour and colored with a severity I hadn¡¯t seen from the armorer so far. Part of me even felt like he could be speaking from experience. The apprentice only paused for a few seconds, her whole body freezing for a moment as if considering the very real looming threats. However, no sooner did that realization come did it also dissipate, as she let out a sigh, before pulling out a monocle from beneath her cloak. ¡°You speak as if I have a choice, Professor. Where in reality, the only choice I have is to resign or to obey. In which case, I have little choice at all.¡± Larial¡¯s eyes wavered as she said that, if only for a moment. ¡°My choice was made the moment I left the crownlands. Moreover, I try my best to see the light in this dire situation. I still see this responsibility as an opportunity for me to also work for myself.¡± ¡°So you do have aspirations for the black-robed position.¡± The professor surmised. ¡°No. Not particularly anyways. No, what I meant by my personal responsibilities¡­ is a debt that I must uphold.¡± ¡°A life debt, perchance?¡± The professor reasoned, prompting the apprentice to once more pause. ¡°A debt is a debt, which must be paid in full all the same.¡± She reasoned, before once more urging the man across the threshold. Sorecar did so with a nervous hop, as if preempting some sort of trap which never came. It was at this point that the pair became silent, as if in awe of the room they were now standing in. Everything about it¡­ was exactly the same as it was on that fateful night. From the dark and moody bookshelves that lined most of the walls, to the somber and almost mournful pieces of art, furniture, and knick-knacks that looked eerily fluid this time around. Moreover, the centerpiece of the whole room, that anatomical live-model of a dragon, remained exactly as it was. And even now¡­ I could swear that its eyes were staring at the sole occupants of the room, in a permanent expression of shock and dread. ¡°I assume you¡¯ve never been in the prime iteration of the man¡¯s offices before.¡± Sorecar reasoned, his gait becoming paradoxically more confident, whilst Larial¡¯s became more and more nervous. ¡°No. It would seem not.¡± She expressed through a tentative breath, closing the doors behind them, before going over practically every nook and cranny in the room with both her eyes, and a flight of magical gloved hands. ¡°It would seem as if he didn¡¯t trust me enough to allow me entry into his true domain.¡± ¡°Understandable.¡± Sorecar shrugged. ¡°But that begs the question, exactly how did you come across that seal-breaker?¡± ¡°As I said before, Professor. I¡¯ve been assigned this responsibility by three authorities simultaneously.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ the weak-willed young Vanavan?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± The apprentice nodded, now kneeling in front of the chair I¡¯d broken out of half a week ago. ¡°And the Dean as well, I imagine?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± She nodded again, this time placing her hand over top of the damaged chair, as if inspecting it for signs of tampering. ¡°And the third, the only one with the key to the prime iteration of the black-robed professor''s offices¡­ I assume this is a third party?¡± The apprentice finally paused at that latter question, though it wasn¡¯t clear if it was because she discovered something about the chair, or was more concerned about the question itself. ¡°Yes.¡± She finally responded after a tentative few seconds, moving over towards the back of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s desk. ¡°Am I correct to assume then, that this mysterious third party is some young and aspiring member of the inner guard? A Captain perhaps? Maybe even a Major?¡± ¡°I am not at liberty to discuss the nature of my superiors, Professor.¡± Larial concluded sternly, placing both of her hands atop of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s desk. ¡°But you just did.¡± Sorecar shot back with a tone of voice that could only be described as amused and cocky. ¡°I did so in the hopes of appeasing your curiosities, professor, to the point where perhaps you would be satisfied with two answers out of a total of three.¡± The apprentice responded with a hard sigh. ¡°And you just so happened to have chosen to stop at the mystery individual because that was perhaps the juiciest insight out of all three?¡± ¡°I stopped because that just so happens to be the third question on your roster, professor. Now please, I need a moment of concentration.¡± ¡°Apologies, apprentice.¡± The man craned his head down in a show of apologetics. The silence finally prompted Larial to bring out what looked to be a bespoke, intricately crafted, and fancifully adorned magnifying glass. One that was tastefully sized, and looked genuinely cool to hold with its cherry-oak handle and its gold and silver decals. I would¡¯ve killed to have something like that commissioned out-of-pocket for a Victorian steampunk cosplay. This, coupled with the monocle she had put on not a few moments prior, gave an almost period-appropriate air of some Sherlock Holmes flick; vibing quite well with the room¡¯s Victorian aesthetic. Even Sorecar of all people seemed to fit weirdly well, as some sort of an eccentric overly curious sidekick to the serious and strait-laced Detective Larial. These dynamic duo vibes would be further tested, as Sorecar continued pushing on his previous talking points. ¡°Though, forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds here¡­ but I do assume that the seal on your notebook belongs to the inner guard. Dare I say it, it reminds me of a sub-order within the guard, the Beholders of His Eternal Majesty, to be precise.¡± ¡°And what makes you think that, professor?¡± Larial shot back curiously, cocking her head, but still completely engrossed in whatever it was she was eyeing through that magnifying glass. ¡°This room we¡¯re in.¡± Sorecar gestured aggressively. ¡°This is its prime iteration, the real deal, the actual room, not a tertiary, let alone a secondary decoy to be accessed by a lesser seal or an attempt at physical trespassing. Now, for any other office within the castle walls, that access could easily be explained through the utilization of the Dean¡¯s seal. But for a black robed professor¡¯s office? Well¡­ you know as well as I, that no academic authority can grant you access into what is effectively the crownlands¡¯ consulate. I know for a fact, that the last time I entered a black-robed professor¡¯s office with the Dean¡¯s Seal, all I saw was the most unconvincing facsimile of the prime iteration.¡± ¡°I forget sometimes that you were once perhaps an apprentice as well, professor.¡± This attempt to connect with the apprentice through personal anecdotes seemed to work for a little bit, before something caused the warmth from the apprentice¡¯s face to fade entirely. ¡°What is it?¡± Sorecar urged, noticing the radical shift in their back and forths. No sooner was that question raised did an audible CLICK soon follow, and the sound of a desk drawer opening filled the stale and stagnant air soon after. From there, the now-silent apprentice cautiously pulled up two items from the unlocked drawer using some sort of levitation spell; only one of which I recognized from that fateful day. In one of her hands was the crystal ball I saw Mal¡¯tory stowing away prior to our conversation. And in the other, was a small notebook bound in bright green leather, one that prompted Ilunor¡¯s eyes to grow wide with worry. ¡°I believe I have found the last instance of the professor¡¯s personal correspondence to the crownlands.¡± She spoke, placing the crystal ball down on the professor¡¯s desk. ¡°And I also believe, I have found exactly what our dear Dean, and indeed¡­ my third party is looking for.¡± She placed the notebook on the table. ¡°A list¡­ containing a number of books marked as recommended reading material for the studious student¡­ all to be issued not by the school¡¯s library, but the Library.¡± ¡°None of those books are on the course¡¯s recommended reading material list, I imagine.¡± Sorecar responded darkly and facetiously. ¡°No. Not a single one, professor. Which can only mean one thing.¡± "We found The Library''s burned catalog." Chapter 83: Paper Trail Two items ¡ª a crystal ball, and a green leather-bound notebook ¡ª sat benignly and idly atop of the black-robed professor¡¯s desk. The camera lingered on them, giving them what most may see as an undeserved moment in the spotlight. But to those that knew, to the parties invested in this controversy, this little pause and dramatic zoom-in was accompanied by a hair-raising excitement¡­ along with an untempered nervousness for what was to come. It definitely caused the investigative duo on the other side of the screen some pause for thought; prompting them to stand intently, pondering both the orb and the notebook. Ilunor, as far as I could tell, was entranced by the green notebook in particular. Though it wasn¡¯t a trance born out of any positive emotion, but instead, one of abject horror. ¡°Recommended Reading Materials for the Studious Student.¡± Sorecar announced with a steady breath, prompting Ilunor to visibly flinch in his seat, as the man reached a finger over to point at the hand-scrawled title of the leather-bound notebook. That finger soon found itself carefully manipulating its pages, opening the cover first, before turning over the internal dust-cover to reveal letters and symbols written in High Nexian, but arranged in a manner the EVI simply could not translate. ¡°Error: Unable to Translate. Cause: Unrecognized and/or unintelligible organization of local script-forms.¡± Yet despite this, it seemed as if both Sorecar and the Apprentice were able to draw something from its otherwise senseless pages. As despite being written haphazardly, with letters and pictograms arranged in no meaningful order, they were able to still draw meaning where the EVI couldn¡¯t. ¡°Within these pages lie materials for the studious student. Materials are to be found within The Library, and are to be retrieved with great haste. May you make swift work of their contents, and may those after you find only ash in your wake. Seek, unlearn, and remove from the grip of the eternal entity, that which was once a gift but is now a curse. Seek, unlearn, and remove; with the fires of your passion, oh studious student.¡± Sorecar read aloud, managing to read something verbatim from the nonsensical pages of the book. Ilunor¡¯s eyes were practically glazed over at this point, as he began bringing his cape over across his chest, tucking his legs towards his chin in the process. ¡°This is it.¡± The apprentice announced with a half-cracked smile. ¡°Please, keep going. I¡¯m certain your skills of appraisal far exceed my own, Professor.¡± Sorecar obliged by flipping the page, turning over to two pages of complete gibberish, once again watermarked by the EVI¡¯s error message; but proving no challenge at all for the ever-inquisitive professor. ¡°Section One, A Tainted Reality: A Wretched Collection of Historical Affidavits During the Reconciliation and Reformation of Otherwise Lost Realities.¡± Sorecar paused, before turning towards the apprentice. ¡°It lists an entire section¡¯s worth of books, in titles held within spatial positions with reference to their potentialities within the ever-evolving library.¡± Thacea¡¯s features visibly flinched at that revelation, but similar to the apprentice in the footage, she refused to comment. At least not for now. Her eyes however betrayed a look of mild distress, which subsided somewhat as the apprentice urged the armorer to continue. Which he did, as he flipped from page to page across the relatively small notebook, only pausing to read in between what he interpreted to be different sections and ¡®chapters¡¯. ¡°Section Two. The Unspoken War and the Treacherous Alliance.¡± ¡°Section Three. All surviving works from Alaroy Rital.¡± The apprentice cocked her head, as if trying to recall some familiarity in that name. ¡°Alaroy Rital.¡± She repeated. ¡°I don¡¯t recall hearing of such a name before.¡± ¡°Well his full name, as far as I recall, and vastly aided by the book is as follows: Alaroy Rital, Lord-Mayor of the Township of the Two Rivers, Slayer of the Dragon of the Grey Canyon, Repeller of the Tainted Blight of the Orsin, Liberator of the Aether, and Grand Master of the Elusian Guild Hall of Adventurers.¡± Sorecar responded succinctly, prompting the apprentice to once more clench her eyes shut in deep thought, before finally letting out a sigh of defeat. ¡°The name is both familiar yet foreign at the same time.¡± She finally admitted. ¡°As far as I recall, and mind you, my memory of those years are far from perfect¡­ the man was a local hero of sorts. Though his record was besmirched by some controversy or another.¡± Sorecar offered, prompting the apprentice to finally shrug, giving up on this particular subject matter entirely. ¡°There are more sections, yes?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°Then let¡¯s move on.¡± Sorecar nodded promptly at that, flipping the pages over until he hit the next section. ¡°Section Four. A Sordid Account of the Most Bizarre of Newrealmer Arrivals: A Death By Harmonization and the Ensuing Investigation.¡± That immediately got my attention, causing me to jolt forwards, prompting the armor to quickly follow as it automatically switched from the currently active in-armor-postural-readjustment mode, and back into its active configuration. ¡°Section Five. The Unfortunate Procedures Against Unruly Realms and the Instances in Which Such Procedures Were Incurred.¡± The armorer paused after that, not necessarily due to its contents, but as if puzzled by what lay ahead in the next few final pages. In fact, he flipped back and forth between the pages soon after that, treading and retreading what were effectively the last five pages of the book. ¡°There is an appendix which includes titles not covered by these sections, however it will take some time to read through them.¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough for now, professor.¡± The apprentice offered, prompting the man to quickly pull back, closing the notebook with an unsatisfying thump. ¡°We have our glowing wand.¡± The apprentice surmised. ¡°The oeuvre of works which are no doubt the subject of this grand controversy. Now all we need to find is the contract which ties everything together.¡± ¡°I¡¯m assuming you haven¡¯t forgotten about our second item of interest?¡± Sorecar gestured towards the crystal ball. ¡°Of course not, professor. However, the fact we¡¯ve found that book implies that we must be close to its dependent article.¡± The apprentice responded with a renewed sense of urgency, as she began using that same ornate magnifying glass in an attempt to further pick apart each and every nook and cranny of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s desk. Part of me wanted to make some joke about how this was every unpaid intern¡¯s dream, to be rummaging through your boss¡¯ stuff. But that part of me was completely buried underneath the confusion and dread that came with the revelations from within that little green book. I¡­ honestly didn¡¯t know what I was expecting, but I felt like I¡¯d been suckerpunched, with the wind being knocked right out of me from the implications of exactly what had been selectively purged from the library. It was a struggle to process it all, which more or less made me dull out the more eccentric aspects of the apprentice¡¯s investigation; as she unlocked drawer after drawer, pulling out pile after pile of magical nicknacks and more documents than what was possible from that finite amount of space. Sorecar was clearly of the same opinion as the rest of us right now however, as he continued obsessing over the book, his hands once more trailing over to inspect its cryptic pages. The man seemed transfixed on the second and third sections in particular, though his featureless visor made it difficult to really pin down what his reactions were. Yet throughout all of this, it was clear the reactions on the homefront were much, much more animated, as Ilunor was just about ready to pass out from the stress, and Thacea seemed about ready to burst at the seams if her featureless facade was of any indication. ¡°That was the book.¡± Ilunor finally chimed out, just as the narration through the recording had died down during the more tepid phase of the apprentice¡¯s investigation. ¡°I know it.¡± ¡°I thought your memories when it came to the whole Mal¡¯tory book burning situation was lost, Ilunor?¡± Thalmin countered. ¡°It was. I mean, it still is. But I remember parts of that room. I vaguely recall the emergence of a book that I was forced to¡­¡± The Vunerian trailed off, as if struggling to piece together words. ¡°... to sign?¡± Thalmin offered in a surprisingly helpful tone which stood at odds with how he earlier regarded the Vunerian. ¡°No. No you imbecil-¡± The Vunerian paused, realizing his misstep as he backtracked from what would¡¯ve otherwise been an expected response. ¡°That wasn¡¯t a book of binding. It¡¯s not comparable to the yearbook, if that was where your assumptions were leading to, Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor clarified, gripping the armrests of his seat tight between his fingers. It was about this point in time that I expected Thacea to chime in, to elaborate on the nature of the book with her encyclopedic knowledge on seemingly every aspect of the magical world. But she didn¡¯t. Instead, her eyes remained practically glued to the screen, as I realized that whatever had been revealed thus far had hit much, much harder than I could¡¯ve imagined. Ilunor, as if taking note of this silence, elected to fill in for Thacea. ¡°The book¡­ is an adjacent artifact. It is, as the apprentice has noted, an eclectic oeuvre of works, a list if you will, to be bound to and referenced by a contract and a spell of binding. The book itself isn¡¯t the binding agent, moreso the reference material by which the contract is hinged upon.¡± ¡°So what¡¯s with the illegible text? Are they ciphers or some magical equivalent of it?¡± I gestured once more at the bird¡¯s eye view offered by the drone, and the pages of indecipherable text currently beneath Sorecar¡¯s hands. ¡°Those are anchor runes, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor answered with a frustrated sigh. ¡°It is frustrating to see them for what they are not. Frankly, it¡¯s as if your sight-seers and memory-shards were designed to mimic the world as it is seen through the eyes of a particularly weak-fielded commoner.¡± The Vunerian went off, venting his frustrations through a rant before finally calming down. ¡°But I digress. Those runes are referred to as anchors for a reason. For tethered to them are akin to pages of text to be openly read and deciphered within the manastreams. Granted, this form of writing is not common; moreso used for the purposes of contracts and other such magical binds.¡± ¡°And on the topic of contracts. I¡¯m assuming that the contract¡­ your contract, is what the Apprentice is currently rummaging for?¡± I gestured towards the screen once more, at the apprentice who was now buried ankle-deep in piles upon piles of books, documents, and an assortment of scrolls that criss-crossed across the room¡¯s mahogany and carpeted floors. ¡°Unless she¡¯s a complete nitwit, then I¡¯d imagine so, yes.¡± Ilunor responded with his signature cattiness. ¡°In any case, the fact she¡¯s even trying proves that she¡¯s barely above a fool anyways.¡± The Vunerian shrugged. ¡°And before you ask, earthrealmer, let me preempt your question. The contract, at least on the professor¡¯s end, has more than likely suffered the same fate as my own. Namely, its existence is more than certain to be dubious at best. What the apprentice will surely find will be nothing more than ash at the bottom of that bottomless drawer. Which¡­ given its sheer size and scale, and the potential inhabitants within its limitless confines, will more than likely result in even ash being difficult if not impossible to find.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. There was¡­ more than one point I wanted to raise with Ilunor¡¯s statements. However, before I could address any of them, the elf in question finally spoke up once more; now surrounded by an entire archive¡¯s worth of documents and nicknacks. ¡°Nothing.¡± Larial spoke with a sullen breath, taking a moment to steady herself as she made a point of not sitting on Mal¡¯tory¡¯s chair. ¡°At least nothing that¡¯s relevant to our case.¡± She continued, resting her palms flat against the green suede of the desk. ¡°Were you really expecting anything different, Apprentice?¡± Sorecar countered, having since moved from pondering the pages of the book to now pondering the depths of the crystal ball. ¡°I¡¯d assumed the damage to the man hadn¡¯t been so severe.¡± Larial admitted, alluding to something else that drew all of our collective attention. ¡°When I first saw him in the healing ward¡­ he looked¡­ intact. You couldn¡¯t even tell there was anything wrong with him.¡± ¡°And yet they called you of all people, to aid in the ritual.¡± The armorer surmised, with a tone of voice that now more resembled that of a fully fledged Academy Professor. His happy go lucky persona had subsided completely, at least for now, as he addressed Larial in a manner more akin to what I¡¯d expected of the Dean. ¡°You have been around the Academy for long enough to understand that calling upon the aid of apprentices is unprecedented. Which means that despite how things may seem on the surface, that lurking beneath the seemingly calm waters, is a hydrostorm of epic proportions.¡± ¡°This entire situation is unprecedented, professor.¡± Larial countered meekly. ¡°But you are correct. It¡­ must have been desperate if they required the aid of apprentices. I just¡­ cannot fathom the fact that the professors must have¡­¡± The apprentice trailed off, her face scrunching up and breaking eye contact with the armorer as if too skittish to broach the next point. Sorecar didn¡¯t reply, nor did he complete her sentence for her, simply allowing her to recuperate and reorganize her thoughts herself. ¡°... brought the man back from the brink.¡± She managed out, offering what was in effect a euphemism that didn¡¯t seem to sit right with the armorer, if his immediate head cock was of any indication. ¡°That is the only way you can explain the complete loss of a contract.¡± Sorecar reasoned. ¡°You were hoping to find it, despite knowing well that it, amongst the rest of his contracts, have more than likely gone up in flames.¡± It was around that point that he walked around behind the desk, and reached down into the drawer the apprentice had been searching in. His arm sank impossibly deep, deeper than what should have been physically possible inside of that small and limited space. After a few moments, the man finally brought his hand back up, holding within it what appeared to be fine specks of ash that he allowed to filter back down into the dark depths of the seemingly bottomless drawer. ¡°And there you have it ¡ª ash. Most of it has no doubt already been consumed by the bottom-feeders. However, what remains is enough to account for what is perhaps more contracts than most would form in their lives.¡± The man stood back up soon after, before once more taking his place at the front of the desk. ¡°Well, I believe that answers our prior speculations on Auris Ping¡¯s potential relations, contractual or otherwise, with Professor Mal¡¯tory.¡± Thalmin growled out, punctuating the moment of silence within the footage; which soon continued with a resonant sigh from the apprentice. ¡°I guess, in a way, I was trying to find the contract not so much because of my assigned task, but because I wanted to perhaps prove to myself that the situation wasn¡¯t as dire as my intuition leads me to believe. The loss of all these contracts can only mean one thing.¡± Larial paused, once more trying to find the strength inside of her to face whatever facts were self-evident in this case. ¡°The man was lost.¡± She finally managed out through a shaky breath. ¡°His soul must have departed from his mortal coil. And yet¡­¡± ¡°... and yet he remains.¡± Sorecar surmised. ¡°They must have re-tethered it before I arrived that night.¡± The apprentice shot back. ¡°But I felt nothing different when they asked me to aid in the mana-channeling processes. This whole situation is just¡­¡± She sighed, prompting Sorecar to cock his head. ¡°Unprecedented?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± The apprentice once more admitted, sinking her face into her hands and taking a moment to process it all, more or less falling into the same camp all of us were currently in. ¡°Moreover, it brings up a very disturbing question.¡± ¡°Which is?¡± ¡°If his soul was truly untethered, even for a split second¡­ how exactly were they able to retether it? Or more specifically, through what means are they using to permanently retether his soul to his mortal coil?¡± This question seemed to cause some level of concern from Sorecar, as his answer soon demonstrated. ¡°There are¡­ ways of doing so that aren¡¯t exclusive to being spellbound to armor.¡± The man offered under a dour breath. ¡°Especially if the body is¡­ fresh, in a manner of speaking. Though it requires the use of-¡± He stopped, halting himself from going down what was clearly a darkening path. ¡°I apologize for prompting this rather¡­ dark and dreary subject matter, Apprentice.¡± Sorecar offered, as that empathetic, kinder side of him returned without much prompting. ¡°It¡¯s quite alright. It¡­ it needed to be said, if we are to complete this investigation with any degree of professionalism.¡± The apprentice concluded with a small smile. ¡°Whatever the case may be, it is clear that we are unable to procure the contract through which the perpetrator of the library¡¯s burning was bound. We have, however, undeniable proof of Professor Mal¡¯tory¡¯s involvement with the scandal.¡± She pointed at the green notebook. ¡°And of course, a potential interloper who may or may not have been a part of this conspiracy; thereby expanding this from a mere Academy matter, to one which could implicate others beyond its walls.¡± She pointed at the crystal ball. ¡°Have you discovered anything from your observations thus far, Professor?¡± The apprentice inquired, prompting the man to nod, as he knelt down to eye-level, pondering the orb from desk-height. ¡°The inherent limitations of the Echovale make it so that it¡¯s near impossible to transcribe anything following the cessation of a communique.¡± Sorecar began. ¡°Though of course, you knew this, and hoped that because I am perhaps one of the greatest armorers to have ever lived, that I would be able to aid in this impossible endeavor, hmm?¡± The armorer¡¯s tone of voice had more or less resumed that flighty, happy-go-lucky one I knew him for. The apprentice, hearing this, could only smile awkwardly in response. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have put it that¡­ bluntly, professor. But I do indeed have faith in your ability to make the impossible, well¡­ probable, at the least.¡± ¡°Hmph! Well, I couldn¡¯t pin a face or a name, but I was able to pin a definite location if that helps.¡± The man offered. ¡°Any stray piece of information will help tremendously, professor.¡± ¡°The Crownlands.¡± He answered without a hint of hesitation, prompting the Apprentice to raise both of her brows up high. ¡°That¡¯s as far as I am able to draw from the residual echoes within the vale.¡± He tapped at the ball, generating a series of satisfying clinks in the process. ¡°So the man wasn¡¯t acting alone. Or rather, perhaps he was consulting someone.¡± The apprentice pondered. ¡°Then again, that final communique could very well be with Lord Lartia¡ª¡± The apprentice paused, before placing both palms softly across her throat. ¡°¡ªmay his soul rest in peaceful slumber.¡± Following another moment of silence, the apprentice¡¯s hands soon shifted towards the ball. ¡°In any case, if it isn¡¯t Lord Lartia, then who could it possibly be? Maybe we should¡­¡± The apprentice suddenly stopped; as if realizing the dangers of diving any deeper into this growing conspiracy. ¡°No.¡± She quickly corrected herself. ¡°Whatever the case may be, this is probably now completely out of my purview. I was assigned to collect any evidence I deemed to be relevant to recent happenings, and I believe this should suffice.¡± ¡°Whatever you believe is best, apprentice.¡± Sorecar acquiesced, prompting the apprentice to slowly, but surely, pack the archive¡¯s worth of documents, books, and scrolls all back into the drawer using nothing but telekinetic spells. This left just the crystal ball, and the little green book, both of which the apprentice promptly pocketed into a small pouch, before placing it somewhere beneath her cloak. ¡°Though on that note¡­¡± Sorecar began, pointing towards the apprentice¡¯s cloak. ¡°If I may ask, how do you plan on divvying up these finite pieces of evidence?¡± This caught the apprentice off-guard, as her mouth opened, but no response came through. ¡°Moreover, are you even obligated to hand in this evidence? Or are you only expected to write a report to all parties involved?¡± Sorecar continued, pressing the matter further, causing the apprentice to stop mid-stride. ¡°Because if primary evidence isn¡¯t explicitly required, might I offer my services as a master forger?¡± The man spoke with a hint of mischievousness, the duality of the word perhaps translating equally well despite the language barrier. ¡°I may need to contact my superiors to ask if a¡­ copy will be satisfactory to their needs. I believe not, but¡­ we shall see. In any case, I am due to submit the evidence along with my report no later than the end of next week. As such, this should give me ample time to organize my findings, which is especially convenient given the roster of duties I am expected to cover over the next few days.¡± The apprentice took a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose, halting her rambles as she steadied herself with a sigh. ¡°But I digress, I believe I will take you up on that offer, Professor Pliska.¡± ¡°It would be my pleasure to welcome you into my domain, apprentice.¡± The rest of the footage consisted of small talk between the pair, with nothing in particular standing out as the topics being addressed soon turned from high-stakes espionage, and back into faculty banter. Yet despite that, none of us broke the silence that now dominated the boring trip back. Not even as the footage came to a complete stop, and there was nothing more left to play. I leaned back against the armor, eliciting a series of creaks from the couch below me, echoing across the high-ceilinged room and disrupting the tentative peace that came with this ominous silence. ¡°This explains¡­ a lot.¡± Thalmin offered, finally breaking the silence with a tentative tone of voice. ¡°It explains your contract, and its abrupt cessation.¡± He continued, turning towards Ilunor. ¡°It explains Mal¡¯tory, or at least, his current lack of public appearances. And it reveals to us exactly what he was trying to hide from you, Emma.¡± The lupinor eventually turned towards me. ¡°And I think the sections of the library, selectively pruned, are self-explanatory as well.¡± ¡°Section four, and section five, at least.¡± I replied shortly thereafter. ¡°I have no idea who or what Alaroy Rital has to hide in section three, and don¡¯t even get me started on section two, let alone section one.¡± It was at that point that I turned towards Thacea, who let out a sharp exhale upon me bringing up section one. ¡°The removal of all information relevant to¡­ and I quote ¡ª Tainted Realities ¡ª speaks volumes to the inherent fears of the Nexus. Though I know not what specifically they may fear from your discovery of its deep and now-lost lore.¡± Thacea offered through a pensive gaze. ¡°There are many rumors, legends that come with the phrase Tainted Reality. Though most are mythical; epics of long lost eras that dwell between the blurry line that exists between history and legend. Perhaps the records within the library were pieces of irrefutable evidence that would¡¯ve shed light on this nebulous subject matter. But even so¡­ that begs the question¡­ why? Why would they hide what is effectively a non-issue when it comes to your discovery of its lore? Taint, and more specifically, the concept of a Tainted Reality, is something that is inconsequential in the contemporary world. Its history, even if it proves to be true, is neither a disruptive political element, nor a practical tool for war, that could be used in countering the Nexus.¡± The avinor¡¯s explanations were clear, concise, and yet they belied something personal that she clearly wasn¡¯t broaching. And I wasn¡¯t about to dig either, not when this topic very clearly hit close to home for her. ¡°This leaves the second subject matter then.¡± I offered, giving the avinor an off-ramp towards a potentially more palatable topic. ¡°The Unspoken War and the Treacherous Alliance?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± I nodded. ¡°That¡­ I have no knowledge of.¡± The avinor admitted, prompting me to turn to both the lupinor and the Vunerian for answers. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me, earthrealmer, I¡¯m the one who lost all memories on the subject, remember?¡± Ilunor countered. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m as in the dark as you are on this one, Emma.¡± Thalmin replied with a loud huff, leaving me with perhaps more questions than answers at this point. ¡°Right then.¡± I nodded. ¡°Well, regardless, as disquieting, confusing, and disturbing as these revelations have been, they are exactly that ¡ª revelations.¡± I took a moment to stand up, resting both hands on my hips, as if adopting Ilunor¡¯s more theatrical approach to things. ¡°We started today off with no intel on Mal¡¯tory, with no idea how we were going to complete The Library¡¯s Seekership questline, and no knowledge on exactly where we stood in this game. We¡¯re ending today off with a firm grasp on exactly what we need to do, what exactly was scorched in the library, and a tentative understanding on Mal¡¯tory¡¯s fate. I¡¯d say that¡¯s an incredible step forward, even if the answers we now have are leading to even more questions.¡± ¡°Reality is often filled with disturbing truths, but only when we acknowledge them, can we act to change them.¡± Thacea offered. ¡°Hear, hear!¡± Thalmin reaffirmed through a firm stomp, standing up tall and ready. ¡°While certain revelations come as disappointments¡­ namely the survival of Professor Mal¡¯tory¡­ it is indeed somewhat satisfying to hear that the man is at the very least suffering for his actions.¡± The little thing spoke maliciously, as he too stood up. This prompted a look of worry to form amidst all three of us, but instead of reacting accordingly, he instead displayed an expression of confusion. ¡°What? The man was a monster! He actively antagonized not only me, but this entire group! Surely you also feel at least some sense of satisfaction at the consequences of his actions catching up to him!¡± ¡°The delight in an enemy¡¯s defeat, best comes from the resistance of the blade against his body. Not from the suffering incurred from happenstance.¡± Thalmin countered, whilst Thacea and I refused to entertain that line of thought, as I quickly placed a palm across my forehead, bonking it once again in the process. ¡°Right, well, here¡¯s the game plan. We now have a clear target to complete our first objective ¡ª the notebook. We grab that, hand it in to the library, and presto, we accomplish the Seekership questline. Now comes the difficult part¡­ how exactly do we do that?¡± I turned to the group, as offers and suggestions finally came flying in. ¡°Take advantage of your life debt?¡± Ilunor offered. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t take advantage of that card just yet, Ilunor. Not if we have other options.¡± Thacea countered. ¡°What if we steal it?¡± Thalmin proposed. ¡°Thievery isn¡¯t a diplomatic approach, Thalmin.¡± Thacea shot back with a glare. ¡°Well, Emma here was able to grapple her way, through manaless means, across the outside of the castle towards the apprentice whilst she was in the medical wing. I¡¯m sure we can pull something else off in a similar capacity!¡± The lupinor countered. ¡°No, Thalmin. As much as I would like to try, I believe it might be best if we try a more diplomatic approach.¡± I offered, prompting the three to cock their heads. ¡°We could just ask, right?¡± Chapter 84: Galvanized Composalite ¡°No, Emma. We cannot just ask.¡± Thacea responded with a look of complete and utter befuddlement. Her features were, for lack of a better term, one that bordered on sheer incredulousness, as if she wasn¡¯t expecting to hear that as my serious suggestion for this very-serious mission. ¡°Or more accurately, I believe it will depend on exactly who it is you wish to ask, Emma.¡± The princess quickly clarified, placing both of her hands tight against her temples, rubbing them in circular, clockwise motions. ¡°I mean, I was just hoping to ask the apprentice-¡± I offered, before the realization suddenly hit me, and I realized with every fiber of my being exactly why Thacea had reacted so viscerally to that proposal. In fact I could just about see the glint of relief in Thacea¡¯s eyes the moment I realized the massive hole in my otherwise straightforward plan; as if she saw right through me by virtue of my body language and tone of voice alone. ¡°No, sorry, that¡¯s actually a really really bad idea now that I say it out loud.¡± I admitted with a heavy sigh. ¡°It¡¯d be giving away the fact that we somehow learned of the existence of the green notebook, not to mention the fact that we somehow, through some inexplicable means, know that it¡¯s in the apprentice¡¯s possession.¡± ¡°Which would undoubtedly give away one of your greatest advantages¡ª¡± Ilunor paused, before making an effort of pointing at my armor¡¯s obscured drone-bay slots. ¡°¡ªyour manaless means of subterfuge and espionage.¡± The Vunerian enunciated every syllable, narrowing his eyes as he did so, as if to catch a stray sight of one of my already-docked drones. ¡°Which at best, could lead to countermeasures being developed for it, thus nullifying one of your greatest assets. Or at worst¡­ leading to the discovery of the drone you left behind in the Dean¡¯s offices.¡± ¡°Moreover¡­¡± Thacea continued, taking over from Ilunor¡¯s surprisingly valid points. ¡°... should the apprentice be unable to deduce the existence of your manaless means of espionage, she will naturally resort to the most reasonable explanation, the most obvious cause of this breach of information security; the only other person who knows of the green book-¡± ¡°-Sorecar.¡± I completed Thacea¡¯s words for her, prompting her to nod firmly in response. ¡°Correct. And I probably need not explain the ramifications of either of these possibilities.¡± The princess concluded, eliciting a sigh from myself and a pat on the shoulder from Thalmin. ¡°Being direct and forthright is a noble endeavor, Emma. However, given the circumstances through which we discovered this vital piece of information, such a path simply is not viable for the procurement of our artifact.¡± The lupinor spoke reassuringly, making a point to ¡®shake¡¯ my otherwise unshakable shoulder, which the EVI seemed to respond appropriately by at least mimicking some range of motion so as to lessen my otherwise stout and unmovable demeanor. ¡°I appreciate the input, guys.¡± I bobbed my head with understanding, before moving forward with another plan, undaunted by the conceptual shortsightedness of the last. ¡°So with the apprentice out of the picture, I guess that leaves only one other option.¡± I paused for dramatic effect, a small part of me realizing that much to my horror, that the Vunerian¡¯s propensity for theatrics was more than likely rubbing off on me now. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to ask Sorecar for it.¡± This proposal sent Thacea into another pensive look of introspection. ¡°There are inherent risks to being so direct, Emma. However, should you wish to approach this matter directly, I believe the man would be our best option moving forward.¡± The princess acknowledged with a confident nod. ¡°Do you have any objections to it?¡± I shot back eagerly, leaning in more than I would¡¯ve out-of-armor, the exaggerated movements something that were becoming second nature to me, despite a nagging part of me feeling a sense of longing to be able to properly emote again. ¡°Not necessarily objections per se, merely¡­ a cautious concern over Professor Pliska¡¯s spellbound ties to the Academy.¡± Thacea responded curtly. ¡°I would suggest a roundabout means of procuring the notebook from the man, such that if pressed for answers, he could potentially provide half-truths or indirect answers which may sufficiently satisfy superficial questioning.¡± ¡°So¡­ the Princess Dilani treatment then.¡± I responded cheekily, trying to inject some levity into the situation with a sly little jab at the princess¡¯... overly wordy propensity. Her reactions however, were once again, something bordering the flustered and the unamused. Though it was perhaps important to note that it did come in that order. ¡°I erm, meant no offense by that of course! I just meant to say that well, you know, you¡¯re able to¡­ you have an incredible knack for just¡­ well¡­¡± I stuttered awkwardly, moving an arm back to once again find itself bonking the backside of my helmet before I could stop myself. ¡°... I just wanted to compliment you on your ability to find really effective social workarounds similar to how you were able to hold that shadowy-faced apprentice for so long during the whole medical wing saga where you kept him busy for hours and well-¡± ¡°I understand, and appreciate the roundabout attempt at levity through leveraging positive reinforcement, Emma.¡± Thacea cut me off before I could go any further, giving me an off-ramp on an otherwise endless highway to ramble town. ¡°I¡­ appreciate the gesture all the same.¡± She quickly added with a flustered smile. ¡°Yeah, I couldn¡¯t have put it better, Thacea.¡± I offered with an awkward laugh, before turning back towards the two unamused onlookers. ¡°With that being said, do you guys have any other ideas or¡­¡± I trailed off, awkwardly divesting the floor to the pair. ¡°Professor Pliska is the most obvious route to take given the circumstances.¡± Ilunor surmised with a shrug. ¡°Though I doubt the earthrealmer has what it takes to play the game, it is still firmly her responsibility to secure that book. I¡­ would rather not participate in parlaying with the man.¡± ¡°I still believe that simply taking the book from the apprentice is the most sure-fire way of going about this, Emma.¡± Thalmin countered. ¡°At this point, we¡¯re relying on the Apprentice¡¯s trust in the armorer¡¯s ability to create copies of the green book. There could be a thousand different things that could happen between now, and our attempt to request that book from the armorer. It is with that in mind that I suggest a mission to procure the book through more direct means.¡± ¡°You have a point there Thalmin.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°But I still think we should at least try the least invasive option, before stepping up and escalating our game.¡± ¡°It¡¯s your personal quest, Emma.¡± Thalmin responded with a disappointed sigh, as if expecting my opinions to have changed from his urging. ¡°I will not infringe on the way in which you conduct your battles. Though I hope you understand that should things evolve beyond a simple skirmish and into an all-out war, I will not hesitate to act in the best way I see fit.¡± ¡°I appreciate the sentiments, Thalmin.¡± I nodded respectfully and with a smile. ¡°So with all that being said, considering it¡¯s like¡­ nearly twenty-three hundred hours now. Perhaps we should start this mission first thing after class tomorrow-¡± KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK A series of four, distinct, anxiety-inducing knocks threw what should have been a neat conclusion to this straightforward mission preparation right out of the window. I was, once again, thrown for a complete loop; my mind struggled to decide whether or not I wanted to panic, dread, or simply let loose a series of tired and exhausted cry-laughs at the appearance of yet another unexpected wrench being thrown into the plans. However, I soon settled on one emotion that perhaps arose out of how frequent these interruptions were becoming ¡ª annoyance. Though it was clear that this late-night house call definitely didn¡¯t elicit that same response from everyone else, as a look of worry descended on all three faces. ¡°Another compulsory assembly announcement?¡± I offered through a languished smile. ¡°Or perhaps the immediate consequences of your overeager eavesdropping escapades.¡± Ilunor responded darkly and almost immediately, as the already-pale blue of his scales were drained of their color. A pit quickly formed in my stomach as a result. Whilst the two others remained still, refusing to respond. At least, not with words. As Thacea and Thalmin suddenly stood up at practically the same time, eyes poised towards the door. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡± Thalmin offered, nodding curtly towards both me and Thacea. We both glanced at each other for a few short seconds, as the wild flurry of knocks erupted anew. ¡°You sure, Thalmin?¡± I stood up, putting my own hat in the ring. ¡°Yes.¡± He nodded. ¡°It would be unbecoming of me to allow myself to sit this one out again. So, please, allow me.¡± The prince urged with a cocksure grin, taking that long walk towards the door¡­ before opening it without much in the way of any fanfare. There wasn¡¯t a single hint of hesitation at all, only a slight hint of frustration clearly born of tiredness, as the door was swung so fiercely that the figure on the other side of the door actually stepped back out of shock. ¡°Ah! Well what do we have here then?! A new face to a familiar door?! Prince Thalmin Havenbrock, of Havenbrockrealm if I recall correctly?¡± The ever-enthusiastic, exceedingly-overdressed, and forever-on-duty Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second announced with a somehow tired yet ecstatic fervor. ¡°Yes.¡± Thalmin replied bluntly, and with a no-nonsense baritone voice. ¡°Now, did you need something from us? Because I can¡¯t for the life of me think of a good enough reason why you would arrive in the dead of the night to disrupt our points of personal privilege.¡± The lupinor practically growled at the man, venting his frustrations in a way that clearly showed how done he was with everything. ¡°I understand and empathize with your grievances, however I must¡ª¡± ¡°Just get on with it.¡± Thalmin interjected, his tone somehow managing to stay perfectly balanced between noble politeness and flat-out aggression. ¡°Alright, very well, no need to be so informal ¡ª I¡¯d appreciate some respect for the uniform¡­ I have a letter.¡± The man moved to grab a sealed envelope, one with a rather ostentatious looking seal. ¡°From the dean himself, addressed to one Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The man shot a glance into the room, only to be blocked by Thalmin who took a step forward, more or less taking up the entirety of the open door frame at this point. His height, which stood at a good five or so inches above that of the apprentice, made for a formidable barrier that put the elf at a clear disadvantage. ¡°If you would be so kind as to hand this to her, I will be on my dutiful way, Prince Havenbrock.¡± The man offered the letter up to the prince¡­ who promptly snatched it with the frustration of a 27th century extrasolar corpo colonist being handed another pile of redundant paperwork. ¡°I will.¡± Was Thalmin¡¯s simple response, before stepping back. ¡°Alright, off I g¡ª¡± And closing the door with a satisfying CLUNK! He didn¡¯t go so far as to commit to an Ilunor slam¡­ but perhaps that was for the best. ¡°A letter from the Dean, huh?¡± I offered, extending my hand upwards to anticipate Thalmin¡¯s handing over of the ornately decorated piece of mail. I didn¡¯t even hesitate unsealing it, cracking it open, and clawing at the contents within. ¡°Let¡¯s see what crap he has in store for us now¡­¡± I spoke cautiously, my eyes scanning the instantaneous translation offered by the EVI. ¡°With sincerest and most¡­ yeah yeah yeah, just get to the point¡­¡± I mumbled out with a frustrated huff, my eyes scrolling faster and faster until I finally arrived at the man¡¯s intent. It was then that I leaned back against the suit, prompting it to mime that motion by more or less assaulting the back of the couch with the force of several tons of metal. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°What is it, Emma?¡± Thacea urged. ¡°The dean wants to meet with me. This time, outside of his office and in the courtyard. Though exactly why or for what reason is something that¡¯s left purposefully vague, or completely excluded from this letter. Which makes this entire page-long thing an overly sized, over-glorified memo.¡± I breathed out another massive sigh before continuing. ¡°I can only hazard two guesses why he¡¯d want to meet face to face though. One ¡ª this is a direct followup from Apprentice Arlan Ostoy¡¯s little threat of censorship, more or less fulfilling the promise he made that the matter will be followed up in one way or another. Two¡ª¡± I breathed out a sigh. ¡°¡ªthe man¡¯s going to reveal that he¡¯s caught the drone we left in his office.¡± That particular line of thought definitely struck a chord in the rest of the gang, as expressions ranging from anxiousness to concern were found amidst all three. ¡°That¡­ is most certainly a possibility, provided Sorecar was consulted on the matter of your drone, Emma.¡± Thacea reasoned. ¡°However, considering the timeline of events, I have my doubts. At risk of undermining our preparation for the worst case scenario through optimistic interpretation, I believe it stands to reason that the man intends to address the former issue rather than the latter.¡± ¡°I concur.¡± Thalmin chimed in. ¡°The Dean may be more spry than he might first appear, but even he cannot operate within this narrow window of opportunity.¡± ¡°That checks out, honestly.¡± I nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°If worse comes to pass then we¡¯ll just have to take the hits as they come. So whether its option A or B doesn¡¯t change much. We¡¯ll just have to wait and see.¡± A shrug came to me naturally, as I eyed everyone in the group through unflinching lenses. ¡°I think I¡¯ve taken up enough of your guys¡¯ time as is. So¡­ if no one has anything to add, I think it¡¯s high time we call it a night?¡± ¡°About time¡ª¡± ¡°I have one final matter to address, Emma.¡± Thalmin spoke up, more or less trampling Ilunor¡¯s little jab and halting him in his tracks. ¡°It pertains to the issue of Auris Ping. The evidence we¡¯ve been able to gather, whilst a major game changer and a milestone for your questline¡­ simply adds more confusion to the theories we have on the man¡¯s actions. If Mal¡¯tory was, and still is in critical condition¡­ then that must mean that Auris Ping is acting independently.¡± ¡°Or perhaps he¡¯s acting under another master, the Dean perhaps?¡± Thacea offered. ¡°Or maybe he¡¯s just dumb.¡± I countered, more or less reaffirming my hypothesis from the night of Thalmin¡¯s fateful encounter. This drew the eyes of the entire group on me, each of them with varying levels of either agreement or complete disregard. ¡°Honestly, the man¡¯s shown that he¡¯s bullheaded, brash, and completely stuck in his ways. He¡¯s the type to follow through with an idea the moment he thinks of it, no matter the consequences. Heck, he¡¯s shown that he¡¯s more than capable of committing to dumb answers in class even with professors who don¡¯t share his perspective. So honestly? I¡¯d say this is a certified Auris Ping moment. Not to downplay the absolute horror of what you went through, Thalmin. But I just think that the man¡¯s not necessarily the enigma we might think him to be.¡± ¡°It¡¯s Rostarion.¡± Ilunor finally chimed in, standing impatiently with his booted feets tapping the stone and hardwood floors. This prompted confused glares from the three of us, as the Vunerian simply let out a sigh of frustration. ¡°You must see it, do you not? That little vermin is a trickster! He¡¯s vying for power beneath everyone¡¯s noses and everyone acts none the wiser!¡± ¡°Ilunor, just because Rostario took your chair today doesn¡¯t mean-¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just about the chair, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor seethed with a smoky huff. ¡°It¡¯s a matter of principle, and even disregarding the chair, I sense something¡­ off about him. There¡¯s a scheming underbelly to the soft and plush overcoat, and what¡¯s more, let¡¯s not forget that he¡¯s part of Qiv¡¯s clique.¡± ¡°Which is exactly the point, Ilunor. He¡¯s part of Qiv¡¯s group, not Auris Ping¡¯s. The only way for Rostario to have been directly involved is for him to have somehow teamed up against us with Ping¡¯s group. Which, granted, is possible¡­ but I just don¡¯t see it. At least not without more evidence. The offer and argument he gave Thalmin was¡­ reasonable. So unless we see anything contradictory, we¡¯ll have to just wait and see.¡± ¡°You¡¯re just enamored by his displays of infantile whimsy. I see right through him, but you seemingly don¡¯t.¡± Ilunor seethed. Thalmin considered all of these perspectives with a pensive look, eyeing all three of us before finally giving in with a deflated sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll disregard the Rostario theory for now. However¡­ I believe it won¡¯t do us any harm if we keep our eye on him I suppose.¡± Thalmin offered a unique compromise for the Vunerian, before pushing forwards. ¡°In any case, we at least have confirmation that the man isn¡¯t under Mal¡¯tory¡¯s spell. Which I¡¯ll take as a tentative win, considering it¡¯s at least a step forward in uncovering the truth behind his actions.¡± ¡°Process of elimination, an age-old, but arduous, grinding, taxing process.¡± I offered, before settling back down into an awkward silence. ¡°So¡­ does anyone have anything else to add?¡± The silence continued, prompting me to stand right back up. ¡°Right then, I guess we can consider this ¡®meeting¡¯ adjourned.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Emma and Thacea¡¯s bedroom. Local Time: 00:20 Hours. Emma A good hour or so had elapsed since that meeting. An hour that I¡¯d spent toiling away at the last vestiges of the seemingly infinite matryoshka doll of a checklist that seemingly had no end. At least, until it finally did end. At the end of it, I found myself standing with both arms behind my head, observing the beauty that was The Tent in all of its glory. Though Tent was hardly the most accurate descriptor for it now, given how far it¡¯d come from that simple pop-up shelter on Day One. Compound was probably a better term for it, because that¡¯s exactly what it reminded me of at this point. A scaled down version of one of those early lunar hab-sites, or even one of those pioneering underwater hab-stations underneath the icy surface of Europa. The design team definitely took pointers from it, primarily because it was a tried and tested system that¡¯d worked for nearly a millennium now. Taking up a good portion of the room¡­ about a quarter of it at this point, was a sprawling maze of wires, tubes, and anchor-points, all neatly contained within modular sections of galvanized and envirosure-coated square composalite. These hardened square rectangular sections of metal created an almost industrial aesthetic as they criss-crossed my requisitioned section of the room, covering the medieval-esque floorboards with an uncaring and utilitarian presence that served only one purpose ¡ª the continued survival of the system, for the sake of its sole human occupant. Two generators dominated the landscape, with a third one hidden and nestled neatly within the tent¡¯s exterior. Speaking of the tent, it¡¯d probably gone through the least amount of changes throughout the latter part of my assembly process, as the final addition to it ¡ª the hygiene module, had already been assembled just last week. Most of the real work done to the tent was all internal at this point. From printer-fabs, to the armor workbench with all of the unpacked modules, and everything else in between ¡ª the tent had become quite full now. The only other thing that changed the lay of the land aside from the extra generator and the cleanup of the various pipes, cables, and tubes, was the appearance of several key security features. Namely, the automated security network. A series of thousands of tiny mechanical eyes lined the exterior of both the tent and the generators, visible as but a simple, flexible, almost cosmetic strip of flexible plastic to the untrained eye ¡ª these strips were instead home to a series of cameras that provided an unparalleled view of almost every possible vantage point around the assembled compound. In addition, several anchor points for dedicated tent defenses were installed between the generators, and at four corners bordering the tent¡¯s perimeter. To most, these would seem strangely akin to outdoor lawn light fixtures, amounting to just a decently sized black and gray cylinder with nothing to indicate its actual purpose. Upon detecting a viable threat however, these static defenses would quickly unfurl, revealing simple-but-effective weapons suites designed to neutralize a would-be attacker using anything from a concentrated jolt of electricity, to the laser and kinetic personal-defense armaments present in my suit¡¯s gauntlets. These made them heavy, of course, reliant on the basic power grid of the tent and thus unable to operate beyond its small perimeter. But that was the entire purpose behind their existence. They could move pretty quickly on eight spider-like legs when fully deployed in mobile mode. But they were ultimately designed to move in order to better neutralize an attacking force, not to act in any other capacity than defense. Though given the IAS and LREF¡¯s insistence on packing some of the most legendary and versatile workbenches in the tent, I could definitely see the range and operating parameters of the SSDEs (Semi-Static Defense Emplacements) being expanded with a few tweaks here and there¡­ Regardless, I knew I¡¯d be sleeping more soundly at night with those defenses now fully operational. And as I stood there, allowing the EVI to run a few final diagnostics using my third mechanical arm to poke and prod at their electrical panels¡­ Thacea finally made her reappearance back into the room from the shower. Her expressions¡­ said it all, as she just about hid a look of confusion and concern upon seeing what I was up to. The suit¡¯s third robotic arm quickly retracted as I turned back to face Thacea, her eyes clearly fixating on that anomalous object as it slipped away back into its backpack confines. ¡°Finishing up your¡­ living arrangements, I presume?¡± Thacea offered, prompting me to nod sheepishly beneath the helmet. ¡°Yup, I was.¡± I nodded. ¡°I once again wish to express my sincerest sympathies for you having to tolerate such¡­ substandard conditions, Emma. Moreover, it is quite upsetting to see you needing to expend yourself day in and day out, tirelessly, in what is in effect the construction of your own home. Manual labor is quite unbecoming of you, Emma.¡± ¡°Heh¡­ I appreciate that, Thacea.¡± I responded with a confused rub of my head, or helmet, in this case. ¡°But trust me, it¡¯s alright. The training they put me through makes this more or less a walk in the park. An exhausting walk sure, but a walk all the same.¡± I shot back with a reassuring grin. ¡°I see.¡± Was Thacea¡¯s only response as she walked around, seemingly entranced by the workmanship of the prefab and recently-printed components alike. ¡°This truly is oh so very¡­ alien.¡± She offered. ¡°Your people seem to have perfected what I can only describe as a very¡­ utilitarian means of construction.¡± ¡°I think I mentioned this a few days ago Thacea, but¡­ the worlds and spaces we push to inhabit are usually quite inhospitable. The only place we¡¯ve found little issue inhabiting¡­ is our home planet. Otherwise, our story is one of expansion which consistently pits us against the forces of nature itself. And it seems as if that age-old story seems to follow us wherever we go, even into other dimensions, at that.¡± ¡°You nestle yourselves in worlds of your own creation, in artificial structures that stand in cold defiance of everything around them. It would be a hard-sell to most, Emma. Many might look at this¡ª¡± Thacea gestured at the entire setup. ¡°¡ªand see a phage; a plague. A blight that seeks to expand and turn all into itself.¡± ¡°Do you see it that way, Thacea?¡± I countered curiously, cocking my head as I did so. ¡°No.¡± The princess replied without a hint of hesitation. ¡°So what do you see, if not a phage, a plague, or a blight?¡± ¡°I see a functional necessity, a self imposed, but necessary cage that must be erected should survival even be considered a possibility. I see a¡­ regrettable set of circumstances, born from a tenacious spirit that stands in defiance to the hand it is dealt.¡± Thacea paused, as we both took a few steps towards each other. ¡°I see beauty, beneath the cage.¡± A small pause punctuated those final few words, as I stood there, arms by my side, staring down at the princess. ¡°Well gee, Thacea I¡­ really wasn¡¯t expecting an entire poem there.¡± I replied awkwardly, trying my best to wrack my head around for an appropriate response to that. ¡°I guess¡­ I guess the feeling¡¯s mutual. The world may see me, and you as well, as something¡­ I don¡¯t know, different? But at the end of the day, I guess we both can see past that. I guess what I¡¯m trying to say is that I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re on my side in this adventure, Thacea.¡± I offered, eliciting a small nod from the avinor. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡¯ve taken enough of your time as is. It¡¯s high time we both go to bed.¡± ¡°And time that you take a shower, Emma.¡± Thacea shot back, taking me by surprise. ¡°I know not what manaless enchantments are beneath that suit of armor, but since most of your time was spent toiling away, you¡¯ve most certainly been neglecting that aspect of your living. So please, ensure you appoint yourself appropriately before tomorrow¡¯s next engagements.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Concourse of Learning. The Observer''s Cove. Local time: 0900. Emma Breakfast was rather¡­ uneventful this time around. Moreover, there was a distinct lack of anything being out of the ordinary, as more or less everyone was present, save for Mal¡¯tory of course; with his chair being taken up by Larial who got up and left halfway during breakfast along with Professor Belnor. To that end, our journey to Belnor¡¯s classes were also rather uneventful, save for the strange U-turn around and up onto a second level in the grand concourse of learning I hadn¡¯t noticed before. We eventually found ourselves walking down yet another long corridor, until we were met face to face with a room that at first threw me off. The space we soon found ourselves in wasn¡¯t the typical lecture-hall arrangement as was the case with the prior three classes. No. What we found ourselves filing into instead was a circular room, all tapered downwards towards what appeared to be an oval room encased in a glass dome. It took me a few seconds more to realize exactly what this arrangement was. It was one of those old-school operating theaters. The ones that were actual, literal, theaters. The reason for this was made all the more clear as the students now made their way towards what would roughly equate to their usual seats. Because as I got closer, and saw exactly what was through that glass, the comparisons with an operating theater became all the more apparent. As I saw the red-robed Professor Belnor, currently hacking away at something on a table. I found myself inching closer, trying to crane my head to get a closer view, and when I did¡­ I thankfully saw her hacking away at a plant rather than some poor live animal or something. It took a good few minutes before she got what she wanted, which came in the form of an iridescent fluid drained from deep within the plant¡¯s scale-like bark. It was around that point that she finally turned to face the quarter of the ¡®theater¡¯ that was full, and was promptly taken aback. ¡°Good morning, dear students. You caught me in the midst of an operation. Must¡¯ve lost track of time¡­ hmm. Well, take it all in! As what you witness now shall be a common sight to observe in this time-honored place.¡± The professor paused, positioning herself with both hands behind her back. ¡°I, Professor Belnor, welcome you all to Potions.¡± Chapter 85: I Require Your Strongest Potion ¡°Though¡­ calling it Potions would be underselling what is ostensibly one of the greatest fields you will ever have the privilege of studying.¡± The red-robed professor promptly added with a warm, almost granny-like smile, as she moved away from the dismembered carcass of a plant and closer towards us. ¡°What was it again that they call it now? Potions theory, Potions crafting, and Healing magic?¡± That question hung in the air, as if the class was expecting it to be rhetorical in nature. ¡°You have arms to raise and brains to think with, I would imagine. Or am I perhaps in the audience of a particularly well-crafted crowd of illusions?¡± Professor Belnor added with a raspy laugh, prompting Qiv and several others to raise their hands. ¡°Lord Esila?¡± ¡°I believe it is indeed referred to as three separate classes now, Professor Belnor.¡± The ferret managed out perfectly and without a hint of a stutter. ¡°Mmhmm! Indeed it is. And why do you think that is, dear?¡± ¡°Because Potions is an understated field, Professor. Because beneath its unassuming namesake, is a field that acts as the lifeblood for contemporary society. Potions isn¡¯t merely about the concoction of brews and mystery spirits¡­ It''s about the concentration, distillation, and reforging of mana into physical forms; be it liquid or gaseous. It is, by many interpretations, the field through which a thousand other fields are birthed from. Thus, by giving Potions more subjects and thus greater weight in our academic assessment, the Academy and by extension the magical community, is simply giving Potions the true weight it deserves.¡± ¡°Marvelous, Lord Esila! Well-put!¡± Professor Belnor shouted ecstatically, clapping her hands in rapid succession, urging the entire room to follow her example. ¡°Five points! Five points to Lord Esila for his spot-on analysis!¡± This was perhaps the first time the ferret-like Etholin was receiving any form of praise. And I was definitely here for it. His shy and meek nature however, prompted him to take the praise with the demeanor of an introvert, as he slinked back into his chair after several rounds of sharp bows. The uproarious applause ended with yet more urgings from the professor, as she magically teleported in a stool to sit on, taking a sigh of relief in the process. ¡°To elaborate on Lord Esila¡¯s points, unless you¡¯re from a particularly backwater region in a fledgling newrealm, the field of potions has long since left its humble beginnings of swirling cauldrons of eye-of-newt and tongue-of-griffins. Nowadays, when we talk of potions, we talk primarily of its application as an extractor, consolidator, concentrator, and coalescer of mana in all of its forms; as well as a coalescer of magical concoctions as is traditionally understood. From the purest distilled form of nth-tier mana¡­¡± The professor paused, twirling her index finger in order to bring over a vial of literal rainbow-fluid. ¡°... to the most bastardized concoction of potent mana forms¡­¡± She paused once again, bringing over what appeared to be a brackish, muddy-brown solution that stained the glass of its container. ¡°... the study of potions now serves far more than just a quick remedy or a boost of power for a mage or guardsman. It now serves as the facilitator for the vital yet understated processes of civilized society. From jump-starting new tethers and puddle jumpers for transport and communication, to the facilitation of water-based systems for the purposes of agriculture to plumbing, to the fuel by which manufactoriums are powered; potions is what defines our contemporary society. Especially those of us in adjacent realms particularly lacking in rich concentrations of mana.¡± I could practically feel the EVI furiously taking notes, as I could just about imagine its internal coolants flowing at a breakneck pace to keep it from overheating. There were as many revelations that hit me as there were questions that sprung from the magical lore being delivered. Though I knew I had to hold those questions for now, considering how the professor seemed to be on a roll. ¡°Potions theory will primarily focus on both this macro scale application of Potions, and the micro scale concoction of potions from a more traditional magely perspective. Potions crafting will follow a similar path, though with an emphasis on the latter rather than the former. Whilst Healing Magic will focus on another matter altogether.¡± Belnor paused once more, as if expecting someone to raise the question of why that was the case. When it was clear silence was her only answer however, she quickly sighed. ¡°I will always assume that everyone understands what is being taught if there are no questions raised. So let me set this precedence now ¡ª I wish for you to raise your hands should you have a point of disambiguation or clarification. Is that clear?¡± The whole class nodded in acknowledgement, as several hands were tentatively raised up. ¡°Yes, Lady Ladona?¡± ¡°And how exactly does Healing Magic fit into this subject roster, professor?¡± ¡°A very good question.¡± Belnor nodded. ¡°Many, many years ago, Potions was a rather vague and undefined subject matter. Its reach was so extensive owing to its breadth and depth, that Healing was considered an integral aspect of its field of study. You will find that is no longer the case however, as Healing Magic has very much become a rich and diverse field in and of itself. Now, the reason why Healing Magic is within my scope of teaching is simple ¡ª all Potions Grand Masters must also be Masters of Healing. So considering the Healing Magic you will be taught will mostly be theoretical in nature and primarily fundamental studies¡­ it is well within the scope of both my alma mater and expertise to teach. Moreover, prior to Potions being divided up into three distinct classes, a portion of it was ostensibly devoted to Healing.¡± ¡°Thank you, professor.¡± Ladona bowed and promptly took her seat. ¡°You¡¯ve all probably heard this many times before, but as it is Academy policy, let me reiterate the specifics of how my classes will be organized.¡± The next thirty minutes of class was, predictably, spent addressing the various organizational quirks of the three-periods-in-one-day nature of Belnor¡¯s classes. As expected, the classes would be separated into morning and afternoon classes, with the expectation that Potions Theory and Potions Crafting would be taught more or less as a single period. Healing Magic however would primarily take up a good chunk of the afternoon classes, if not all of it. Assessments were¡­ once again, pretty predictable. Potions theory assessments would be almost entirely written and theory-based. Potions Crafting would prove a bit more difficult owing to it being an almost entirely practical class. Whilst Healing Magic¡­ was split fifty-fifty. I¡¯d have to hope that the theory-based assessments would be enough to bring up my averages. In any case, the general vibe from Belnor¡¯s class was¡­ strangely enough, simultaneously the most similar in terms of vibes to an average class back home, and coincidentally, also the driest out of all the classes so far. About an hour had elapsed and only the fundamentals had been covered. All of which boiled down to what the EVI had condensed into three primary talking points. One: Potions as a field is both the study and practical application of mana in its physical, tangible form. Two: The field of potions can be divided into two main branches, traditional, and modern. Traditional Potions often involves the mixing and matching of various forms of physical manatypes, creating what is effectively spells-in-a-bottle, but with far less room for flexibility or modification compared to a spell cast by a mage. Modern Potions however, seems to focus more on the distillation of pure mana on a massive scale, for the purposes of spell-casting on an equally massive scale. Belnor¡¯s recounting of the history of potions more or less took a good chunk of this section of the lecture too, with it more or less boiling down to one singular sentence. ¡°It all started when the very first mage discovered the first manapool, and began mixing and matching what most would associate with basic potions ¡ª magical ingredients harvested from nature. Before finally, mixing all of it into what is effectively the first mage¡¯s cauldron.¡± Three: Potions, most often in Traditional potions, involve three primary elements in their creation ¡ª an ¡®agitant¡¯, a ¡®catalyst¡¯, and a ¡®medium¡¯. Though this rule doesn¡¯t necessarily apply in certain applications, such as in the distillation of pure mana to be put into mana-vials. Which led me to a question that both Qiv and Ping¡¯s group sneered at. ¡°Professor, if I may, it would seem as if Traditional Potions at its core is simply the mixing of highly-enchanted and magically-imbued mana-rich ingredients to reach a desired result, correct?¡± ¡°That is somewhat reductive but that is more or less the point of this lesson, so yes, Cadet Emma Booker. What of it?¡± ¡°Well, that brings up a question. Why can¡¯t the typical ¡®commoner¡¯, who is otherwise incapable of practicing magic, practice potion-crafting or potion-use instead?¡± This question prompted the entire class to slowly rise into an uproarious series of dismissive chuckles. Belnor however, quickly shushed all of these would-be gossipers into submission with a mana-amplified shush that sent a split-second cold snap throughout the whole theater. Moreover, not once did she seem bothered by the nature of the question. In fact, she seemed delighted more than anything, which more or less matched the excitable tone she gave with her answer. ¡°That¡¯s an excellent question, Cadet Emma Booker! I understand that the rest of the class may consider this to be a rather basic question, but considering your newrealmer heritage, this question only makes sense. Moreover, I appreciate you following through with my encouragement to make your curiosities known. Education is akin to construction after all, and we simply cannot build more floors without the ones beneath it in place! Now! To address your question ¡ª no, a commoner cannot practice potions-crafting. Though, similar to the use of enchanted items, a commoner could potentially make use of pre-crafted potions; provided of course it''s not too powerful in the case of ingested or inhaled potions. Though the capacity for use once again depends on the particular type of potion, and the inherent strength of that commoner¡¯s mana-fields.¡± All of this led to a rather simple question to form in my mind, especially as the professor had glossed over one very important point. ¡°But why?¡± I countered. ¡°Simple, Cadet Emma Booker. Potions, as with spells, require the manipulation of manastreams in order to take effect; or in this case, in order to successfully coalesce. Coalescence being the technical term for the successful mixing of a potion, by the by. As despite what it may seem on the surface, the mixing of magical ingredients in and of themselves is not what causes a potion to coalesce, at least not in a controlled sense. No, what really turns a potion from a simple fizzle or a runaway explosion into a ready-made spell-in-liquid-form, is the control of said reaction utilizing your manastreams and the ambient mana around you. Otherwise, you¡¯re simply seeing the reaction of several ingredients to its simple and basic end.¡± The professor paused, taking a moment to ponder something, before simply reshaping the small room within her glass bubble. The ¡®surgical table¡¯ from before was promptly replaced by a massive cauldron. However, instead of your typical storybook cauldron, this one was¡­ surprisingly upscaled. As with most of the things in the Academy, the setup felt premium, as if taken from the pages of typical fantasy and then brushed up with upscaled aesthetics in mind. ¡°Observe.¡± The professor announced, filling the cauldron up with a mysterious gray-blue fluid. ¡°Anyone can mix an eye-of-newt, a toe-of-direhog, and a feather-of-griffon, with a Tasley¡¯s reagent, yes.¡± She spoke as she added those aforementioned ingredients from meticulously labeled glass jars. ¡°But only a magically-gifted individual can turn that into a viable potion of life. Otherwise, you¡¯d just end up with a particularly smelly brew that wouldn¡¯t even make a good stew.¡± She continued, promptly causing the whole brew to turn a sickly brown sludge. The whole class was quickly riled into another set of dismissive giggles. But as with before, Belnor quickly shot this down with a sharp and ear-piercing SHH! If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°The ultimate goal of Potions ¡®brewing¡¯, is not found in the reaction of ingredients, but instead the successful coalescence of the sum of their parts; and in order to successfully reach coalescence, one must carefully control a potion¡¯s reactions through the active manipulation of mana using the manastreams.¡± She continued, magically teleporting the cauldron away, to be replaced with a new one; repeating the mixing of the motions of the prior ¡®failed¡¯ potion. It took just about a minute before she was finished, and in that time, the EVI picked up at least twenty different instances of unique blips of mana radiation. Following the final blip, the brew turned iridescent and green, as the professor demonstrated its potency by simply tipping over the cauldron, covering the white-tiled floor in this suspicious fluid. Almost immediately, the entire floor became coated by the abrupt growth of a verifiable forest, as moss and grass gave way to trees, flowers, and a verdant overgrowth of hedges. ¡°In a way, this goes back to my first point. A finished potion, at its core, can be described and summed up as a spell-in-a-bottle. Though I will warn you that I simply phrased it as such in order to get my point across. I will not accept that as an answer on any written assessment.¡± [Noted] The EVI ¡®responded¡¯, in a manner that I could only describe as cheeky. ¡°Understood, professor. Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions.¡± I acknowledged with a nod, prompting the professor to reciprocate before moving straight on from those points. ¡°I would like to reiterate however, that the quality of a potion directly correlates to its efficacy, if that wasn¡¯t already self-evident.¡± She gestured towards the patch of forest now dominating the room she stood in. ¡°What I used were distilled, concentrated, and purified extracts of the aforementioned ingredients. The process of attaining such ingredients is, in and of itself, a separate and distinct sub-specialty in Potions as a field.¡± I nodded along, taking notes, as a thought slowly but surely crept up into my mind. Was Potions literally just¡­ the magical equivalent of chemistry? I raised my hand again, this time not only for intel¡¯s sake, but simply because this class was actually becoming something I could engage with. This was starting to feel like the magic school I¡¯d anticipated for. Vanavan¡¯s class was dull, Articord¡¯s class was pure propaganda, and Larial¡¯s¡­ whilst fun, was just too indecipherable without mana-vision. This was also the perfect time to raise my questions from before. ¡°Yes, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°I just wanted to expand on that point a bit, Professor. You said before that the distillation of pure mana was what defines Modern Potions as a field, right?¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± ¡°Is that very same mana the sort of stuff that¡¯s used by, say, Professor Pliska in the enchantment of his tools?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°So essentially¡­ the distillation of mana, condensed into mana-vials, is what allows for the various components of society to actually function? As in, without necessitating the need for mages at every turn?¡± ¡°I can sense the cogs in your head turning, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Belnor announced with a smile. ¡°Moreover, I understand just how revolutionary such a concept must be for your realm. As this is effectively one of the key fundamental takeaways from Potions as a field ¡ª it allows for magical gifts to be spread to uplift civilization with the boons of civility. It, an essence derived from nobility, is the physical manifestation of the ideals of Monarchy and Nobility. For it acts as the palpable, visible, and intractable force through which Monarchy enriches the lives of the commoners from what would otherwise be a wretched existence.¡± The red-robed professor spoke with a level of conviction that was paradoxically as warm as it was cold. Because her tone of voice more or less retained that same warm, granny-knows-best undercurrents. Yet the words spoken with that voice could easily be the same ones heard in Articord¡¯s Nexian propaganda class. The red-robed professor at this point was at a crossroads in my eyes, with her heart in¡­ what I could only describe as vaguely the right place, but her values more or less having been dictated by the world she was nurtured in. Perhaps in a different setting, things could¡¯ve turned out differently. Still¡­ there was at least hope for change, if I wasn¡¯t misinterpreting her intent that is. Whatever the case was, the class quickly continued following that point, as my mind focused both on the talking points highlighted by the EVI, and my own ruminations on the red-robed professor.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Dining Hall. 1220 Emma ¡°I have a question for you guys.¡± I finally spoke up, after what appeared to be twenty whole minutes of silent contemplation. ¡°Yes, Emma?¡± Thacea responded first with a cock of her head. ¡°How do you guys actually feel about what Belnor said? About your responsibility to the common people, I mean? It¡¯s actually something that I¡¯ve been meaning to discuss with you, but considering everything that¡¯s gotten in the way¡­ it just hasn¡¯t ever come up.¡± ¡°What Professor Belnor spoke of is the benign and benevolent interpretation of the Noble Right to Rule.¡± Thacea began, prompting me to quickly shoot back a small question of my own. ¡°I thought it was divine right in the case of monarchies?¡± ¡°That was the case prior to His Eternal Majesty.¡± Ilunor butted in with a huff. ¡°However, following the Nexian Reformations, such a concept was deemed primitive and backwards. For the divine right implies that the right to rule stems from The Gods¡­ which have shown themselves to be self-serving, and acting in the interests of their own immortal kin, rather than in good faith to the mortal realm. To rule by divine right, is to be a pawn, a tool, and at worst a toy for these unthinking and unfeeling beings. It is a sign of barbarism. Enlightened Monarchies, Contemporary Monarchies, by contrast, is a rejection of that philosophy. For we are instead ordained and given authority by the one true ruler, who took the fate of mortals from the hands of these so-called gods ¡ª His Eternal Majesty. Thus, what Professor Belnor speaks of is the more benevolent interpretation of the Noble Right to Rule; the inherent birthright stemming from our magical heritage and His Eternal Majesty¡¯s blessings.¡± ¡°Which¡­ brings us back to the concept of Noble Right to Rule, Emma.¡± Thacea interjected, pulling the conversation back into my question. ¡°The benevolent interpretation states that it is the responsibility of Monarchy and Nobility to not only benefit themselves, but the lives of those incapable of using magic. For it is in the hands of those with magical acumen, typically nobility, to forge civilized society.¡± ¡°And do you agree with that interpretation?¡± I shot back. ¡°I do.¡± Thacea nodded without hesitation. ¡°But not in the manner in which you think, Emma. I do not subscribe to the notion that there is an inherent state of superiority or inferiority based upon magical acumen. Merely, I see an unfortunate state of affairs that comes as a result of the societies which we have forged. It is inevitable that magic becomes the lifeblood of civilization, and thus, it is our responsibility as Monarchs and Nobles to try to best raise the standard of living of all within our care.¡± ¡°And to protect all within our stewardship, to the best of our abilities.¡± Thalmin added with a firm nod. I took a few moments to consider the pair¡¯s responses, and Ilunor¡¯s distinct lack of a response, before finally letting out a sigh and a cock of my own head. ¡°Those are¡­ noble endeavors when you consider the constraints of the world you live in. But if you¡¯d allow me to pose you a hypothetical, let me ask you this¡­ this belief of yours stems from the limitations of a society forged solely with magic, correct?¡± It was clear at this point that Thacea knew exactly where I was going with this, but she nodded along all the same. ¡°Correct, Emma.¡± ¡°Well in that case¡­ would your perspective change at all if an alternative fundamental facilitator of civilization came into the picture? As in, the utilization of science and technology, not needing mana or magic, to further the lives of those within your realms?¡± All three paused at that question, but it was Thacea, followed closely by Thalmin, that eventually responded. ¡°To have an alternative, would be akin to the destruction of the bottleneck holding everyone back from the fruits of civilization.¡± ¡°And would be the key to threatening the Nexian stranglehold on power.¡± Thalmin whispered out. All of this was followed by utter silence from Ilunor, who continued sipping away at his rainbow drink.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Concourse of Learning. The Observer''s Cove. Local time: 1450. Emma The class started off with a banger of a question. One that I had always wanted to ask but just kept slipping from my mind. Why don¡¯t plants and animals just despawn due to mana overload after death? Or in Belnor¡¯s words¡­ ¡°Does anyone know exactly why so-called harmonization does not occur following the death of a living being?¡± The entire class¡­ was eerily silent at that question, as not even Qiv nor Ping had an answer for that. ¡°This is a very important question if we are to continue with Healing Magic. Because to talk about life, we must first talk about death.¡± Silence once more followed Belnor¡¯s assertions, prompting the professor to nod in acknowledgement. ¡°Ignorance is nothing to be ashamed of, students. This is why you are here after all.¡± She spoke encouragingly, before moving on just as swiftly. ¡°Allow me to rephrase my question then. Has anyone here ever heard of the Three Deaths?¡± There were a few murmurs that spawned from this, but nothing in the way of raised hands. This prompted Belnor to continue. ¡°The phrase was not spawned from faith or belief, but by the gradual and methodical study, as macabre as it may be, of the actual process by which all things die. Provided of course, that the death occurs through typical means.¡± The professor took a moment to pause, before manifesting what appeared to a mannequin out of thin air. ¡°The living being is often conflated as being purely biological in nature. From the blood in our veins to the marrow in our bones, this physical vessel is oftentimes seen as just that ¡ª a biological vessel carrying within it a magical soul. The truth of the matter however, is much more complicated. Because whilst there does exist a soul, and whilst it is indeed carried within our biological vessels¡­ we often forget that our very physiologies are magical in nature.¡± The professor paused, before zooming into the mannequin, the magical hologram that floated below the roof of the glass dome displaying muscle, bone, and the organs within. ¡°For deep within our bodies, are tiny, infinitesimally small substrates that make up our greater whole. And it is within these tiny substrates that exist both the biological, and the magical.¡± The professor spoke vaguely, before zooming outwards once again. This prompted me to raise my hand, which was promptly called upon. ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Professor, by substrates, don¡¯t you mean cells?¡± The whole room came to a stop at that, as the professor cocked her head, and the EVI provided some invaluable pieces of insight into the limitations of this specific word in High Nexian. [No direct translation for ¡®cell¡¯ in a Cytological context found within the Nexian dictionary, Cadet Booker. Closest approximations are too vague for this context.] I quickly amended my response as a result. ¡°As in, tiny building blocks of your body, smaller than what the naked eye can see. Individual, and oftentimes interconnected organisms on a microscopic scale, that comprise up your anatomy.¡± The professor, for the first time, was transfixed with a look of contemplative disbelief. ¡°They¡­ they have organelles, little processes inside of them too. So I¡¯m wondering if that was what you were referencing to when you said that within these ¡®substrates¡¯ were biological and magical¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªyou speak of Ure.¡± The professor interjected, stopping me right in my tracks. ¡°New terminology added to the [Working Language Database]¡± The look on her face wasn¡¯t necessarily one of befuddlement as a result of being completely ignorant to the idea; that much was a given considering she knew exactly what I was describing. However, the perplexed look on her face was more one of disbelief, as if she wasn¡¯t expecting that to be within my working knowledge. ¡°Ure, referring to these fundamental substrates by which biological structure and processes are derived. That was what I was referring to, yes.¡± She clarified, before quickly shifting gears to address her growing curiosity. ¡°Your people¡­ have your own independent name for this concept? Cell, was it?¡± I nodded plain and simply. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And how did you come across it? Lost knowledge and texts? Tales from mysterious visitors?¡± The professor drilled further, her eyes narrowing by the second. That latter question felt¡­ strangely specific, but I pushed past it to directly address her concerns. ¡°We hypothesized it. At first, as a philosophical concept. Then, as time went on, more serious work was done to either prove or disprove it. Eventually, we discovered it, by our own hands, through our own methodical and gradual processes of study and research.¡± I clarified. ¡°You discovered it, how exactly?¡± The professor¡¯s eyes narrowed even further. ¡°By seeing them first-hand. Through the usage of optical microscopy, by developing an advanced knowledge of lenses and the study of light, in order to peer into the microverse.¡± That response¡­ garnered a series of quiet and muffled whispers, mostly amongst the ranks of Qiv, Ping, and a few of the other more ¡®notable¡¯ students and peer groups. ¡°She knows of the microverse.¡± ¡°But how?! She¡¯s a newrealmer! Such capabilities are beyond even the most middling of middling realms!¡± ¡°Advanced mana-imbued microscopy is a field rarely developed independently outside of the Nexus and without Nexian aid.¡± ¡°Perhaps she learned of it while she was at the Academy, you imbeciles! Don¡¯t you fall for her tricks!¡± ¡°If she HAD learned of it over the course of her time here, then how do you explain her using a wholly different language in addressing the concept?!¡± ¡°Touch¨¦, Lord Ratom.¡± SHH! Belnor shushed loudly once more, putting a literal cold lid on the situation before it could boil over. ¡°We have little time left and I shall not allow this class to become a den of gossip.¡± The professor announced sternly, before turning towards me. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Yes, Professor?¡± ¡°I appreciate you using your point of clarification to expand upon this concept. Now, if you do not have anything else to add, I must insist we proceed.¡± If the classes are just going to be based on fundamentally congruent biological concepts, then it¡¯ll definitely be a breeze. I thought to myself cockily. I gave the professor a nod. ¡°No professor, that¡¯s all I wished to touch upon. Thank you.¡± The professor responded with a brief bob of her head, her eyes still brimming with curiosity that she refused to voice. ¡°Hmm¡­ all well and good. With that out of the way, let us proceed onto the final topic of today. The Three Death Principle.¡± Okay. Maybe not everything will be a breeze then¡­ Chapter 86: You Cannot Handle My Potions ¡°Death is a story told in threes.¡± Professor Belnor proclaimed with a swish of her hands, reconjuring the humanoid mannequin from before out of thin air. ¡°The death of the corpus.¡± Her voice echoed, causing the standing mannequin to quite literally keel over and ¡®die¡¯. ¡°The death of the Ure.¡± The mannequin remained prone, motionless and lifeless, whilst the space above it erupted into a magical holographic display. Within which was an animation of a rapidly-magnifying picture, moving from organ, to tissue, to cell cluster, before finally¡­ zooming into and focusing-in on a single lonesome cell. One that seemed to ¡®pulse¡¯ with life, until finally, it stopped. ¡°And the departure of the soul.¡± A shadowy, wispy, ephemeral cloud of ¡®smoke¡¯ emerged from the still and lifeless mannequin, rising up higher and higher until finally, it simply disappeared from view. ¡°The bodies which our souls inhabit are not merely biological vessels of flesh and bone. Nor is it merely a vehicle through which the irreplaceable soul of a sapient resides. No, these bodies which we call our own, are not at all bereft of the complexities of the soul which we otherwise hold in such high regard. For there is magic in the most fundamental building blocks of our material form, the result of the abstract processes of life, forged through factors both arbitrary and extraneous. We, or rather, our bodies ¡ª are both magical and biological. Which results in the phenomenon we now understand as The Three Death Principle.¡± The professor paused, tapping her feet several times in rapid succession, and prompting the recessed surgical theater to lift up to ground-level. ¡°Allow me to elaborate.¡± She once more gestured towards the hologram, which now grew so large that it took up much of the glass dome of the elevated surgical theater. Within that projection, was the cell from before. Except this time, the animation had been reset, and it pulsated with life far more vividly than even before. ¡°Within our bodies, comprising our very being, is the fundamental organism known as the Ure. It is within this Ure, that the biological meets the magical. As it is a well known fact that it is only with mana, that life is even possible. The integration of which however, is often overlooked, if not entirely misrepresented by many a misinformed scholar. It is as such, my responsibility to correct those misunderstandings. Starting now.¡± The professor snapped her fingers, zooming in so close that the various organelles of the cell could be seen. There, we were treated to what was the most prototypical looking eukaryotic cell imaginable, as the EVI began furiously cross-referencing this to our internal databases; highlighting everything that was comparable from the large and universally recognizable nucleus, to the ever-important bean-looking rockstar that was the powerhouse of the cell ¡ª the mitochondria. [CROSS REFERENCE ANALYSIS] Notifications dotted my HUD, absolutely filling up my visual real estate with annotation after annotation of nth tier scientific analyses. However, as quickly as those successful identifications rolled in, so too were several regions of the cell quickly demarcated in yellow and red circles, annotated in question marks that hinted at what were ostensibly foreign and unknown constructs; incomparable to any known cell in the database. It was this region of the cell that the professor began honing in on, as she began pointing at the anomalous cellular components, and describing them simply as: ¡°-the magical aspect of the otherwise biological entity. The fundamental components of the Ure that gave it life, and the sole reason why death is the way it is. For you see, students, life is a careful balance, a marriage of two forces ¡ª the biological, and the magical. Your biological processes are one half of the equation, the magical being the other half. One cannot exist without the other, nor can one aspect sustain itself without the other. These two forces must always be in balance, in equilibrium, in [homeostasis].¡± The EVI quickly chimed in, providing a paraphrased descriptor of the professor¡¯s otherwise long winded explanations. ¡°Some processes may exist independently, whilst others are intertwined. Both, however, are needed for the processes of life. In most deaths however, the biological often gives way first, leading to the death of the corpus ¡ª the first death.¡± The professor once more paused, making a point to illustrate a typical ¡®biological death¡¯ on a second hologram. Most of the examples were quite bland, consisting of old age, accidents, or some combination of bog-standard deaths. Though some that came up consisted of what I could only describe as scenes pulled straight out of an AMV of some hyper-realistic medieval fighting game. ¡°The death of the biological, however, does not immediately mean the death of the magical. The magical, in fact, manages to persist for some time; its independent processes being the last vestiges of life to persist until finally¡­ it too dies due to the death of its other half.¡± A hand was raised from the crowd at this point. It was, surprisingly, Qiv Ratom. ¡°Yes, Lord Ratom?¡± ¡°Professor, if I may interject, is the corpus not dead at this point in time? As in, haven¡¯t all signs of life ceased at this point in time?¡± ¡°That is correct, Lord Ratom.¡± Belnor answered with a firm nod. ¡°If that is the case¡­ then how is it that the Ure is still, in a sense, alive? Moreover, how are the Ure not helping to maintain the body¡¯s life functions?¡± ¡°That is an excellent question, Lord Ratom.¡± Belnor acknowledged with a warm smile, before turning to the rest of class. ¡°Is there anyone who believes they may have the answer?¡± A few eyes glanced down towards Qiv at this point in time, many of which were accompanied by the tentative twitching of hands and arms. It was clear there were some who wanted to try their hand at hypothesizing an answer. Though many simply refused to do so, clearly out of a concern that doing so would be an encroachment of the great Lord Qiv Ratom. Belnor, either not noticing the trend or choosing to simply ignore it, chose to move on. ¡°Well then, I will be more than happy to answer, Lord Ratom.¡± She continued with that amiable demeanor. ¡°The death of the corpus, is in a sense, a purely biological affair. As despite the magical aspect of the Ure acting as an integral partner in a body¡¯s homeostasis at a [cellular] level, it does not play a vital role in the gross processes of its overarching physiology. This is why I specifically selected the term persist instead of survive. As all Ure following the death of the corpus, are no longer capable of survival, but are merely persisting until such a time where they too will die.¡± The professor took a moment to highlight several aspects of the hologram once more, showing the cell as it was in its healthy state, before transitioning to a state wherein all of the various biological processes have more or less stopped. Despite that, the self-described magical organelles continued to function, even though it was clear that the rest of the cell was no longer viable. ¡°This is not to say that the Ure is truly alive at this point, merely that the magical [organelles] at this point in time, are still functioning. This will be an important distinction to note when dealing with the third and final death.¡± She spoke as she demonstrated the slow, but eventual cessation of the magical organelle¡¯s mystery-functions, before it too succumbed to death. ¡°To summarize, the first death is defined by the cessation of a body¡¯s biological processes. Whilst the second death is defined by the cessation of the last mana-based processes of the Ure.¡± Belnor once more gestured to the hologram, which highlighted the point of those two ¡®deaths¡¯. ¡°It is the third and final death however, that truly marks the point of no return; the point of true death. As everything prior to the third death is more than within the capacity for modern healing to rectify, if not entirely reverse.¡± The professor paused yet again, gesturing to the ¡®operating theater¡¯ behind her, as it was suddenly and inexplicably filled with what I assumed to be illusions of magical healers. Each of them were dressed in what I could only describe as an extremely simplified set of mage¡¯s robes, to the point where they more resembled surgical scrubs with a golden trim, and inscribed with a set of magical scripts; the likes of which ran up and down the length of their clothes. On top of the operating table was someone who just looked outright dead to me, but that the holographic projection above showed was still at the very cusp of a second death. ¡°So long as the third death is not yet reached, contemporary healing is more than capable of reversing all of the processes of first and second death.¡± The professor announced with a charismatic vigor. A proud and wide grin began forming at the edges of her face, as she gestured at the room behind her. ¡°We live in an era of miracles, an era where contemporary healing has seemingly triumphed over most of the forces of death. We bask in the fruits of the resultant efforts of eons upon eons of tireless and ceaseless study, wherein the biological and the magical have become akin to clay and putty in the hands of the skilled and learned healer.¡± The little ¡®skit¡¯ behind the professor marched on, as it flipped through hundreds of patients¡¯ worth of grievous injuries and horrible maladies in the span of just a minute, before finally ending on a note of palpable optimism where the presumably-healed patients from before all lined up behind the professor unscathed and unscarred. ¡°These are all the lives I have personally touched following my mastery of healing, all of which would have otherwise succumbed to their injuries if it were not for the skills and knowledge bestowed upon me from those that have come before me.¡± The professor continued, her chest puffing up with pride, her whole vibe shifted to something resembling a sweet old lady reminiscing on both her glory days, and the wonders of ¡®modern society¡¯. ¡°We have defeated the two deaths, in more ways than can be covered in a single lesson.¡± She continued, but soon, started to radically shift her expressions; from one of pride and optimism, to one more reluctant and sullen. This change in expression was matched in equal measures by the change in her tone of voice. ¡°But we have not, nor will we seemingly ever, defeat the third and final death ¡ª the untethering of the soul from its mortal and worldly confines.¡± She spoke with a deep and steady sigh. It was at this point that the lights in my brain started coming on one by one, that one word managing to elicit the most recent memories on the fate of the black-robed professor. Untethering. I physically leaned forwards now, something that garnered the attention of the entire gang as it was something I rarely did, if ever, in any other class. ¡°But perhaps I am getting a bit too ahead of myself.¡± Belnor continued, as she whisked away all of the illusions and holograms from behind her, leaving only the mannequin and the hologram of the lonesome cell above her. ¡°Let us circle back to the second death, and the point I made regarding the persistence of these magical organelles following the first death. Let us talk about the fundamentals of the soul, and the manifestation of the processes of this third and most final death.¡± A few swishes of the professor¡¯s hands would cause the mannequin in question to take center stage, as layers of its body would begin peeling away, revealing the organ systems beneath. However, instead of settling into any one organ system, the ¡®animation¡¯ simply ¡®cycled¡¯ between all of them. ¡°The soul, despite it being the core of our very essence, is nebulous and undefined. There is no one organ system, no discrete point in the body through which its presence can be ascertained. The soul is, instead, bound to our body by virtue of the combined processes of all of the magical and mana-based processes present within our Ure.¡± I raised my hand at that, my mind now running at a million miles an hour. ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Professor, are you saying that the soul is an emergent property?¡± Belnor¡¯s eyes widened at that answer, as she cocked her head, before nodding deeply. ¡°In a sense, Cadet Booker. Though that is the scholarly interpretation of the manner by which it ¡®arose¡¯. Nevertheless, that is a valid descriptor all the same. Now, moving on¡ª¡± The professor quickly gestured towards the hologram of the cell. ¡°¡ªthere is likewise no particular one Ure, nor any particular set of Ure we can point to in order to ascertain just where the soul is tethered. Instead, and taking a phrase from Cadet Emma Booker¡¯s vernacular, the tethers by which the soul is bound to our body, are instead the cumulative and intangible emergent property of the sum of our magical processes.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The whole class furiously began taking notes at this, as the holographic projection behind the professor morphed and shifted once more, this time turning into something completely different. ¡°Allow me to illustrate.¡± What was now above the professor¡­ was an entire jigsaw puzzle set. ¡°Imagine the soul and its tethers as two pieces of a puzzle, completely interlocking, and seamless in its integration.¡± The hologram above began assembling the jigsaw set, one side forming the vaguely recognizable shape of an elven body, and the other taking the shape of what I could only describe as a stylized cloud. ¡°One half of the puzzle represents the body, and the other represents the soul.¡± The two corresponding halves lit up as the professor spoke, before finally, they began locking into place. ¡°It is these tabs and divots, these uniquely shaped connectors, that represent the tethers which bind the body and soul.¡± The puzzle pieces¡¯ ¡®connectors¡¯ were highlighted for emphasis. The animation paused for a moment, as the bottom-half section representing the body started to change, turning a sickly green before losing all sense of color that more than likely represented the death of the body. ¡°And it is these tabs and divots, these tethers, which are lost one by irreplaceable one, following the completion of the second death.¡± As if on cue, the little jigsaw tabs between the two halves of the puzzle began withering away, as the top half representing the soul slowly but surely, began dislodging, before finally, floating away altogether. ¡°This is the third death.¡± The professor announced with finality. ¡°The point in which the soul, the very source of one¡¯s being, the very ability for one to regulate the influx and efflux of mana, is finally released. At which point¡ª¡± Belnor paused, gesturing to the hologram as it reverted back to the mannequin and the magnified cell. ¡°¡ªthere is no means of reversing the process of death. As there is no means of retrieving a lost soul, reforging individual tethers, and no valid rituals of actually reconnecting the soul to the tethers as might otherwise be possible with a simple puzzle. Many have tried, and while many have succeeded in creating entities such as the spellbound, no one has truly succeeded in the complete retethering of a wayward soul following a complete third death.¡± A moment of silence descended on the class, as a million and one questions descended over me, consuming every bit of my very being. I didn¡¯t know how Professor Belnor did it, but we somehow went from middle school cell biology to a Castles and Wyverns deep lore podcast in a blink of an eye. And whilst I definitely vibed with both, the looming question of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s fate and how it factored into all of this just kept tugging at the corners of my consciousness. This growing concern however, was quickly addressed. But not by myself or anyone else in the gang, but by Rostarion of all people. ¡°Yes, Prince Rostario Rostarion?¡± ¡°Professor, if I may¡­ what would you make of the rumors surrounding the forbidden arts of retethering? Or, as some may say, the restoration of life during the third death?¡± The professor eyed the hamster with a severe expression, her eyes eventually glimpsing his notebook which from my vantage point, was filled to the brim with notes pre-prepared prior to class. ¡°Mortals will do everything in their power to defy death, Prince Rostarion.¡± The professor began. ¡°It is also worth noting that such an act, retethering as you put it, has in fact been attempted countless times before; more often than not without the approval of any guild or council. For the purposes of this class however, I wish not to comment on such atrocious acts. As in order to attain the ends which they seek, they must sacrifice more than what is morally acceptable, and even so¡­ what appears on the other side, is often never the same.¡± ¡°Thank you, professor.¡± Rostario responded with a deep bow. ¡°I merely wished to address a curious topic which would otherwise consume the class following such a riveting lesson.¡± Many murmurs were heard following that, as despite not knowing what Rosatrio¡¯s social game was here, I couldn¡¯t deny the fact that he had in fact addressed the elephant in the room. It was following that exchange however, that another question from before finally reemerged. One that I felt compelled to follow up on. ¡°Professor?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°You said at the beginning of this lesson on death that you¡¯d be explaining why plants and animals in the Nexus don¡¯t just despawn-, I mean, harmonize.¡± I quickly corrected myself, but found that the EVI had managed to successfully implement a stutter between that little self-correction; saving me from the awkwardness. ¡°Indeed I did, indeed. We are just getting to that, Cadet Booker.¡± The professor answered with an encouraging smile, as she gestured once again to the hologram of that dead and lifeless cell. ¡°The third death, despite its finality, is a slow and gradual process ¡ª typically taking minutes if not hours depending on the species and specific state of the individual in question. Even in its shortest timeframe, environmental mana would find itself seeping gradually into the body through the gradually deteriorating manafield projected by the loosening soul. It is exactly because of this gradual exposure to environmental mana, that the body does not harmonize. Moreover, when factoring in the opposing internal ¡®pressures¡¯ of the already-existing mana present within the Ure¡¯s magical organelles, harmonization becomes even less of a likelihood.¡± I nodded along carefully, jotting down notes, as another thought suddenly slammed into me. ¡°I have a hypothetical question, professor.¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Seeing as gradual exposure to mana is what prevents harmonization, does that mean in instances where a manafield is compromised, that the rapid and uncontrolled influx of mana is what causes liquefaction-, er, harmonization?¡± ¡°That is correct, Cadet Booker.¡± The professor nodded. ¡°That is why I prefaced this entire lesson on death by categorizing it as typical deaths. Deaths that supersede the Three Death Principle, do indeed exist. One of those, being the compromisation of a manafield, thereby leading to uncontrolled mana influx and thus complete harmonization.¡± I nodded along, my eyes narrowing further in thought. ¡°And, as a hypothetical question, Professor. Would that mean that¡­ in the case of a living being without a manafield, that there would be a chance for survival provided that mana is exposed to them slowly and gradually?¡± That question prompted Belnor¡¯s eyes to squint as well, followed quickly by a rapid sigh. ¡°Simply put, no, Cadet Booker. Moreover, survival would be outright impossible considering the inherently destructive nature of mana on the biological aspects of a living being. What you are hypothesizing is a creature, a bastardized interpretation of life, lacking in the very components that allow it to merely exist. If such a thing, dare I even call it living, were to be exposed to the lowest amount, confined to even a single form of mana¡­ then their Ure which have not adapted to resist mana, would either suffer irreparable damage outright and thus die, or liquefy instantaneously. In fact, now that I think about it, even following death; liquefaction would indeed soon follow.¡± ¡°Is this something that¡¯s been tested before, or simply a matter of hypothesis, professor?¡± I drilled further, digging deeper into the very-relevant topic. ¡°Ancient experiments, Cadet Booker. Homunculi ¡ª not life ¡ª forced to exist momentarily in a manaless vacuum, before dying either due to exposure to mana as described, or due to its own maladaptive form being unsuited for life. I would, however, wish not to dwell on such abominable experiments. My answer to this question is final. Is that clear, Cadet Booker?¡± A part of me wanted to once more defy these assertions outright, here, and now. However, that same part of me was tempered by the two previous attempts of this. One of which required constant and consistent undermining of deeply-entrenched worldviews nearly a week straight, in order to truly break through. The other, being poorly received, before being swiftly censored by the shadowy apprentice. Moreover, there was that mystery meeting I still had with the Dean that could be on this exact topic after the class. I¡¯d have to play this smart. ¡°Yes, Professor, thank you for answering my questions.¡± I nodded, as I knew I¡¯d already won something of a victory today by virtue of the comment regarding cells. I needed to lay breadcrumbs, leading to parties truly interested in hearing more approaching me first, as was the case with Etholin. It¡¯d be easier to convince adjacent realmers who were curious on their own volition first, before attempting to deal with the likes of the more bull-headed like with Qiv and Auris. A moment of silence punctuated our exchange, which was suddenly and abruptly filled by the harmonious sounds of what I¡¯d begun to associate with the classroom bell. ¡°We have covered the material which should serve as a solid foundation from here on out, students.¡± Belnor announced, effortlessly switching towards a winding down of the otherwise consistently intense class. ¡°In summary, healing will be focused primarily on addressing common injuries and illnesses of the corpus, and on methods in preventing the first death. Some lessons will focus on a reversal of the first death, whilst a handful will focus on the theories behind healing and its role in dealing with second death. With that, you are dismissed.¡± The band entered almost immediately following Belnor¡¯s dismissal as the same tunes from the past three classes echoed throughout the hall. We waited our turn to leave the room, which at this point was seventh amongst the top ten groups. However, upon departure from the hall, something peculiar happened. As I noticed several groups starting to clump around us, all of which were either outright strangers who¡¯d rarely interacted with us before, or familiar faces such as with the likes of Etholin and Gumigo. ¡°Is it true you have seen the microverse with your very own eyes, newrealmer?¡± Viscount Gumigo spoke first, his flighty and boisterous personality carrying through even in spite of the more inquisitive stance he currently had. ¡°How is it that you managed such a feat?¡± Another voice erupted from one of the members of the crowd. ¡°You claim to be manaless, but it is clear you are simply mana-deficient. Just how is it that a weak-fielded race such as your own managed to independently develop advanced mana-imbued microscopy?¡± A tall, otherwise oftentimes silent member of Etholin¡¯s group spoke in a surprisingly well-put and eloquent manner, throwing me off as even more questions bombarded me all at once. ¡°How do you manipulate light through lenses without the sufficient manipulation of manastreams to either forge or actively shift the quality of lenses?¡± ¡°Is it an artifice?¡± ¡°An artifact? ¡°Was it a wild guess you just ran with, and just found confirmation in this class?¡± ¡°Was it a bluff, newrealmer?¡± ¡°No, of course it wasn¡¯t, she was the one who described the concept prior to Professor Belnor¡¯s full explanations, you imbecile.¡± One of Gumigo¡¯s smaller alligator buddies spoke up defiantly, daringly meeting the two skeptics¡¯ arguments. ¡°Maybe she learned of it in the week leading up to class from the library she so often frequents-¡± ¡°As Lord Ratom said himself, she would¡¯ve called it an Ure, not a Cell, you buffoon!¡± Infighting soon erupted between the gathered students, as I struggled to quell the rapidly developing situation. ¡°Hey hey hey! There¡¯s no need to bicker and argue here. I can answer your questions but it¡¯ll have to be a one question at a time sort of deal.¡± I practically shouted, finally eliciting the attention of the gathered group as they each nodded to varying degrees of acquiescence. ¡°Alright then, let¡¯s start with the first question. Viscount Gumigo? To answer your question, yes. I have indeed seen the microverse with my very own eyes. In fact, it¡¯s quite common for people of my realm to be able to peer into said microverse. With the way things are set up in our education system, it¡¯s a guaranteed fact that almost everyone would have at least glimpsed upon this small and mysterious world once in their lives.¡± ¡°This sounds like a sort of ritual.¡± Gumigo shot back with a set of narrowing eyes. ¡°Is there perhaps one monumental artifice that peers into the microverse in your realm? A relic of the past that you now all worship?¡± ¡°What? No. Sorry, let me clarify. Learning about the microverse is something that¡¯s a standard thing in my world. That¡¯s all I meant from that, and what I was implying by the fact that all have peered into it at least once.¡± ¡°But what purpose is there to learn about such-¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough questions from you, Viscount! The newrealmer promised all of us answers! Now step out of the way before I¡­ what the¡ª¡± Any stray noise would¡¯ve found it difficult to compete with the crowd of nobles and their uproarious bickering around me¡­ and yet somehow, sharp oncoming clicks pierced through the loud air like a knife; cutting everyone else off in the process. All-too familiar footsteps came my way, giving me all the information I needed to know as to who it was who was approaching. Though the faces of everyone around me was already enough to make that clear. ¡°Ahem.¡± Another voice suddenly entered the fray, a familiar one that had the same edge to cut everyone¡¯s chatter short just as it had done back at the mixer. The EVI was quick to assign this newcomer a name ¡ª Apprentice Arlan Ostoy. ¡°I am afraid I will have to borrow the newrealmer for now. She has¡­ prior engagements planned and I would be remiss in my duties if I did not remind her of her obligations.¡± I stood there, refusing to even acknowledge him for a moment, before turning to refocus my entire attention on the much smaller man. I didn¡¯t respond to him right away, merely glaring down at him with unflinching and unfeeling lenses as I could just about make out a small fearful quiver that resulted from the staredown. Then, and only then, did I respond. ¡°Let¡¯s make it quick.¡± Chapter 87: Malicious Compliance The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Main Garden. Local Time: 1700 Emma The gardens were peaceful, tranquil, almost enough to lull you into a sense of unearned calm if you fell for its carefully manicured ambiance. However, just like everything else in the Academy, there was a rhyme and a reason for this; a carefully seeded intent meant to instill meaning into what would otherwise be an arbitrary setting for discourse. In other words, the gardens were a trap for the foolish and less-than-wary. Though¡­ there was also the option that the gardens were just that ¡ª a garden. And maybe, just maybe¡­ I was just projecting my second most negative experience here at the Academy with a locale that didn¡¯t deserve it. Whatever the case was, it was clear the man chose this location for a reason, and the closer I got to where we needed to be, so too did I realize the real intent behind this strange venue for an unprompted meeting. He was standing, or rather, sitting atop of the exact same spot Apprentice Larial was just a week ago on that fateful encounter; on an exact replica of that outdoor chair and table set. This couldn¡¯t have been a coincidence. Nothing could be a coincidence here at the Academy. At least until it did, at which point¡ª ¡°Ah, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The white-robed dean announced with a polite, cordial, almost fatherly tone of voice. ¡°Always a pleasure, and most certainly a departure from routine, to be host to these engagements.¡± He slowly but surely began shifting his gaze from whatever it was he was preoccupied with on the table towards me, something that was generating way more than its fair share of mana radiation warnings than should have been reasonable. ¡°Please, have a seat.¡± He gestured towards the empty seat across from him. It was only after I¡¯d walked past him that I finally saw what he was preoccupied with, and the source of all of those mana radiation pings. On top of the ornate wrought iron table, was a circular wooden tray two feet or so diameter. Atop of which, were about twenty or so different cups, pots, saucers, and containers, surrounding one of those dual-flask siphons containing a clear amber liquid. An accompanying ensemble of floating utensils made their way from one container to another, each of them seemingly involved in some niche, single-purpose use. There were specific tools for stirring, for straining, for mixing dry ingredients, and even to pick apart different dry ingredients in order to layer them meticulously one atop of the other. All of these enigmatic, or frankly unnecessarily complicated processes, were dedicated towards one aim however. An aim that I anticipated almost immediately as soon as a cup and saucer began magically levitating my way, landing in front of me as I took my seat. The whole setup, all of this effort, was an overcomplicated means of brewing¡ª ¡°Tea?¡± The dean inquired warmly, levitating a smaller pot of swirling liquid that continued to slosh and whirl even in spite of there being nothing to keep the whirlpool going. ¡°I¡¯m quite alright professor, but thank you for the offer.¡± I responded politely, cordially, but without any of the familiarity that I¡¯d otherwise reserved for the gang or potential allies. This was a purely professional affair, and despite what this whole whimsy setup and the warmth of the backdrop might otherwise indicate, all of this was just set dressing for a meeting that was bound to be heavy. ¡°Ah, not one for specialty brews, I imagine?¡± The dean replied with a quirk of his brow. ¡°I would if I could, professor. And as much as this might break cultural norms or social protocols, I am afraid I am physically incapable of accepting this offer.¡± I retorted frankly, and despite not displaying any outright malice or annoyance, the statement managed to carry those undertones all the same. ¡°I believe we both understand why this is the case.¡± ¡°Indeed we do.¡± The man responded curtly, his eyes sharpening, if only just for a moment, before retracting the saucer and cup. ¡°But it¡¯s the gesture that counts, no? There are traditions and courtesies that must be upheld, and expectant rules that must be enforced. I do not mind if my efforts go to waste in this case. Though what I will mind, is if my efforts following this will bear the same fate.¡± The mood and tone of the whole scene shifted drastically at this, as several mana radiation signatures beeped, signaling the departure of the shadowy apprentice and the erection of a cone of silence no doubt. ¡°Do you know why I summoned you here today, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t the slightest clue, professor.¡± I responded with barely any emotive resonance, only a neutrality that countered the professor¡¯s more accusatory demeanor. ¡°You have been informed by Apprentice Arlan Ostoy as to your transgressions, have you not?¡± He countered. ¡°I have been informed by Apprentice Arlan Ostoy that I am to censor myself, yes. Though I cannot for the life of me imagine what transgressions he, or you, are currently referring to.¡± The dean narrowed his eyes at this, at my attempt to lawyer my way out of this whole situation. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 250% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS What appeared to be a hologram hovered between us now, set atop of the tea-siphon, displaying a scene seemingly ¡®recorded¡¯ from the POV of the apprentice himself.
¡°I apologize for breaching Expectant Decorum by disrupting your points of personal privilege. However, your current aim-to-disrupt has triggered this outcome. I suggest you avoid broaching this particular talking point, Cadet Emma Booker.¡±
¡°If it needs to be said, Cadet Emma Booker, we are here to discuss your aim-to-disrupt, and the bad-faith statements made in order to incite social confusion, discohesion, and ultimately, disorderly unrest amongst your peers.¡± I took a moment to regard that statement, and like before, a part of me wanted desperately to match the man tit for tat. I reached for my tablet, aiming to play out the recordings of that day as a part of my counterargument. But moreso, simply to flex the capabilities of technology on the stubborn old man. But I didn¡¯t. There was a chance he still was in the dark about that particular capability. And with the drone still in his office¡­ it¡¯d be best to keep that particular flex hidden for now. ¡°I understand that is what was, and clearly still is, being alleged, professor. However I still stand by my statements. I cannot for the life of me understand, nor interpret, how or why my words during the course of that mixer, were considered to be an aim-to-disrupt. I have made my purpose here at the Academy clear from day one, and expanded on my intentions on the day of that emergency assembly. I am here in order to facilitate diplomatic dialogue, to learn and to participate in benign and mutually constructive acts of cultural exchange. If the consequences of my actions and statements were in fact disruptive, then perhaps it is merely due to the inherently disruptive nature of my existence which I cannot mitigate. To ask that I stop would be akin to asking that I drink that cup of tea that was offered. It is a physical impossibility, or at worst, a disingenuous act with an intent to subvert the truth.¡± The professor regarded my retort with a calm and expressionless stare. Though behind those peaceful eyes was a growing frustration which made itself clear in the stubbornness of his response. ¡°The subversion of the truth, can be defined as an intent to misinform, a very act that was observed through your public discourse; a privilege granted by the Nexus in recognition of your rights as a candidate and a student. You are currently testing those privileges, by the very nature of the subjects you choose to consistently fixate and broach.¡± ¡°And what exactly do you classify as a subversion of the truth, Professor? At what specific point did I cross the threshold of benign dialogue to outright disruption?¡± I shot back, cutting right through the fat. ¡°By your very admission, Cadet Emma Booker, the point in which you started discussing your supposed nature and the implications stemming from your supposed manaless disposition.¡± I paused at that acknowledgement, at just how utterly ridiculous it was given everything he knew. ¡°You¡­ you do understand, professor¡­ that my manaless disposition is something that isn¡¯t a lie. Let me cut right to the chase ¡ª nothing I¡¯ve been discussing thus far, or in the mixer for that matter, was in any way a lie. I¡¯ve been attempting to address this politely, but I believe it needs to be said outright. I don¡¯t acknowledge Apprentice Arlan Ostoy, and by extension, your claims of my supposed transgressions¡­ simply because those so-called ¡®transgressions¡¯ were the truth.¡± I paused, making a point to lean in closer, if only by a single inch. ¡°And I know for a fact that you know this to be the case.¡± The professor matched my movements as he leaned forward, pushing aside his alchemy tea set to meet my gaze. Behind those eyes was a knowing look, one that hinted at a mind that knew better. Yet the words that emerged, refused to betray even a hint of it. ¡°It is your truth, Cadet Emma Booker. The truth that you purport to believe. A truth that stands against the truth of this great alliance of realms, and the greatest realm of all, the Nexus itself.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re saying that the truth from a singular newrealm, is enough to threaten the social cohesion and belief of all these other realms?¡± ¡°You delude yourself in your visions of grandeur, Cadet Emma Booker, which comes to prove my point of your lack of self control. No, the point isn¡¯t that you nor your ramblings have the capacity to threaten, let alone topple the cohesion of our great confluence of realms¡­ the point is that the threat of it, as minute as it may be, is what needs to be taken seriously. Status Eternia was, and still is maintained, not just by addressing only the largest of cracks or the grandest of threats, but by focusing on even the most minor of inconveniences ¡ª thereby ensuring stability through the wisdom of foresight and the act of prevention.¡± The man took a moment to pause, leaning in even closer, as he made it clear what was coming next was no longer up for discussion. ¡°But enough of these arguments. Cadet Emma Booker, regardless of whether or not you may wish to admit your transgressions, my decision on your behavior henceforth is final ¡ª I will not take any formal actions against these transgressions, but I expect that no further transgressions will take place following this discussion. You are to cease all public discourse on all matters pertaining to your supposed manaless status, and you are to cease public displays that are aimed at subverting the truth for your own aims.¡± There we go. The gag order. ¡°And what if I refuse?¡± I shot back diplomatically, testing the waters before laying down my own boundaries. ¡°Because by committing to your expectations, we are leaving an existential elephant in the room to roam freely without being addressed. This leaves a massive walking contradiction to your narrative to roam the halls, making things as much of a headache for you as it is for me. Moreover, any future discourse, and any hope at diplomatic dialogue, will be utterly compromised by the lack of foundational trust that must be garnered by addressing the blatant discrepancy that is my very existence. ¡°I believe the general pervasive theory is that in lieu of your manaless claims, you merely are mana-deficient. Or at least, that is what seems to be the word amongst the student body at present.¡± The professor replied promptly, almost as if that answer was supposed to ¡®help¡¯. Which¡­ it did, but it more so helped further his aims than my own. ¡°Moreover, I believe you will find much, much greater obstacles ahead for your diplomatic endeavors than the issue of your supposed manaless status, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The elf¡¯s tone darkened, and so too did the general mood and ambiance around us. ¡°That is, of course, if you do not comply.¡± ¡°Blunt threats are unbecoming of you, professor.¡± I shot back with an Ilunor-grade sneer. ¡°Oh I am afraid you are misinterpreting my intent, Cadet Emma Booker. Indeed, you will find that I am the last person here who wishes to threaten you of all people. You are my student after all, a pupil of the Academy. I am, in fact, protecting you against a threat you very well should be aware of.¡± He spoke cryptically, maintaining both the warm persona and the more severe aura of authority. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Is he talking about Mal¡¯tory? The null? The inquisition or whatever investigation is going on right now? I didn¡¯t reply, refusing to acknowledge it either way. ¡°I am, of course, referring to an event which would have otherwise spelled the end of your diplomatic endeavors here at the Academy ¡ª the death of Lord Lartia.¡± It was at that point that my heart practically sank. As the ramifications of that night started to really hit hard. Practically, I knew that Lartia had died. That fact was more or less certain. But it hadn¡¯t truly sunk in yet what that meant. His death was so removed from everything going on, and so sudden, that it just never clicked with me the way it was right now. ¡°An investigation is naturally underway from the powers that be, with the intent of ascertaining the sequence of events on that tragic night. As it currently stands, the investigation is progressing smoothly, with nothing truly out of the ordinary. However¡ª¡± The man paused for dramatic effect. ¡°¡ªthere are, of course, unverified and unsubstantiated accounts of an anomalous interloper present within the warehouse¡¯s vicinity prior to the explosion.¡± The dean swooshed his hand, taking a moment to gesture towards the magical hologram in front of us, as I was treated to a slideshow of faces that I didn¡¯t recognize at first. It took me a few moments, until it was clear why the dean brought them up. These were townsfolk, all being recorded and interviewed, with each of them giving their account of the strange armored golem they saw dashing through town that night.
¡°It was bizarre!¡± ¡°It ran like it was out to get someone!¡± ¡°It was a MONSTER! A MONSTER I TELL YOU!¡± ¡°I wish there were more people to see it, I swore I saw it, I swear it on my life!¡± ¡°Eh. You get used to these things. Living next to a magic academy? You see sights like these as often as you see miracles in the crownlands.¡± ¡°On my honor, I saw it blitzing as fast as a wild pegasus. I¡¯m just a simple guardsman¡ª I couldn¡¯t have stopped it if I wanted to. We¡¯d have had countermeasures for such wanton speeders and such if not for the local council.¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather refrain from commenting, thank you.¡± ¡°IT TOPPLED MY CABBAGE CART! I DEMAND REPARATIONS!¡±
The dean paused it there, making sure to maintain eye contact as he continued. ¡°I have personally dismissed such tall tales however, especially given these claims occurred concurrently to reports of a werebeast¡¯s cries being heard in the immediate area prior to the explosion.¡± The dean once again gestured to the change in the hologram¡¯s roster of interviewees, this time, the faces were much more recognizable. This set of faces belonged to the warehouse workers I¡¯d managed to save by spooking them off using audioclips of the werebeast¡¯s menacing growls.
¡°Aye this warehouse business? It was most definitely, assuredly, and positively, the act of the werebeast.¡± ¡°EXACTLY! All of us heard it! Even Alath here took the risk of diving head-first into the canal to avoid its wrath!¡± ¡°And everyone knows Alath the levelheaded is not one to overreact! Save for times where it¡¯s life or death!¡±
The dean paused the footage there, before clearing up the hologram altogether. ¡°It must be noted however, that the investigation is still currently ongoing, and nothing is truly set in stone. New evidence could very easily confirm or deny these aforementioned allegations, at which point¡ª¡± The man paused, making it clear what his intentions were. ¡°... I believe diplomacy will become the least of your concerns, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± A moment of silence descended on the conversation following that, as the man made a point to leave that thread hanging, refusing to even punctuate the scene with a sip of his tea. Yet in spite of the obvious blackmail, and the clear power play and threats at play here, there was one question that came to mind above all else. A question that tied back to the veracity of his dubious claims of ¡®protection¡¯, and the lip service he paid to the whole ¡®respect¡¯ he had for his pupils. ¡°So why haven¡¯t you yet?¡± I snapped back bluntly. ¡°Why refrain from simply outing me outright to the investigation? I doubt it¡¯s simply due to the kindness of your heart. So were you just holding onto this as ammunition just in case?¡± ¡°This has all been a matter of reciprocity, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The man announced firmly. ¡°I had hesitated to commit your name, and your involvement, out of respect for your actions in resolving our brief dispute with the library.¡± I took a moment to regard the man¡¯s features as he spoke. His body language, indeed, everything about him at that point felt honest, and not in the usual half-baked honesty he usually fronted. ¡°However. I cannot guarantee that hesitancy and a refusal to divulge information alone, will be enough to ensure a lack of any further testimonies on my part.¡± He quickly added, as despite the honesty presented, that authoritative overture once more returned. ¡°The investigation is still ongoing after all, and I cannot judge just how far my reports of omission will continue to hold their weight without more active involvement.¡± ¡°Are you saying you would willingly commit to testifying on my behalf if it came to it?¡± I blurted out bluntly, prompting the man¡¯s features to curmudgeon, as if he wasn¡¯t expecting something that blunt in response. ¡°In a manner of speaking, in your words and not my own, yes.¡± ¡°And you expect me to believe that when presented with the choice of acquiescing to the pressures of an investigation, and defending a newrealmer, that you would choose the latter rather than the former? Just to maintain a gag order of all things?¡± The man actually sighed this time around, finally coming around to taking a sip of his still piping hot tea. ¡°I do believe I have alluded to this point already, Cadet Booker; just the week prior in my office in fact. But if it needs to be said, then so it shall be done.¡± He shifted his seat forwards, placing both of his hands in front of him. ¡°My aims as the Dean of this Academy have always been the same as any other. I wish to accomplish the goals set forth by our founder, to bring about enlightenment and brotherhood to all that enter through our doors. It may not seem like it to you now, newrealmer, but I hope to one day see your realm joining the ranks of all others that came before it. Just as I one day hope to see you becoming a productive member of the student body. I wish to see all of this done, under the successful completion of your candidacy, under my tenure and reign.¡± And there it was. The difference between the dean and Mal¡¯tory ¡ª the fundamental difference in their underlying interests. The one difference that made the dean tolerable, and Mal¡¯tory impossible to reason with. Their endgame. SIOP Lesson 27: Once the chance for dialogue opens, then anything is possible. The difference between a party open to at least the smallest of dialogues, and a party that refuses any discourse, is not just significant¡­ It''s astronomical. This wasn¡¯t to say that the dean had suddenly become a saint or an ally with that revelation. But it did mean that there was at least a dialogue that could be had, and an angle through which I could approach him. Moreover, it meant that I could play ball and push the limits of his agreements with enough wiggle room to work with. This meant that despite the draconian gag order, that the consequences of defiance would be less catastrophic than what it would have otherwise been with someone like Mal¡¯tory. Beyond that though, the fact that he¡¯d adhered to the whole favor and saving-face system Thacea had mentioned before, proved that the man at least followed some sort of social framework. Though once again, the mileage of how far that could go, remained to be seen. ¡°So to clarify your terms, what you¡¯re asking from me is to quote: cease all public discourse on matters pertaining to my manaless status, and public displays aimed at subverting the truth for my own aims?¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Emma Booker. That should be simple enough to follow through with, no?¡± ¡°Oh yes.¡± I nodded. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like I have too much of a choice, after all.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. En Route to the Armorer¡¯s Workshop. Local Time: 2000 Emma ¡°It would indeed appear as if you lack any choice in the matter, Emma.¡± Thacea remarked darkly, as we just about wrapped up dinner and a complete review of the events at the garden. ¡°Compliance is something the Academy, and by extension the Nexus, is an expert at securing.¡± Thalmin added darkly, just to round out the dour mood from the group. It was, however, Ilunor that remained surprisingly quiet, as if he knew what I was about to propose next. ¡°Yeah. Compliance really is my only move here, isn¡¯t it?¡± I replied, my tone slipping into the facetious which each passing syllable. ¡°But unfortunately for the dean¡­ he didn¡¯t really specify what he meant by my own aims, now did he?¡± I began grinning, as each step we took was punctuated by a small unnoticeable skip of underhanded joy. ¡°We¡¯re still ultimately students at the Academy are we not? And as a result, we¡¯re expected to try our best in class. So, when factoring in the fact that I lack the fancy schmancy magical abilities everyone else has to fast track their way through lessons¡­ what¡¯s stopping me from showing off a bit of tech-based shenanigans here and there?¡± I announced with a mischievous self-satisfied cackle. ¡°After all, it¡¯s not explicitly for my own aims if it¡¯s instead for the purposes of class and academic performance now is it?¡± ¡°Malicious compliance.¡± Both Ilunor and Thalmin for that matter replied at about the same time, surprising me with how they seemed to be on point in this one particular subject matter. ¡°Yessiree!¡± I acknowledged, barely holding down my signature fangy grin. ¡°And I didn¡¯t even need SIOP training for this one. It¡¯s just¡­ something hardwired, hardcoded, and seemingly ingrained in every human being out of principle; second-nature you could say.¡± ¡°That sounds less like a race of noble-minded thinkers and more a race of spiteful gremlins.¡± Ilunor chastised. ¡°We can be both.¡± I offered half-jokingly. ¡°Still, I know you were thinking the same thing here, Ilunor. You¡¯re one for the theatrical, correct? Well, this is the ultimate theater is it not? To act without saying, and to perform without outright spoiling the plot with exposition? Leave the audience hungry for more, and to entice them to return for the next act?¡± The Vunerian paused, as if actually pondering those words, before returning to his half-aggravated persona without acknowledging my question. The silence was enough of an answer for me though. Thacea, having pondered my words up to this point, filled in the void of conversation Ilunor had left behind. ¡°Moreover, since public discourse will be completely removed from your purview, these unexplained, inexplicable, and unexpected acts of manaless miracles would inevitably lead to the natural proliferation of intrigue¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªwhich would allow us to be able to pinpoint the sorts of people who are naturally more inclined towards investigating the unexplainable; the sorts of people that actually have an inclination towards curiosity and who would actively seek out answers. The sort of people that would be most receptive towards more unconventional talking points.¡± I completed Thacea¡¯s thoughts for her, as we both nodded at that point. ¡°Addressing a crowd is a whole other ballgame than dealing with an individual who is actively seeking answers. This whole arrangement might just be to our benefit then.¡± We just about finished crossing that long walkway connecting the armory to the Academy at the end of that whole conversation. However, upon arrival, we were met not with Sorecar¡¯s golems, but a set of gargoyles blocking the way to his door. Moreover, a massive sign that read ¡°Temporarily Inaccessible¡± was carefully placed upon the ornate double doors, prompting us to stop in our tracks. ¡°Students.¡± One of the gargoyles came forward, its voice was coarse, and quite literally gravely. ¡°The armorer is currently indisposed as a result of Academy affairs. Please return from whence you came.¡± ¡°May I ask for how long, or what exactly is going on in there?¡± I shot back. ¡°The armory is expected to return to standard operating hours beginning tomorrow. Now please, return from whence you came.¡± The responses felt¡­ canned and rehearsed. Almost like I was talking to one of those ancient automated response messaging systems, which didn¡¯t bode well for us and today¡¯s sidequest. I would¡¯ve said a staredown soon ensued, but it was more like I was too deep in thought to really come up with a reply, the result being a tense ¡®standoff¡¯ apparently manifesting between the motionless gargoyle and the motionless suit of power armor. ¡°Emma, I suggest that we simply return tomorro-¡± KA-THUNK! The double doors suddenly opened. However, instead of the armorer or even the apprentice, what emerged was a long, elongated, unknown object hidden underneath a massive tarp. Beneath that, were several gargoyles holding this unknown thing aloft, as tens more eventually came out all holding the mysterious object above their heads, walking forward and out of the armory in perfect synchrony. But that wasn¡¯t all. ¡°Hey hey hey! Easy on the artifices! I don¡¯t want to bother our dear armorer with another rush-order if something breaks!¡± A familiar voice caterwauled just out of view from where we were standing. ¡°You! Don¡¯t move that around too fast! It¡¯ll mess up the calibration! You! Pick up the slack, we need those weights on the floor before the mythic encabulator! You! Hurry up with those pathtreads! We can come back for the flyers next time! Come on, come on! You¡¯re not the ones on the starting lines tomorrow!¡± A verifiable stream of gargoyles soon began marching out, each hauling tarp-covered objects of varying sizes. It took about a good five minutes before they were done, and by the end of it, a familiar looking professor emerged from within the armory. A professor that I had yet to have had the pleasure of studying with. A certain feline that stared back at our group with her signature fanged grin, and a posture that screamed PE teacher. ¡°Ah! Why hello hello! Come to take a peek at the goods have we? Well color me flattered, I haven¡¯t had students that interested in the deep lore of physical education in literal decades!¡± ¡°Oh, erm, I¡¯m afraid we were here to meet Professor Pliska, ma¡¯am.¡± I replied frankly. ¡°Ah, well, still! A girl can dream, can she not?¡± She sighed. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯m afraid the man¡¯s busy. Busy with prepwork for the specialized artifices needed in the house choosing ceremony and for tomorrow¡¯s PE class!¡± She managed out a grin as wide as a Cheshire cat, gesturing at the procession of gargoyles now heading off into the distance, carrying off the artifices in question. ¡°I hope you¡¯re ready, students¡­ because tomorrow, we¡¯re going to be putting your skills to the test; both wits and vigor~.¡± Chapter 88: Where Is My Sports Suit?! The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Local Time: 0800 Emma The Grand Concourse of Learning was, for the first time this week, not our destination. In fact, following breakfast, we made our way straight past its large expansive spaces, out and through several open-air hallways, and towards what was effectively the exact opposite direction of Sorecar¡¯s workshop. This was an area of the Academy that the EVI had yet to map, which prompted the virtual intelligence to go into overdrive now as we were inundated with sights, sounds, and a myriad of architectural splendors that really put me in mind of one very specific aesthetic ¡ª Victorian Gymnasiums. The whole structure looked like a cross between a Victorian era train station and greenhouse, and if I were to squint my eyes, I could honestly see a vague resemblance between it and the original Crystal Palace; a change of pace from the architectural style of the main castle. Instead of more cobblestone and deep slate, we were instead treated to tons and tons of wrought iron and steel, forged and curved into anything and everything from grand columns to ornate struts, all of which criss-crossed and encased a structure composed mostly out of stained glass. The latter didn¡¯t just contain cool designs or patterns however, but intricately detailed landscapes, characters, and even animals; all perfectly preserved within its crystalline form. Some of the scenes were about what you¡¯d expect, from knights on horseback in jousting competitions, to wizards locked in battle with dragons and lovecraftian eye-monsters. Though quite a few were much more unique than that, displaying what I could only describe as magical sports that ranged from flying competitions with wizards soaring through the clouds, to what appeared to be martial arts involving specific ¡®elements¡¯ ranging from earth to steel to fire and water. However, the closer I got, the more I realized that the seemingly static figures depicted within the glass were in fact¡­ moving. Slowly, sure, as if stricken with a terminal case of cinematic slow-mo like something out of a TR Lorian film, but it was movement all the same. The reasons behind which, if not obvious enough, were made all the more clear by the blaring of several continuous mana radiation warnings. Though it quickly became clear to me that not everyone shared the same enthusiasm for this aesthetically pleasing structure, as I turned back to see close to a hundred souls more focused on trying to find a sense of direction and our missing teacher. Much to everyone¡¯s annoyance however, neither could be found. Which prompted a slow, but expected, gradual climb of incessant bickering between the student body. That was, until Qiv Ratom finally brought some semblance of order, pointing towards a poster conveniently pinned onto a little bulletin board next to one of the massive structure¡¯s entrances. The gorn-like lizard stepped up to the plate, reaching for the loose poster. However, just as quickly as he¡¯d taken initiative did he immediately leap back. The poster began expanding, as if unrolling from an infinite stack of papers, until finally, it reformed itself in the form of what I could only describe as an origami-Chiska. ¡°All students are to enter through this door and follow the rules of the Grand Gymnasium written within!¡± The origami-Chiska spoke, her voice somehow coming through to the tune of both mana radiation warnings and the crumpling of paper. ¡°I will grant you thirty minutes to be acquainted with the rules, after which, I expect to see you in the gymnasium¡¯s main hall! Remember, physical education is as much about exercising personal initiative, as it is about exercising your mortal forms!¡± Not a moment following the speech did the origami-Chiska unfold back into the little bulletin board, after which, all text that was previously written on it slowly faded into nothing. I took a few moments to regard that whole¡­ scene, all the while Qiv once more stepped back up to the front of the crowd, regaining his composure and promptly following those instructions to a T. ¡°You heard the professor! It would seem as if today¡¯s lessons come in the form of a gauntlet of challenges. Let us prove to the professor that we are worthy of our titles as pupils of the Transgracian Academy, lest we wallow in indecision.¡± He gestured towards the entrance, taking the initiative, and entering first. The whole class followed suit like a pack of lemmings, entering what looked and felt like a cross between a massive train terminal concourse, and a souped-up ultra-luxe changing room. It was the latter observation however that would quickly prove to hold more weight than I¡¯d initially thought, as the whole class, at Qiv¡¯s prompting, was drawn to a massive wooden board. On which were rules written in High Nexian, all of which were translated to English in the blink of an eye courtesy of the EVI. The rules were¡­ obviously, catered towards the magical arts. Many of which seemed oddly specific. With things ranging from SPORTSMANSHIP IS KEY: NO DRAINING OF THE AMBIENT MANA AROUND YOUR OPPONENT to things like NO ASTRAL PROJECTION. And whilst my attention was almost entirely drawn to the weirder rules, it seemed as if there was one, easily overlooked rule, that caught the eye of the entire year group. ¡°And so the Academy wishes to humiliate us once more.¡± Ilunor spoke under a hushed breath. ¡°Wait what?¡± I cocked my head, prompting the Vunerian to point and highlight one of the rules hidden within a long laundry list of many others. ALL STUDENTS ARE TO CHANGE TO SPORTS-APPROPRIATE ATTIRE PRIOR TO ENTRY ¡°Okay.¡± I shrugged. ¡°What¡¯s so humiliating about that?¡± I offered, turning to Thalmin who was quick to comply nonchalantly with a burst of mana radiation¡ªinstantaneously swapping out the ceremonial armor getup he usually wore for what I could only describe as an outfit analogous to that of full body athletic wear. One that covered him from neck to toe, and from shoulder to wrist, in a fabric that resembled a strange cross between modern lycra, and the padding of a fencing kit. This whole change had occurred so quickly, that I had to do a double take. As what I saw was literally a jump and a mid-air spin, akin to what you¡¯d see in The Life Simulation games. Though despite this insanely convenient stunt, others however, strangely enough, didn¡¯t seem to follow suit. With the exception of Thacea, Ilunor, Qiv and his gang, and a few others, there seemed to be a particular lack of instantaneous outfit changes amongst the crowd. ¡°What¡¯s humiliating is the fact that there was no forewarning of this.¡± Ilunor noted, stepping towards me in an outfit that I could only describe as a polo player¡¯s outfit, complete with leather riding gloves and a cap to boot. ¡°Thankfully, it would seem as if everyone in our peer group knows the unique and practical skill of instantaneous dressage, with a catalog of outfits readily accessible. So, whilst we are immune to the humiliation, the rest¡­ do not seem so fortunate you could say.¡± Ilunor gestured towards the crowd that, at this point, seemed to be at a complete loss for action. Many of them opted to snap their fingers in lieu of magically swapping clothes. Though this resulted in little but confused looks, and frustrated huffs. ¡°Where are my familiars?!¡± ¡°Where are my attendants?¡± ¡°This will not do!¡± ¡°Where. Is. My. Sports. Suit?!¡± The scene quickly descended into outright panicked frenzy, prompting Qiv to once more take charge, and with a surge of mana radiation, he raised his voice far louder amongst the crowd. ¡°It would seem as if this building does not allow for the presence of personal attendants, magical or otherwise. So please, proceed to any of the personal powder rooms situated on either side of the concourse. There seems to already be academy-issued sportswear for those among us currently lacking in appropriate attire.¡± ¡°Really?¡± I shot back, turning towards Ilunor with a cocked head. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s what they were worried about?¡± The Vunerian sighed loudly in response, placing a palm above his snout in a display of dramatized frustration. ¡°Careful about such sweeping statements, earthrealmer. Your commoner heritage is showing, and it bodes poorly for the optics of our group.¡± I held my breath, just flinching at his antics. ¡°In any case, yes. That¡¯s what they were worried about. For the well-to-do, and those of noble heritage, a personal dresser, most commonly a servant at home, or a familiar when in foreign lands, will attend to one¡¯s needs. The act of dressage is one such basic need to be fulfilled. The likes of which are clearly being woefully ignored here by our air-headed professor. An act of humiliation, and one that does not bode well for her tenure.¡± ¡°So¡­ why don¡¯t you guys¡ª¡± I paused, before reaching my own conclusions. ¡°You¡¯ve probably had to learn the speedy magical way of dressing because of¡ª¡± ¡°The needs of battle.¡± Thalmin interjected first. ¡°The cutthroat world of avinor court politics, sometimes necessitating time-saving measures.¡± Thacea continued. Which left Ilunor, who once more sighed whilst crossing his arms. ¡°Practicality, as sometimes my precious time would be far too wasted at the hands of a servant. I sometimes require several outfit changes in a day, and I demand high standards, which I find a servant to be too incompetent to live up to.¡± I was too busy being completely blown away by sheer culture shock at this point, so much so that I didn¡¯t even notice the arrival of the anthropomorphic butterfly Lady Ladona, who managed to sneak up on me. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker.¡± She managed out in that signature condescending sneer, pausing as she made a point to look me over, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. ¡°Are you not going to change into the appropriate attire?¡± I sighed, the EVI filtering that out as I spoke. ¡°We¡¯ve been through this, Lady Ladona. In fact, you¡¯ve come to the same conclusions yourself, haven¡¯t you? I literally cannot change into anything other than this suit of armor. So just tell me what convoluted scheme you have cooking up in your head so that we can just get to class, please.¡± ¡°So very crass and to the point.¡± She snapped back, ¡®tsking¡¯ all the while as she turned to the rest of the group. ¡°Is she always like this?¡± Silence was her only response, even from the likes of Ilunor who just ignored her outright. ¡°Well, I beg your pardon but I regret to be the bearer of bad news, or the purveyor of the obvious.¡± She pointed to the rule board behind her. ¡°However, I am afraid that if we are to respect the rules of this class, you require some form of a change of apparel, one that would best fit the Academy¡¯s definition of¡ª¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 230% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Ladona was stopped mid-sentence, as she, along with myself, were both thrown off by the sudden burst of mana radiation, and more specifically, what came after it. As I soon found my reinforced armored neckline covered by a bright red scarf, one that was wrapped around me by none other than Thacea. On it, was what seemed to be the Academy¡¯s crest, and the words ¡®Physical Education¡¯ embroidered onto it. ¡°Is this some sort of a jape?¡± Was Ladona¡¯s only response, her eyes narrowing towards Thacea now, who simply conjured up the course syllabus we were handed in orientation. ¡°Whilst I do agree that Professor Chiska¡¯s¡­ less than courteous handling of this first class leaves a lot to be desired, I must give her credit where credit is due. She does seem to take into account the few variations and special exceptions granted to differences in body morphology and physiological quirks. To spare you the specifics from the syllabus, which I assume you must already be familiar with, it would appear as if the only caveat to these exceptions is for the pupil in question to have, and I quote: ¡°A recognizable symbol of the Academy, and the specific class in question.¡± The avinor princess flicked away the syllabus with an elegant hand motion. ¡°I believe this fulfills those requirements. Moreover, if my actions have resulted in discrepancies contrary to the stated rules, then I will be more than happy to discuss them in length with Professor Chiska herself.¡± The butterfly, to her credit, didn¡¯t once flinch at Thacea¡¯s retorts. In fact, she seemed to glare down at her, despite the mere inch worth of difference in height. ¡°And so the child dresses their doll.¡± She retorted wistfully. ¡°But I digress. I am certain that the honorable Chiska will have her way with you if she so wishes. I am merely here to provide a friendly reminder. But alas, it would seem as if you¡¯ve thought of everything, Princess Dilani. I will bother you no longer.¡± She made an effort to turn away, but not before craning her head around for one final jab. ¡°Enjoy your broken toy, princess.¡± I didn¡¯t think it was even possible, but here I was, staring down at someone who managed to push all the wrong buttons in a way that was proportionally worse than the Vunerian. I could practically hear my heart thumping behind my eardrums now, as my face flushed red with rage and a heat that couldn¡¯t be contained by the suit¡¯s climate control systems. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. However, before I could even get a word out, a shrill whistling sound managed to overtake the attention of everyone, bringing out most of the powder rooms¡¯ occupants practically on cue. ¡°All students! Proceed to the Central Hall when ready!¡± An incorporeal voice blared out. Prompting Qiv, now dressed in a renaissance-esque billowy shirt with era-appropriate pants to boot, to lead the way. ¡°You heard the professor! Let us move forth!¡± He announced, corralling everyone through a massive passageway and into what appeared to be a massive stadium, complete with bleachers, benches, and stands, as well as several observation posts where gargoyles stood atop of; controlling light fixtures, ropes, and a whole host of magical and mechanical implements. All in all, the whole place looked eerily familiar to your standard track and field stadium, with an ovoid wall filled with benches overlooking a patch of greenery down and in the very center of the space. A series of orange ¡®tracks¡¯ delineated with long continuous white stripes separated each runner¡¯s ¡®lane¡¯, which left the middle greenery eerily empty, made even more conspicuous by the massive wrought-iron and glass enclosed skylight that allowed tinted sunlight through its stained patterns. The sunlight seemed to dance and ripple, as if following the animated scenes on the stained glass. This continued only for a few more moments however, until the sunlight was suddenly and abruptly overcast by a looming shadow. A shadow that started small, but grew larger and larger until¡ª CRASH! The entirety of that central dome shattered. CREAK! The wrought-iron support struts bent and crumpled. ROAAAARRRR! And a literal dragon arrived on scene. THUMP THUMP THUMP! Its wings generated a loud series of stomach-churning vibrations with every flap. The gusts threatened to knock some students off their feet and propelled more of the rubble towards us. However, before any of the glass shards even had a chance to hit us, a blurry, almost indistinct haze of orange managed to zip its way from the back of the dragon, leaping onto the still-falling support struts, before finally, unfurling an oversized upside-down parachute that managed to capture and cinch all of the falling debris in as little time as the structural failure of the dome itself. And whilst the unaided eye would¡¯ve simply witnessed a streak of orange darting back and forth, a quick look over at the slow-mo footage revealed none other than a particularly speedy feline taking superhuman speed to the next level. The parachute full of debris landed on the grass field in a satisfying THUD, followed closely in tow by Chiska guiding what seemed to be a modestly sized wyvern down next to it. ¡°WELCOME!¡± She announced, hopping off of the wyvern with an unnecessary and overly-showy backflip. ¡°Welcome, students, to the amazing world of physical education! I know you might not think too much of this course, nor its contents. But should you put your heart and mind to it, then that¡ª¡± She paused, before pointing towards both the wyvern, and the pile of debris behind her. ¡°¡ªwill become a trivial matter that anyone here can accomplish.¡± The reactions from the crowd¡­ were decidedly mixed. With about half of the year group putting up a face of complete disinterest, and a good quarter looking intrigued, but moreso the sort of ¡®intrigued¡¯ that Qiv loved to put up just for show. It was that last quarter however that was actually captivated by the whole show. Though the mileage of that interest seemed to vary a lot, ranging from Gumigo¡¯s wide-eyed shock, to Thalmin¡¯s bold-faced grin of excitement. ¡°Oh, and when I say everything I just did will become a trivial matter, should you put your heart to it. I do mean everything.¡± The professor reiterated, gesturing towards the wyvern this time around. ¡°Because while the one-note animal familiar may be useful for dress-up, you never know what you¡¯re missing until you¡¯ve tamed yourself an actual Grade A familiar.¡± She chuckled, snapping her fingers and prompting the hauler truck sized wyvern to simply lift off, shooting up like a rocket, up and through the broken skylight. ¡°Anyways, that leads me to my next point. Expectations and evaluations. Now, contrary to all of your other classes, there will be no written assessment! For you shall be assessed on how well you manage to accomplish the core goals of this class. Does anyone, anyone at all, know what these core goals may be?¡± She paused for effect, as if waiting for someone to chime in. Qiv, as always, raised his hand high. ¡°Yes, Lord Qiv!¡± ¡°To learn the principles of magical augmentation to the physical form, to enhance both your body¡¯s martial abilities and feats of athletics, as well as to learn the ways of enhancing both your stamina and constitution. The former, being quite self-explanatory, and the latter, being subjects useful for the universal application of magic.¡± ¡°Correct, Lord Qiv! Five points!¡± Chiska beamed back, still maintaining that high-energy excitement she seemed to be in abundant supply of. ¡°Yes, those are the core goals for this class. Simple! Clean! Efficient! And very much easy to accomplish!¡± The professor stood tall, placing both hands by her hips in a ¡®heroic¡¯ pose. ¡°Easy, being the operative word here.¡± She shifted her tone of voice for a moment, to one of mild disappointment. ¡°Long gone are the days of the battle for familiars, and long gone are the days of compulsory drake riding. Academy reforms have made it such that physical education has been reoriented towards servicing the needs of a contemporary world for a contemporary noble. Which means I am obligated to inform you that most of what counts towards a passing grade, is participation in evaluatory activities. However¡ª¡± Chiska paused for dramatic effect, turning towards us with a mischievous smile. ¡°¡ªwhilst no longer compulsory, these activities, and more, are without a doubt, still classes I will teach. Because even if this class no longer requires compulsory trials in order to pass, they will still count towards the difference between an excellent, good, or an average passing grade!¡± The feline cackled, standing there triumphantly as she effortlessly lifted the wreckage up back towards the ceiling, reassembling the whole thing with a single snap of her finger. ¡°Anyways! That¡¯s enough blabber! We¡¯re here to perform some physical activities, so let¡¯s get started!¡± The professor quickly gestured towards the track, and without breaking a sweat, managed to expand it to the point where there were at least a hundred lanes now. ¡°We¡¯re going to be doing two main exercises today! Strength, and endurance! Now, none of you are going to like this¡­ but we¡¯ll be dividing them into two categories. First, is a test to determine exactly what your fitness levels are without magical augmentation.¡± The whole class, predictably, began an immediate uproar against this. Though thankfully, Qiv managed to settle them back down as easily as he always did. ¡°I know, tragic, a literal cataclysm of the highest order.¡± Chiska shot back sarcastically. ¡°But it is an unfortunate truth. Today¡¯s lessons will be focused on determining your baseline physicality, as well as your baseline physicality when augmented by magic. These scores will be necessary for me to plan a personalized training regimen for the rest of the school year. So, with all that being said, let¡¯s start the endurance aspect of this exercise.¡± Chiska reached a hand forwards, turning part of the stands and bleachers into a grand staircase down towards the field. The entire year group, under much urging from Qiv, began filing down one by one. It took five minutes before everyone was ready, and several more minutes for everyone to find their place on the oversized track. At which point, Auris, Ladona, Qiv, and a few others glared at me with varying levels of disdain. It was Auris, however, that raised his hand to address the elephant in the room. ¡°Professor?¡± ¡°Yes, Lord Ping! What is it?¡± ¡°Why is the newrealmer here?¡± The professor glared at Auris with a look of complete befuddlement, cocking her head in the process. ¡°She¡¯s a student¡­ participating in this class¡­ now if you have an actual question in mind, I would prefer to¡ª¡± ¡°I apologize for my lack of clarity professor. But what I mean is simply this ¡ª we have all heard the rumors that the newrealmer is, for lack of a better term, mana deficient. She lacks the ability to engage in the magical arts as a result. Would it be fair then, for her to participate in this, and the subsequent mana-augmented physical exercises?¡± The bull offered, laying down his ultimatum with a glint of satisfied malice in his eyes. ¡°I am merely concerned for both the welfare and the pride of our mana deficient peer, professor.¡± ¡°I have been informed of this unfortunate situation, yes.¡± Chiska nodded, with a quick twitch of her ear. ¡°Whilst I would have preferred to have kept it a private matter, it seems as if that option is no longer possible. It has been decided that Cadet Emma Booker will not be participating in mana-based activities within this course.¡± That seething frustration from before came back almost instantly, and it was only my small hope of Chiska¡¯s strength of character that prompted me to keep on listening. ¡°However! I have personally petitioned for Cadet Emma Booker to be able to participate in activities at my discretion. And it is my discretion that Cadet Emma Booker is to be granted the ability to participate in non-mana augmented physical trials. That is all, Lord Ping.¡± That answer¡­ didn¡¯t seem to satisfy either me, nor Ping. However, the fact that the professor had actively petitioned for that spoke a lot to not just her character, but her aims. It was because of this that I raised my hand, realizing that there very well could be some wiggle room to be had here. ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker? I do apologize for not informing you earlier. It was my intent to inform you following the conclusion of the first round of activities.¡± ¡°That¡¯s alright, professor. However, I did have a point I wish to raise.¡± ¡°Go on?¡± ¡°Considering that my ability to participate is up to your discretion, would it be possible to ask if I could participate in all activities henceforth? As in, both mana augmented and non-mana augmented activities?¡± The professor took a moment to actually ponder that question. Though that moment of silence was enough for Ping, and a whole litany of other students, to butt in. ¡°What?! Preposterous! Absolutely ludicrous! The girl is out of her mind!¡± ¡°While I am certain she may perform admirably in the unaugmented aspects of physicality, there is surely an incongruence here between confidence and reality when it comes to the magically augmented physical trials?¡± ¡°I say, we let her. It¡¯s going to be oh-so satisfying to see that newrealmer smugness wiped from her mana-deficient face.¡± ¡°The newrealmer wishes to save face for what is effectively a failing and a fault integral to her very being.¡± Ping announced, louder than the rest of the crowd. ¡°Admirable, but foolish. Moreover¡­¡± He paused, turning to Ladona, who picked up where he left off. ¡°Surely this is something of an insult to the infallibility of your word, and the principles of your class, Professor.¡± The butterfly quickly added, the pair practically ¡®tag-teaming¡¯ the fast-paced insults geared towards me, through questions posed to the professor. ¡°Then how about you put your money where your mouth is, Lord Ping.¡± I shot back with a glare. ¡°And you too, Lady Ladona.¡± The pair turned towards one another, before breaking out in a fit of dry chuckles. ¡°Are you proposing a wager, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± I answered, stopping the both of them in their tracks. ¡°Why not. Depends though. What¡¯s the wager?¡± ¡°What you are currently campaigning for, obviously. Your right to participate in magically-augmented activities.¡± Ladona took charge, before turning towards the professor. ¡°Provided of course, the ancient rules of this class still apply despite its modern moniker, professor?¡± The professor took a deep breath, shooting back a frustrated gaze towards Ladona. ¡°I am surprised you know of the deep lore of physical education, Lady Ladona. But yes, I am a traditionalist, so the Rite of Challenges still do apply.¡± ¡°Splendid!¡± Ladona managed out with an insect-like chattering. ¡°Then I propose, with respect, to entertain the newrealmer¡¯s¡­ eccentric desires. I propose to you, Cadet Emma Booker, to prove yourself worthy of partaking in these mana-based activities¡­ without the aid of mana enhancement as per your kind¡¯s¡­ natural shortcomings.¡± ¡°To do so, Cadet Emma Booker, you must beat the party with which your wager is hedged upon. In this case, Lord Auris Ping.¡± Chiska clarified. ¡°That is, if you still wish to entertain this wager at all.¡± Auris chimed in, prompting the laughter of almost the entirety of class to follow shortly thereafter. That laughter, however, was short-lived. ¡°Yeah, I accept.¡± I answered bluntly and without much fanfare, bringing the derision to a short and abrupt end. ¡°More than that, I doubt that¡¯ll be enough of a challenge, really. So I propose we make this a bit more interesting.¡± I continued, completely side-stepping Ping and Ladona¡¯s attempts at belittlement. ¡°Top of the class, for both strength and endurance. All or nothing.¡± Time seemed to suddenly come to a stop, and so did any and all remaining hushed whispers, as all eyes were now on Ping. ¡°I accept, newrealmer.¡± The man replied without even a flinch, as the beginnings of a grin started to form at the edges of his muzzle. ¡°This should prove¡­ entertaining.¡± He managed out with a chuckle. This whole exchange elicited a fangy, mischievous grin from the likes of Chiska. ¡°Then it is settled. Cadet Emma Booker, your Rite of Challenge today, is to prove your worthiness in order to participate in future mana-augmented physical activities. To do so, you must beat Lord Auris Ping in both the non-mana augmented and the mana-augmented challenges! And, should you so wish it, you must also make your way to the top of class on all of today¡¯s exercises. Do you accept?¡± ¡°Yes, professor.¡± I responded without hesitation, my unblinking lenses soon locking onto my unsuspecting game. ¡°I accept.¡± Chapter 89: The Eternal Hunter My hawkish gaze never once left Auris Ping, even as Chiska shifted her attention towards the rest of class. ¡°Alright then! Let¡¯s get everyone on the same page! First off, the basic rules!¡± Professor Chiska beamed out brightly. However, as the class began fixating on her unnecessarily complicated rulebook¡¯s worth of expectations, I was instead turning inward towards my partner in crime. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Initialize sports mode.¡± I ordered with a devious grin. ¡°...¡± ¡°Unrecognized command.¡± ¡°Alright, alright. Let me rephrase that. Ahem. Initialize High Performance Manual Maneuverability Mode.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± Several things started happening all at once. [Alert! HP-MM Mode Active.] First, there was a slight, but noticeable shift in my HUD. Which changed from the typical MIL-HUD on standby mode, to one more resembling what you¡¯d find in the cockpit of a high-performance racing rig. [Specify performance parameters.] Next, came the absolute maze of customizability options, with nested menus and all sorts of virtual sliders, toggles, and raw numbers to toy around with. ¡°Preset values? Smart Auto-Adjustment? Or manual value settings?¡± The EVI quickly chimed in, really living up to the virtual assistant part of its mission specs. ¡°Preset, personal list, FROM-1.¡± ¡°Accessing FROM-1 [FREE RANGE OF MOTION PRESET 1]. Alert: This preset value is not rated for combat or active mission profiles.¡± ¡°I know. But this isn¡¯t combat nor an active mission. It¡¯s a contest. And I want it to be as fair as I can manage. I¡¯m more than happy to unleash the full might of technology on Auris when competing with him on a magical playing field. But when it comes to just contests of dumb muscle? I¡¯m not the one to just cheat.¡± ¡°... Acknowledged. Applying FROM-1 values.¡± My body was immediately met with something it was spared from for most of the week ¡ª resistance. As I felt my joints stiffen, my muscles tighten, and the indescribable smoothness of movement that came with exoskeleton-enhanced powered movement, suddenly replaced with the familiarity of partially-powered exercises. Something that both Captain Li and I absolutely loathed, but that was necessary to ensure I didn¡¯t become too accustomed to having the suit move for me, instead of with me. The suit was now operating just above the threshold where the armor¡¯s weight would become an encumbrance, assisting me just enough that my movements were for all intents and purposes, as close to unassisted and unarmored as possible. In short, the armor was neither inhibiting or enhancing my movements now. This was raw human power, up against what Chiska promised to be raw alien power. [Alert! Exoskeleton undervolting detected in servo groups, 1, 2, 3, 4¡ª] ¡°Deactivate notifications.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. System alert summary: all motor systems operating at minimal assistance. Alert: Minimal assistance threshold reached. Operator now responsible for unassisted ROM.¡± ¡°Good! That¡¯s the intent. Now, just be sure to override my settings if something goes wrong or something goes haywire. I¡¯m fair, but not bullheaded and dumb.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Now, let¡¯s warm up.¡± What followed was a series of movements that came surprisingly naturally, as the armor twisted and bent in places that looked like it shouldn¡¯t to the outside observer. So much so that quite a few became distracted from Chiska¡¯s long-winded explanations, with their focus shifted almost entirely to me. Though it was clear I wasn¡¯t alone in this endeavor, as a small handful of other students seemed to have started their own warmups. Thalmin, Qiv, and even Auris Ping of all people started their own little routines, either jumping in place, stretching, or performing a whole host of acrobatics in anticipation of what was to come. Chiska, nodding approvingly at this, continued on unabated. ¡°You are to go as far as you can, as fast as you can, at the pace you wish to set for yourselves! I will not be babysitting you for you all should be able to handle a simple run! Aim to last as long as you can, however! This is as much a test about how you handle yourselves without magic, as much as it is about your physical potential! Be aware of your limits, and manage your energies well for both parts of the mana-less portion of our activities, as we will be transitioning from one to the other seamlessly! Be warned though, exhaustion can easily creep up on you without the aid of magic. So pace, pause, and pace! And remember, this is not a race!¡± The professor paused, before turning towards both Auris and I. ¡°For the rest of you, that is. In which case, let us begin shall we?¡± A single hand was raised from amidst the crowd, as Ilunor stared lazily at the professor, his arms crossed and his gaze filled with disinterest. ¡°Professor, if I may?¡± ¡°Yes, Lord Rularia!¡± ¡°Will this exercise count towards our core evaluation?¡± ¡°Unfortunately not, Lord Rularia.¡± The professor answered with narrowed eyes and heightened suspicion. ¡°It will, however, count towards your grades as a whole.¡± ¡°Thank you, professor.¡± Was Ilunor¡¯s only response, my eyes narrowing as I attempted to gauge his angle, especially with his outfit consisting of riding boots and a stereotypically posh jockey getup that looked completely unsuited for running. ¡°Are there any more questions?¡± The professor turned to the rest of class with a bright smile, her excitement seemingly untempered by Ilunor¡¯s strange and out-of-left-field question. Not a single soul responded, with almost everyone¡¯s eyes either firmly fixated towards their own lane, or each other. Fingers twitched. Bodies flinched. And those students who had ears to emote with or tails to swish with, either stiffened up or double-downed on their movements. ¡°Alright then!¡± She spoke with finality, eliciting sharpened exhales and unsteady breaths. ¡°Ready!¡± She raised her hand high. ¡°Steady!¡± Her fingers contorted, poised for a snap. ¡°Go!¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 100% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A loud, thunderous, SNAP, erupted from between her fingers. At which point, all hell broke loose. And mistakes were quickly made. One, after another, would-be sprinters and one-hundred-meter-dashers began zooming right off of the starting line. My racing HUD, and its sports-mode reticles, began highlighting the positions of each of these students, as the EVI began playing the role of sports commentator and situational announcer ¡ª giving me a picture-in-picture view of the positions of all the students, their names, and their current speed and trajectory. It was like having one of those live animation feeds of racers in a circuit up next to a sports broadcast. Except instead of watching it from home¡­ I was in the thick of it. Several names started passing me by. Most I had no relation with, some that I vaguely recognized from the post-class meetups, like Cynthis, and many more that I had a bit more acquaintance with. Etholin. Gumigo. And the entirety of the crocodile-person¡¯s peer group for that matter, began absolutely smoking me. As the distance between all of them, and a good chunk of the class, began climbing. First by barely an arm¡¯s length, then rapidly rocketing off into a good chunk of the field. Eventually, despite my steady pace, some even reached the coveted 100 meters in front of me, completing their hundred meter dash and attaining victory over the foolish newrealmer! Or at least, that would have been the case¡­ if this were a 100 meter dash. Things quickly took a turn for the worst following that point. As legs started to wobble. Arms started to flail. Tails began swaying this way and that as those students that had committed to the wrong competition began to drop like flies. THWUMP! Down went the first student, a smaller, round orb of a mammal. FWEEEEE! A whistle sounded quickly after, as Chiska magically materialized right next to the student, and began the back and forth that would lead to their voluntary removal from the race. ¡°Ready to withdraw, Lord Grila?¡± ¡°Y-yes p-professor.¡± He huffed out, prompting the EVI to quickly scroll through the massive list of students on our screen, crossing out number 23 off the list. [Competitor No. 23 has been eliminated] ¡°Poor choice of words, EVI.¡± I muttered out under a completely unstrained breath, keeping my eyes forward, and completely ignoring my own place in the race. ¡°Note to Operator: redundant verbal communication will result in overall decreased aerobic capacity. Mission commander is advised to keep all redundant communication to a minimum, to maximize probability of mission completion.¡± ¡°Okay, Aunty.¡± I chided back. THWUMP! Just as another student crumpled over into a pathetic pile of noble meat. As if on cue, the feline professor arrived, her tail swishing every which way. ¡°Ready to withdraw, Lady Ladona?¡± ¡°Mmm¡­ yes professor.¡± The butterfly muttered out, prompting the EVI to strike yet another name from the list. [Competitor No. 45 has been eliminated] This would be a recurring pattern now, as I began jogging past the points in which these would-be dashers had fallen. As more¡ª [Competitor No. 47 has been eliminated] ¡ªand more¡ª [Competitor No. 53 has been eliminated] ¡ªand more¡ª [Competitor No. 77 has been eliminated] ¡ªof my competition started falling to the wayside. I pressed on unabated, maintaining a steady, casual, unbothered pace as I passed by gasping, heaving, and worn-out nobles; each one of them dropping like flies around me. Soon enough, we started arriving at names that I recognized. As Etholin was the first acquaintance to fall. To his credit though, the ferret didn¡¯t just crumple up into a ball. Instead, he wound himself down, taking heavy breaths as he did so, prompting the professor to pull out some sort of a magical implement to tap his chest with. ¡°Are you feeling okay, Lord Esila?¡± ¡°Y-yes professor. But¡­ I would like to withdraw from this activity now please.¡± He spoke softly, prompting the professor to whisk him away back to the bleachers. [Attention: Approaching half-way point; five-hundred meters.] By the time we¡¯d reached the half-way mark, about half of the participants had either tapped out or crumpled into a heap. Gumigo, surprisingly, had recovered from his mistakes and had begun pacing himself. Though sadly, that wouldn¡¯t last for long. As he too succumbed to the error of his ambitions. Though he wouldn¡¯t be without his compatriots. As an increasing number of students began withdrawing near the three-quarters mark, each of them slowing down gradually, all of them huffing up a storm; barely any of them even physically cognizant by the time I¡¯d casually made my way past them. The EVI, of course, was more than happy to list each and every one of the fallen. By the time the next hundred meter stretch was done, just over a handful of people were left in the ¡®race¡¯. Two fell just before the three-quarters mark. Thacea falling quickly after. It was around this point, as we rounded the corner, that I realized that out of our peer group, only Thalmin and I remained. Which prompted the question¡­ If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Just where was Ilunor? The answer to that question came as quickly as it arose, as we finally reached the first lap and approached the starting line. ¡­ The Vunerian had never even left. Moreover, about a quarter of the class had refused to even participate. To add insult to injury however, Ilunor had somehow manifested a folding chair and a table out of thin air, sitting atop of it and enjoying what I could only describe as a full afternoon tea set. Rostario sat opposite of him, as they began pointing their dainty binoculars at us as we passed them. ¡°I do not see the reason why you went through the effort of setting up for tea, Lord Rularia. This whole charade should be over in less than a few more laps!¡± The hamster spoke first, taking a sip of his tea as he did so. ¡°Intuition, my fair fellow. Intuition. Intuition and faith. That is, unless you think less of your group¡¯s master ¡ª Lord Qiv Ratom?¡± Ilunor replied with a snide grin, just as we ran past them, and another student pulled out from the race. [Attention: Lap One Complete; one-thousand meters.] This left only four of us remaining. With Qiv in the lead. Auris right behind him. Thalmin just short of Auris. And me smack dab last. All of them had settled into their own pace. But I wasn¡¯t the least bit bothered by being last. This was a test of endurance after all. And everyone had just bet against the very species evolved to do exactly that. So while the rest of the remaining competition started hitting their second wall, I was just starting to hit my stride. ¡°EVI.¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Get my playlist going ¡ª hifi beats to jog to.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± The tempo of the music helped to ground my pace even further. As I slowly, but surely, reached a pace that Aunty Ran, Captain Li, and practically everyone else I knew that either did PT or any sort of fitness collectively referred to as ¡ª cruise mode. I found my body falling into its own rhythms of movement, interrupted only by the occasional alert from the EVI and the faltering of my opponents. [Attention: Lap Two Complete; two-thousand meters.] Qiv dropped out at just around the two-thousand meter mark. Our eyes locked, and for the first time, the armor¡¯s ¡®expression¡¯ more or less matched my own. As those dazed and exhausted reptilian pupils unknowingly made contact with a set of nonplussed human eyes beneath the lenses. Time slowed to a crawl at the moment I passed the gorn-like lizard, his expressive gaze going through so many emotions packed into a single look of what I could only describe as tentative disbelief. Auris took the ¡®lead¡¯ by this point, a smug laugh erupting from his maw as he celebrated the defeat of his mortal enemy¡­ only to look back to find another following closely behind. At exactly the same spot. And exactly the same pace. With little to no hint at either slowing down or speeding up. This seemed to manage to stir something within him, as I could practically see his fur standing on edge, and his muzzle curling to a look of shock. He snapped his head back almost immediately, as I managed to just about catch his pupils dilating. The reaction seemed to please Thalmin if his cackle was any indication, but it was clear that the wolf didn¡¯t have much left in the race either, as he began panting up a storm. This prediction proved to be true as the second lap drew to a close, and the third song on my playlist hit its climax. [Attention: Lap Three Complete; three-thousand meters.] The lupinor had slowed down considerably by this point, having sacrificed second place for third. But, surprisingly, he still remained in the race. His eyes beckoned something of a friendly competitive rivalry as he pushed through what was clearly his limits in an attempt to stay in the race for as long as possible. That spirit of tenacity burned brightly within the warrior wolf. Which was more than I could say for Auris who seemed to burn through what little reserves he had by this point. As his legs began to wobble. His tail began to swish hard. And his breaths became increasingly more erratic, air practically bellowing out his nose like the enraged bull he was. HUFF HUFF HUFF There wasn¡¯t much left in him, and I was barely on my fifth song. The man slowed down as we reached halfway through the third lap, going on the fourth. And owing to his exhaustion, or perhaps anxious anticipation, he quickly shot his head back, probably in hopes of seeing an empty track, or at best, one inhabited solely by Thalmin. Those hopes, as seen through his expressive eyes, were dashed the moment he saw me; still in the same track, still in the same pace, still exactly ten meters behind him as I had been since the start of the race. My fifth song ended right about then.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Local Time: 1000 Auris That armor should have slowed her down. The distances involved should have kept her at bay. Something should have yielded by now. Instead, she remained steadfast. Her speed was unnaturally consistent. Her pacing was impossibly steady. And her gait¡­ was insultingly relaxed. My chest burned as I struggled to draw breath, all the while the newrealmer¡¯s helmet betrayed nary a hint of a breath. This fact, when coupled with the unnatural abyss that was her manaless enclosure, beckoned the likeness of a monster by any other name. A monster that simply did not tire in its pursuit. She was the embodiment of the eternal hunter. A myth told to children by their mothers in times before Nexian enlightenment. But I would not give in to the unholiness that was the creatures of the dark, especially those of insidious intent. So I struggled on, persevering¡­ with only my faith in the guidance of the eternal truths to keep my mind centered. My body be damned, the spirit and the will of his eternal majesty will see me through to the end. I would only look forward from now on, refusing to acknowledge the monster that trailed behind me. I would outlast it. I had to.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Local Time: 1000 Emma ¡°Evil was what they wrote on my hospital forms, while the nurses were too busy amputating my horns.¡± I hummed along with the seventh song on my playlist, just as a beep clued me into the next milestone of the marathon. [Attention: Lap Four Complete; four-thousand meters.] I found myself simply zoning out in my own lane now, going at my own pace, vibing, and thriving. Time seemed to be a distant thought as I just went about my own business, occasionally noting Thalmin¡¯s crawl behind me, and Auris¡¯ increasingly frantic breaths in front of me. The man was clearly trying his best not to turn around. But it was clear his curiosities just kept getting the better of him, as he kept turning his head back every few steps; his expressions becoming more frantic with each successive check. This eventually came to a head just as we reached the halfway marker however, as ragged breaths and worn-out huffs gave way to a slump of a slowdown. A slowdown which he clearly attempted to recover from¡­ but never really did; with his pace slowing further and further until long strides became nothing more than weak steps. At which point, Chiska eventually apparated right next to him, garnering an absolute huff of frustration from the man. ¡°Are you ready to withdraw, Lord Ping?¡± The man shook his head furiously at the question, as he clenched his muscles taut, his eyes drawn to my leisurely jog. He took a step forward¡­ only to wobble in the next, and outright fumble in the followup. The bull fell flat into a heap of beef. Or at least, he would have, if Chiska didn¡¯t manifest a whole bunch of soft cushions in anticipation of his fall. THUMPF! He fell down into a pile of soft down-feather filled pillows as a result; generating a mess of feathers that blanketed the whole area. ¡°I will take that as a yes, Lord Ping.¡± The professor sighed, offering him a helping hand with one hand, whilst offering him a drink in the other. [Competitor No. 02 has been eliminated] I craned my head to meet Ping¡¯s gaze following his formal withdrawal from the marathon. At which point, I was met not with a look of contempt or scorn but outright anxiousness in the bull¡¯s eyes. A look of genuine disbelief. A look of complete befuddlement. A look of someone who¡¯d not just been smoked, but trounced through as little effort as an afternoon jog. Something that my body and its morphology was literally evolved to do, in order to get the better of beasts like Ping. It was just extra icing on the cake that the current song had ended with the lyrics: ¡°And that¡¯s what it takes! Walking ten miles while your enemy runs one!¡± Thalmin withdrew almost immediately after Ping, making it clear that he was more or less waiting to beat the bull, as he¡¯d since reached his limits long before this point. This left just me as the sole runner on this massive one-hundred lane track. But whilst all eyes were seemingly waiting on me to stop, I merely continued. I saw no reason to stop now that I was in full swing, and while I could feel tiredness and exhaustion finally creeping up to me, it wasn¡¯t like I was out of breath or sweating up a storm. So I continued. As a hundred meters became, two, then three, before giving way to four, five, and eventually an entire full lap. [Attention: Lap Five Complete; five-thousand meters.] A look of collective disbelief was shared amongst the entirety of the crowd. Both Ilunor and Rostarion continued to watch, the latter¡¯s eyes practically locked onto my movements, whilst the former enjoyed consuming an entire tray¡¯s worth of snacks; stuffing his face full without the hamster even looking. ¡°Vunerian intuition strikes again.¡± He muttered out following a gulp of tea, shooting the hamster a smarmy cocksure grin that the prince chose to ignore. But the public¡¯s reactions weren¡¯t limited to the pair of would-be commentators, as errant whispers and gasps evolved into outright conversations and fervent speculations. ¡°She¡­ she just bested Lord Ping.¡± ¡°No, Lord Havenbrock did!¡± Another voice argued, one belonging to a certain Cynthis who was very much getting uncomfortably close to the huffing prince. ¡°With all due respect, Lady Cynthis¡ª¡± Thalmin managed out under an open-mouthed pant. ¡°¡ªbut our fellow here is still quite accurate in his statements. Cadet Emma Booker has not only bested Lord Ping¡ª¡± The Lupinor paused, taking several deep breaths as he struggled to recover. ¡°¡ªshe¡¯s still absolutely trouncing him.¡± He managed out with an open-mouthed grin. ¡°Still, being the operative word here, as the sting of defeat grows with every step she takes, and every second she remains in the field.¡± ¡°Modesty is truly quite becoming of a Havenbrockian prince.¡± Lady Cynthis offered in the most flattering way possible, her eyes blinking excessively, leading to those fake lashes to flutter to and fro. ¡°Hm, that¡¯s to be expected, because that¡¯s all he can afford after all.¡± ¡°What do you mean by that?¡± ¡°Modesty is often a virtue of the destitute, and our dear prince here is from a family of destitute¡ª¡± ¡°You take that back Lord¡ª¡± ¡°Enough!¡± Another voice emerged, this one, clearly belonging to that of Ilunor. ¡°It has become clear that our earthrealmer peer here has demonstrated the ill fate that awaits those that challenge both the pride and prestige of our peer group.¡± The Vunerian announced cockily, garnering the ire of quite a few stares. ¡°Any who wish to argue this fact are more than free to state their case.¡± He offered, granting the crowd an open floor. Which few seemed to take, to little to no real constructive discourse other than your typical snide remarks of ¡®primitive dispositions¡¯ and ¡®mud-hut hunter savage mentalities¡¯. This all changed when Auris Ping rose up to the plate, or rather, as he tried his darned best to stumble forwards towards the front of the crowd in lieu of a normal gait. ¡°This¡­ was clearly¡­ the work¡­ of¡­ bad faith.¡± He managed out through huffy breaths. Yet despite the tiredness that colored his voice, I could feel the palpable rage behind each and every word. ¡°The newrealmer is cheating!¡± He just about snarled out, his breaths forcing themselves through his nostrils as if trying to emulate the Vunerian¡¯s soot-breath. ¡°This petulant peasant¡¯s abnormal run is not due to some inherent superiority, physical or otherwise, but as a simple result of some advanced form of trickery!¡± He spouted out, in perhaps the first cohesive sentence he¡¯d managed since regrouping with the rest of the year group. Several ¡°Hear! Hears!¡± soon spread out amongst Ping¡¯s most valiant supporters, which soon started to spread amongst the group. This wouldn¡¯t last long however. ¡°Are you putting forth a claim of athletic misconduct, Lord Ping?¡± Chiska finally entered the conversation, bringing it all to a crumbling halt. ¡°I¡­ I am merely offering another argument to the newrealmer¡¯s anomalous¡­ dare I say it, almost elven-like capabilities, Professor Chiska.¡± Auris ¡®clarified¡¯, but sadly, I couldn¡¯t really see Chiska¡¯s reactions from here. Her words said it all though. ¡°So¡­ is that a yes, or a no, Lord Ping? Do you wish to challenge the integrity of Cadet Emma Booker¡¯s current trial, thereby putting forth an official call for immediate disqualification from within the ancient Rite of Challenges?¡± The bull paused, not so much out of fear, as it was an almost instinctive reaction to being cornered by two apex predators in the span of a mere few minutes. ¡°I¡­ I am merely¡ª¡± ¡°Is it a yes, or a no, Lord Ping? This¡­ really shouldn¡¯t be a difficult question for someone so sure, now should it?¡± She pressed on, raising her voice to one of sincere intensity. Silence was Ping¡¯s only answer. Silence, along with tired and strained breaths. ¡°If you do wish to make a claim of Cadet Emma Booker¡¯s resultant victory being a result of her utilizing underhanded tactics or foul play, then the sooner I receive an answer, the sooner I can make preparations.¡± ¡°Preparations? What for, professor?¡± Rostario blurted out innocently. ¡°Preparations for a rematch, Prince Rostarion.¡± Chiska answered giddily, with barely-contained excitement. And despite my mana-less vision, I could still practically see the soul departing from Auris¡¯ wide eyes and breathless muzzle as a result. At which point, Chiska soon returned her full and undivided attention towards the bull. ¡°For you see Lord Ping, should the claims of foul play hold water, a rematch should naturally arise on fairer terms. This is done in order to restore the accusor¡¯s honor, to prove once and for all their dominance over the activity in question, and to reinforce the acusee¡¯s folly.¡± Chiska clarified with finality, through a cheek-to-cheek cheshire-cat grin. ¡°To restore balance, as all things should naturally be.¡± Ping¡¯s self-assured look of outrage had completely dried up, replaced entirely with a dour look of worry. Silence dominated the air as the man struggled to get a response out. At which point, I finally rounded the corner, managing to run straight past the crowd on an intercept course to make my stance known. ¡°I¡¯d welcome a rematch at any time, Lord Ping!¡± I shouted out with a snarky chuckle, slowing down my pace to more or less jog in-place. ¡°I¡¯ll even give you a bit of a head start this time around if you need it!¡± I added with a fangy grin, refusing to comment further, as I sped off at my regular pace and leaving him in the dust once more. My rear-view camera recorded several instances of the man¡¯s eyes twitching as a result, and a glare accompanied by huffy breaths. Following which, in lieu of giving Chiska a definitive answer, he simply stomped off; taking his peers and fervent supporters with him. ¡°Such commoner behavior!¡± ¡°I cannot fathom the depravity!¡± ¡°Insolence of the highest order!¡± ¡°A truly reprehensible show of attitude!¡± ¡°We will remain by your side, always, Lord Ping!¡± The voices and nametags came, all of which belonged to the man¡¯s peer group, as well as the tortle-like-turtle and his entourage. ¡°Let her have her premature celebrations.¡± He announced amongst his gathered crowd. ¡°What she does to me now, I will do unto her ten-fold.¡± The man spoke threateningly, with ominous undertones. ¡°Mark my words.¡± Soon enough, the man and his group broke away from the range of my long range acoustic sensors. At which point, attention quickly shifted to the student body, and the hundreds of concurrent conversations all happening at once. I quickly zoned out following that. Which proved to be a mistake. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker.¡± A voice suddenly shook me out of my reverie and the gluttonous number of picture-in-picture tabs, windows, and a whole host of other media bars. The surprise was enough for me to stumble a bit, but not enough to do more damage than that. ¡°There is nothing left to prove, you have won this first challenge.¡± ¡°Oh, I wasn¡¯t really hoping to prove anything, professor. I just¡­ didn¡¯t know where to stop, really.¡± I managed out in between breaths, sounding just barely winded, and causing some concern to manifest on the professor¡¯s face. ¡°And when were you planning to stop, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡± ¡°I guess when I started feeling, like, really tired I guess?¡± The professor cocked her head at that. ¡°And how long do you expect that to take?¡± ¡°An hour? Maybe two or thereabouts?¡± I offered politely, which caused the professor¡¯s eyes to narrow slightly. ¡°Can you truly sustain such a pace without the aid of magic?¡± ¡°I was trained to do so, professor.¡± I answered candidly. ¡°I would like to see a demonstration of that then.¡± The professor offered with a wide, fangy grin. ¡°However, I am afraid we will need to schedule that for another time. Time is of the essence, after all, and I would rather we move forward.¡± ¡°As you wish, professor.¡± I acknowledged, slowing down incrementally until I finally found myself back at the starting line, facing a crowd who greeted me not with cheers or chants, but with wide-eyed glares and the occasional gasp. Ilunor¡¯s tea party seemed to have become a social gathering by that point, which garnered more than enough whispers at the behest of the talkative duo. ¡°She¡¯s a beast.¡± ¡°Beast or not, she bested Lord Ping. Quite a tragedy for our dear and devout peer.¡± ¡°All the more reason why I believe him to be an inappropriate candidate for the Class Sovereign. Lord Ratom has demonstrated far more restraint when handling this newrealmer.¡± ¡°You say restraint, I see weakness and acquiescence.¡± ¡°Well, I see a bunch of slackers sitting about in physical education!¡± Chiska chimed in, clearly listening in to the crowd, all the while gesticulating wildly for the arrival of several gargoyles carrying unknown objects hidden beneath brown leather tarps. The very same mystery artifices we saw being transported from Sorecar¡¯s workshop just last night. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker!¡± She began, as I found the ground beneath my feet raising the both of us up and above the crowd. ¡°I regret the haste and expediency by which I must hasten decorum, but your valiant demonstration of physical fitness leaves me no choice! Ahem! As head of the physical education department and as the presiding adjudicator of this physical education class and so on and so forth¡­ I wish to officially crown you victor of the endurance trials in the magically unenhanced portion of today¡¯s activities!¡± She beamed brightly, gesturing towards what appeared to be a late 19th, early 20th century baseball scoreboard at the very end of the stadium. One that now had my name proudly placed next to the list of ¡®victors¡¯ in the first category of today¡¯s four trials. ¡°Congratulations! But I am afraid we have no time to waste on celebrations. So without further ado, let us move on to the strength portion of today¡¯s magically unenhanced activities.¡± Without much prompting, our platform descended, as the professor now shifted her attention over to the three gargoyles and their tarp-covered mystery objects. ¡°Behold!¡± The tarps were removed in rapid succession, revealing two sets of surprisingly familiar sports gear ¡ª javelins, and a series of weight lifting benches. It was the third object however that proved to be the wild card here. Heck, its bizarreness made me question how, or even if it can be used in a sport. Because next to the benches and javelins, was what I could only describe as¡ª ¡°Ah! Is the sword-in-the-stone challenge a common sight in your realm, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± Chiska preemptively asked, pointing at the setup. ¡°No¡­ not unless your name¡¯s Arthur¡­¡± Chapter 90: A Literal Arthurian Challenge I stood there, staring blankly at a literal Arthurian challenge. A sword wedged in a stone, with little indication of this being either a set piece, or a sport; save for the context of this whole challenge of course. Though honestly, the fact that it was a clear-cut departure from your typical sport was definitely getting me hyped up. ¡°Well, Cadet Booker?¡± Chiska reiterated, pointing at the sword. ¡°Are you, or are you not, familiar with the sword-in-the-stone challenge?¡± I took a moment to collect my thoughts, before letting out an inward chuckle at how ridiculous the whole setup was to see in person. ¡°Well¡­ yes and no, professor.¡± I managed out with a huffy chuckle. ¡°I guess you could say these sorts of things are¡­ the stuff of legends.¡± Chiska only managed a few curious blinks in response to that non-answer. Which prompted me to quickly elaborate. ¡°What I mean to say is, it¡¯s been a while since the last time someone tried pulling a stunt like this.¡± I chuckled out nervously. ¡°In any case, I¡¯m not going to waste any more of your time on the specifics. I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s pretty self explanatory.¡± I offered with a shrug. ¡°You grab the sword by the hilt, and you lift, newrealmer.¡± Ping butted in, crossing his arms, and huffing all the while. Though at this point, I wasn¡¯t sure if that huffing was from exhaustion, frustration, anger, or a mix of all three. ¡°I genuinely do not see how confusion can take hold with something as straightforward as this. It¡¯s as much a test of strength, as it is about a test of character. All of this should be quite self-explanatory, no?¡± A brief staredown soon commenced, as the man made it his goal to more or less place himself across from me, parting the seas of students as we both held our ground in the midst of this self-imposed challenge. Chiska, thankfully, was quick to break things up. ¡°In any case! Whilst I do appreciate the spirit of competition¡ª¡± Chiska made a note to glare at Ping, before turning towards me with a look that just screamed stand down. ¡°¡ªlet us keep argumentative banter to a minimum, and instead focus on exerting those frustrations on the tasks ahead instead!¡± The entire scene was defused before it could even erupt into an all-out verbal smackdown, which whilst a relief for Chiska, only served to rile up the bull even more. ¡°Right then!¡± Chiska quickly turned to the three stations, starting first with the pile of javelins. ¡°Let¡¯s go through a few basic rules, shall we?¡± What transpired next was more or less a brief breakdown of rules and expectations for each station. The javelin throw boiled down to distance. ¡°The furthest throw wins!¡± The weight lifting bench, boiled down to, well¡­ weight. ¡°Heaviest weight capable of being lifted wins!¡± And the sword-in-the-stone challenge was¡­ well¡­ quite literally as the whole setup would suggest. ¡°Use any means necessary, and with every ounce of strength in your body, to lift the sword up and out of its earthly confines ¡ª the sword will act as the determining factor of your worthiness.¡± ¡°Since the strength challenge consists of three individual challenges, the Rite of Challenges states that the challenger must clear at least two out of the three individual challenges to qualify for a total victory of the strength segment of today''s activities!" No questions were posed for either of these exercises either. And so, the trials began. Starting first, with a sport practically designed for the ancient ancestor in me. The javelin throw. With a few bursts of mana radiation, we soon found the empty grass field in the middle of the stadium changing once more, as white-lines and demarcations were scored into the earth, and a single barrier was erected to indicate the boundary between the field and the run-up to the throw. Whilst not necessarily trained in throwing javelins of all things, I at least had some tangential experience with the art of throwing things in my PT regimen; grenades being the most obvious element of that training. And despite how different throwing a grenade was from a javelin, I trusted that the latent intuition in me could carry me the rest of the way. That, and a brief little briefing offered by the EVI on the principles of a javelin throw. More students decided to join this particular activity, perhaps being lulled into a false sense of confidence by how deceptively simple it looked. They couldn¡¯t have been more wrong however. ¡°Alright then! Line up! Let¡¯s take this one thrower at a time! I don¡¯t plan on sending any of you to the healing wing today, not if I can help it! I don''t want a repeat of the 987th year group!¡± Chiska announced brightly. This prompted the first student, Airit the bat, of all people, to step up to the plate with her winged-arm gripping a javelin tightly. With a few words of encouragement from the professor, and a firm pat on the back, she stepped forward onto the ¡®starting line¡¯. The bat took a confident breath, taking those few tentative steps forward, rearing back with javelin in hand, before lobbing it forwards. ¡­ It soared high with a weak WHOoosh¡­ but arced even higher. ¡­ TWANG ¡­ The javelin landed almost vertically, piercing the dirt after only a few seconds in the air. ¡­ It barely cleared the barrier. A part of me wondered if this would become a pattern. And so when another student stepped up to the plate, Cynthis this time around, I kept my gaze poised at the demarcated field in front of me. In fairness, she managed to lob the thing more impressively than Airit did. But despite her efforts, she wasn¡¯t able to break the pattern. The javelin fell¡­ just barely in front of the first. This incremental improvement waxed and waned. With student¡ª ¡°Next!¡± ¡ªafter student¡ª ¡°Next!¡± ¡ªafter student¡ª ¡°Next!¡± ¡ªafter student, arriving at a rather unsatisfying scattering of results. Most of the javelins ended up scattering just in front of the barrier. However, it would once again be Qiv, Thalmin, and Ping that managed to break away from averages. The former managed to double the average throwing distance. Thalmin managed triple that. This left just Ping, who stood just in front of me as the both of us had been relegated to the last two in the challenge. It was clear he wanted as close to the last laugh as possible, and it was even clearer that despite his tired huffs, the rage within him pushed him to perform beyond his limits. It was also clear to me that he wasn¡¯t above passive-aggressive tactics, as when I went to reach for one of the javelins in the rack, the man quickly followed ¡ª grabbing the very same javelin I¡¯d reached for. I tugged first. To which he reciprocated with a firm tug of his own. This tug of war continued, up until the final student in front of us was cleared, and Chiska once more came in to break up the obvious conflict. ¡°Lord Ping.¡± She announced sternly. ¡°It is your turn.¡± The feline gestured towards the field, which prompted the man to quickly grab another javelin of his own. But not before making sure to make as much of a mess as possible in the process, as the entire rack of javelins fell to the floor following that little tantrum. The man stood firm at the starting line, breathing deeply, and using his booted hoof to kick up dirt and grass behind him. He had some form to him, I¡¯ll give him that. However, as he started picking up speed, it was clear that form was overtaken by a lack of coordination for one reason or another. The spear left his arm with a wobbly follow-through, the bull nearly tumbling to a stop at the barrier, as the whole class was transfixed by the course of the ancient missile. The speed was impressive, the arcing wasn¡¯t as ridiculous as the rest of the other students, and most of all¡­ it actually had some flight to it. Sadly, however, Ping¡¯s sheer raw force could not overcome the years of hardened combat that had led up to the lupinor¡¯s prior throw. As the javelin found itself landing just between Qiv and Thalmin¡¯s javelins. The lupinor had once again bested our peer group¡¯s arch nemesis. This left the bull in a difficult and somewhat awkward spot, as he left the runway unsure of what was to come of my throw. Sadly for him, I felt the instinctual call to throw growing louder and louder by the second as I finally stepped up to the plate. Tens of thousands of years of throwing things had led up to this point. And so, with that heritage behind me, and quite a few years of professional throwing experience (in the grenade department) backing me up as well, I pushed forward. One step followed another, as I began taking long, purposeful strides, rearing back my throwing arm, until I hit that final line. At which point, I let go, putting everything into that arm as possible, and following through for good measure. My eyes, and the rest of the class¡¯ eyes, were fixated on the flight of my javelin. WHOOooosh! Everyone went quiet, breaths were held, and all eyes fixated on the slim object as it flew high, straight, and level, passing by the class¡¯ clustered averages, then Qiv¡¯s, then Ping¡¯s, and finally, landing just ahead of Thalmin¡¯s javelin with a solid THUD! Silence dominated the few seconds following that result. Faces of disbelief and disdain started to take hold throughout the crowd. Then suddenly, a series of loud, resonant claps broke through the apathetic mass. A quick glance revealed the source of this abrupt break in the otherwise callous mood ¡ª Thalmin. As it was at his urging that the lonesome claps were followed by Thacea, Ilunor, and even Gumigo and Etholin as Chiska promptly stepped up towards me and landed a firm grip on my armored shoulder. ¡°You throw like an elf, Cadet Booker.¡± She spoke softly with a cock of her head. But before I could inquire further, she quickly turned towards the crowd with a bright smile. ¡°The javelin trials goes to Cadet Emma Booker! Now! Onto the weights!¡± While Thalmin and the rest of the gang seemed to be riding off of the high of these two successive victories, a strong twinge of concern started descending upon me as we approached what I felt would be a real challenge. Weight lifting. Or more accurately, bench-pressing. Auris¡­ looked built for this sort of thing. This sentiment seemed to be shared amidst most of the class as well, as few dared to take the plunge towards the benches provided. So despite going through the effort of bringing nearly a hundred benches, only a quarter of them were occupied. ¡°All set?¡± Chiska inquired, prompting more than a few nervous nods to emerge from the crowd. ¡°Alright then! Remember how this goes! With each round that passes, your weights will be successively increased! Raise your weights as high as your arms will allow, and don¡¯t be afraid to let go preemptively if you need to! I will be sure to prevent any injuries, you can trust me on that!¡± She winked, as several mana radiations were detected, clearly indicating our weights had been activated. I took a deep breath, right before the whole thing started off. ¡°Go!¡± The first set of weights were trivial enough, but the sound of the daring volunteers made it clear that not everyone was sharing that same sentiment. Several students more or less left prematurely. This pattern continued as we moved onto the next successive set of weights, something that the professor noted was reaching the typical intermediate range for most of her classes. Only a handful of students dared to remain at this point however, as I counted the usual suspects ¡ª Qiv, Gumigo, Thalmin, and Ping, amidst a few others who surprisingly clung on for dear life. That latter statement, however, proved to be more true than I would¡¯ve wanted to imagine. As I heard a strained scream, followed by a metallic rattling, and what should have been a blood-curdling yelp¡­ We all craned our heads over to see one of gumigo¡¯s peers staring up at a set of floating weights with a thousand-yard stare. His whole body locked in place, as Chiska approached, and flung the levitating weights over to the side. ¡°Told ya you could count on me.¡± She reinforced with a smile, before ushering the small crocodile off and towards the bleachers. That terrifying episode more or less scared off the scant few brave souls that remained, cutting the competition down to what I was tempted to call the top percentile. Unbothered by the near-accident, we pushed on. Round after round saw weights increasing, and arms showing signs of wavering through quivering. The next to withdraw was Gumigo, at which point my arms started to feel like jelly. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Next up was Qiv, who left with a fair few claps from the crowd; the small lull in action giving me not nearly enough time to rest my sore and weary arms. This left just Thalmin, Auris, and myself, to duke it out. And it was not looking good for me, as I could just about feel myself hitting my proven ceiling. ¡°Tired already, newrealmer? Are you ready to acquiesce?¡± He cockily jabbed. I thought about it. I actually sat there thinking about it long and hard. ¡°Not. A. Chance.¡± I managed out between strained breaths, and against my better judgment, I kept pressing on, matching the next batch of weights. At which point, I could feel I¡¯d made a mistake. But it was a mistake that the EVI seemed to take notice of. [Temporary override of FROM-1 Settings. Returning to fully compensated mode.] I quickly found my arms lifting the entirety of the weights, temporarily matching the bull¡¯s, at least for now. [Returning to FROM-1 Settings.] ¡°What the heck was that about, EVI?¡± ¡°Potential injury to operator noted. You outlined that I should intervene if I detect potential harm being incurred.¡± ¡°Ugh. Fine! You have a point there. I¡¯ll be more careful next time. If you see potential injury, stop me again. But I¡¯ll try to be a bit more cautious moving forward.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± I took a deep breath, and watched in horror as Ping lifted yet another set of weights. It was clear that the man had gone an entire weight class above me during my back and forth with the EVI. It was around that point, after some more painful contemplation, that I simply got up, knowing I needed to stop, especially with the prospects of injury looming overhead. I couldn¡¯t afford that, not when there were the magical trials ahead, and a chance at still overcoming the bull at the final tie-breaker for the magic-less weight challenge. ¡°Heh.¡± The bull managed out under a tired breath. One that eventually gave way to an all-out self-gratifying laugh. ¡°And so the posturing has reached its inevitable demise. But let me tell you this, newrealmer! I have yet to even tip-toe into the shallows of my abilities!¡± He postured, before going right back at it, gesturing for Chiska to pour on the weights. Thalmin withdrew right around the next round. This all culminated in a lengthy, pride-filled ¡®victory parade¡¯ as the bull seemed to attempt to match my marathon antics tit-for-tat; coming close to fulfilling his promise of getting his revenge ten-fold. ¡°Lord Ping is doing it! He¡¯s really doing it!¡± ¡°I say, I say, my fellows, the avatar of righteousness has returned in spades to put this newrealmer in her place!¡± These whispers soon became outright cheers, as golf-claps evolved into cheers of praise with a few fervent whistles to boot. The tortle-like-turtle seemed to lead the charge, along with Ladona who beckoned the crowd on by jumping to the front of the bleachers. Two pom-poms manifested in her palms, as sparkles erupted from her antenna, eliciting ¡®oos¡¯ and ¡®ahhs¡¯ from the crowd. By the end of all of these antics, I could see that look of self-gratification more or less plastered across the bull¡¯s muzzle, as he pushed further and further until finally¡­ Chiska decided to intervene. ¡°Lord Ping, are you sure this is truly¡ª¡± ¡°Ah! Professor! Have I not accomplished what it was I had set forth to do?¡± He spoke following a wobbly-armed push. ¡°Yes you have, Lord Ping. I do suggest we move forward from this¡ª¡± ¡°Ah, by your suggestion, I presume?¡± He reiterated, loudly at that, making sure that everyone was overhearing the conversation. ¡°Yes, Lord Ping. I am afraid we haven¡¯t the allotted time to keep pushing forward. In addition, I would advise that you not push yourself any further so as to¡ª¡± ¡°Oh do not fret over my welfare, professor. I can do this all day if I wish! But since you asked, I shall oblige.¡± He got up from the benches following that, making an effort to allow the weights to fall upon the bench soon after, as it skidded off and hit the floor beneath with a loud CLANG! He stood in front of the crowd now, trying his best to extend both arms by his side, hiding a twinge of pain from behind his wide grin. ¡°Lord Ping, I would advise that you refrain from any actions which may lead to damage to Academy equipment.¡± The professor spoke under a hushed breath. ¡°Nevertheless, your performance has been admirable! So! May I introduce to the class, the winner of the weight challenge! Lord Auris Ping!¡± The crowds went wild by this point, as even Gumigo joined in on the cheers. Ladona even hopped forward from the bleachers, fluttering her wings a bit to gain some air, before landing daintily on Auris¡¯ awaiting arms. The latter seemingly struggled to hold her steady in his arms following that sudden act. I turned to Ilunor following this, as the Vunerian seemed to huff out frustratingly. ¡°What is it, earthrealmer?¡± ¡°Is¡­ is this typical for¡ª¡± ¡°It is, as I have stated many times over, Emma Booker ¡ª theater! What you are witnessing is the theater of life!¡± A brief pause punctuated the scene, as I stared warily at Ping and his sheer capacity for brute strength. I started to dread the upcoming sword pull, as Chiska quickly ushered the whole class towards the Arthurian set up in question. ¡°The strength challenges currently stand at a tie! With Cadet Emma Booker holding a victory over the javelin throws, and Lord Auris Ping holding a victory over weights! The sword-in-the-stone shall prove as the tie-breaker for the strength challenges!¡± Chiska announced brightly, though despite her giddiness, I could just about feel a wave of anxiety slowly washing over me. The sword pull was¡­ almost entirely a strength-based thing. But there had to be a technique to it, I was sure of it. Heck, the age-old wisdom of lifting with your legs and not your back came to mind almost immediately. I¡¯d have to squeeze every ounce of energy I could for this, which meant I was very firmly at the back of the line, resting up as best I could. Though strangely enough, there seemed to be no shortage of people lining up to try this particular ¡®sport¡¯, as even Ilunor and Rostario moved to the front of the queue, each of them seemingly locked in a bitter rivalry that saw this particular activity as the climax of their quarrel of the day. This culminated in what appeared to be something that felt very much like a disqualification, as the both of them rushed towards the sword, tugging and pulling it from one side to another, all the while bickering and yammering away. ¡°This is my destiny!¡± ¡°No! It is mine!¡± As expected, Chiska descended on them not a few moments after they started, disqualifying them soon after. Following this, it was more or less an uninterrupted line of students that went one after another, each trying their best but failing to do more than just budging the sword from its enclosure. This all changed when Qiv arrived on scene however, as the man took a deep breath, reaching down towards the hilt of the sword, and began pulling just like the rest of the students had. Though because of his strength, more and more of the blade did start showing. However, despite his progress, it was clear he was falling into the same trap as every other student so far. As his back remained more or less hunched over the rock, the man refusing to bend down or assume any other posture, instead focusing his entire efforts into his arms and back. It was clear his sheer strength was managing something however, as the sword began to budge upwards, light started to emanate from its hidden blade, and magical winds started to pick up soon after. Though as quickly as the light show started, so too did it end, as he eventually lost his grip, and with it, his will to keep on going. This pattern continued, flip-flopping between minor success stories like Qiv¡¯s, and outright failures like Ilunor and Rostario¡¯s. Eventually however, it was Ping¡¯s turn. The man, masking a heavy breath and holding himself tall, pushed forward toward the stone to the fanfare of a hundred golf-claps. He reached for the hilt, but hesitated, choosing instead to rile up the crowd even further. No words were exchanged during this, as Ladona soon took over the cheerleading aspect of this operation, whilst Auris now focused his entire attention on the sword in question. The bull, like every other student before him, gripped the hilt of the blade with both of his hands; mimicking the legendary pose seen in tapestry and painting alike. With a heavy breath, he pulled. The sword actually budged, though not by a significant margin. This prompted another tug, as the fight well and truly began right about here. Inch by hard-fought inch, the iridescent blade began emerging from its stony prison, as magical winds began picking up all around the bull. However, where most efforts stalled at the appearance of a light breeze, Auris pushed further into stormy winds, as the whistling of the air added to the intensity of the scene; almost masking the grunts and frustrated cries of the bull. The sword shone brighter than ever before, its shimmering beams of light bouncing off of the crowd and the empty bleachers alike. So cinematic was the experience that I felt both fascination and dread manifesting in equal measures; my victory more or less hanging on by a thread. Seconds of progress turned into an entire minute of yells and grunts however, as stormy winds and resplendent lights remained, all to the picture of a sword still stuck halfway in the stone. It was clear that the bull was at an impasse, prompting Chiska¡¯s arrival to the scene. Not a second after her arrival, did the sword finally start to slip from his grip. As inch upon inch was lost to the tune of a series of ¡°NO NO NO!¡±, and clenched eyes. Eventually, the sweat-drenched hilt slipped from the bull¡¯s grip, as it slid back into the rock with an unsatisfying PLOOMPF! ¡°You performed admirably, Lord Ping.¡± Chiska noted, only to be received with the ire of a raging bull. ¡°I would have gotten it out!¡± He managed out under a frustrated huff. ¡°It¡­ it was the poor craftsmanship of the hilt! The hilt was poor and null! The sweat of my hands and the hands of every student that came before me had caused a significant reduction in my ability to grip! I was set up to fail!¡± He declared loudly, prompting Chiska to walk up to the blade, laying down what looked to be a handkerchief on the hilt. After letting it ¡®soak¡¯ for a bit, she lifted it up, revealing not even a drop of sweat. ¡°Contrary to your claims, Lord Ping, the hilt is enchanted to standard battle-specifications. Which also means quality of life measures such as standard enchants to ensure the optimal conditions for use ¡ª which includes grip.¡± She shrugged. ¡°In any case, you have performed admirably, Lord Ping. So please, I urge you to return to the stands.¡± It looked as if Ping was about ready to throw down some hands with Chiska. However, instead of acting on that rage, he merely stormed off, stomping his booted hooves as he returned and then walked through the sea of whispering crowds. This left just me, and Thalmin. The latter of which stepped up to the plate first, and much to my surprise¡­ he immediately took a departure from the norm. As the lupinor actually attempted to lift using his legs. It seemed to me as if the age-old wisdom was indeed present within the lupinor. His martial upbringing and more down-to-earth attitudes probably meant he actually had some hands-on experience with such things, as opposed to the noble predispositions of most of the year group. This technique proved to work significantly better than almost all other attempts, barring Ping¡¯s. As Thalmin¡¯s attempt brought the sword to just about Auris¡¯ trial, only to let go shortly after. A quick exchange between him and the professor soon followed, as Chiska even shook his hand in appreciation of his valiant efforts. Finally, I found myself as the last contestant, as I stepped up to the plate and took in several deep breaths. I found myself crouching similar to Thalmin, but instead of reaching just for the hilt of the blade, I instead placed both of my arms underneath the hand guards; pulling an almost fork-lift like maneuver. It was then that I began lifting, using every ounce of my energy to dislodge the sword from what felt like a vacuum seal that just didn¡¯t let up. I could see the iridescent lights emanating from the blade now, and the stormy winds that began picking up dust, dirt, and detritus that surrounded me. Taking it low and slow, I could feel the sword slowly dislodging, in a manner that was more controlled and more similar to Thalmin¡¯s measured approach. Whilst difficult, it didn¡¯t seem entirely impossible, so I kept at it. I pulled and pulled, struggling and shifting my weight, reaching that tentative halfway point with great effort. Yet at this point, I felt like I was at yet another impasse. Simply maintaining this position was putting a strain on me. I couldn¡¯t tell how far I was at this point, but taking a glance at my panoramic live-feeds, I could see the winds reaching a stormy haze that began pushing even students back, with Etholin hanging onto the unmoving pillar that was Uven Kroven for dear life. Yet despite the progress, and despite the blinding light that prompted the EVI to tint my lenses¡­ there was just too much suction that kept the sword in place. And so, in a final act of desperation, I decided to give it my all, pushing my feet against the rock as I attempted to rip it off with the combined force of my entire body. This resulted in me losing both my grip as well as my footing as I fell back a few feet, causing the lightshow and storm to abruptly stop. A quick glance at the rock revealed that the sword had now returned to its original state, and a sense of dread washed over me as a result. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker, are you feeling alright?¡± I heard Chiska ask, as she reached a hand towards me, urging me to get up. ¡°Yes, professor.¡± I managed out. Though I can¡¯t say the same for the challenge. I thought to myself. The looks on the majority of the crowd¡¯s faces betrayed only astonishment, but of course, without the admiration that came with Qiv and Auris¡¯ attempts. I got up slowly, preparing to hear an announcement of my bitter defeat, or a tie or even a draw that would otherwise end my foolhardy challenge. ¡°And that concludes the sword-in-the-stone challenge!¡± She began, turning towards the crowd, prompting me to flinch inwardly in anticipation. ¡°I hereby officially declare Cadet Emma Booker, as the victor of the sword-in-the-stone challenge!.¡± She declared with a wide grin on her face, allowing all of that pent-up stress to immediately crumble away. ¡°Following this, with a two-thirds victory in the strength portion of today¡¯s non-magical challenges, I likewise officially declare Cadet Booker as victor for the entirety of the non-magical challenges!¡± The professor gestured to the scoreboard, one that quickly had my name scrawled into it using the fleets of gargoyles she had at her disposal. ¡°But¡­ how¡ª¡± ¡°Your sword pull managed to surpass Lord Ping¡¯s!¡± She interjected, turning to face me. ¡°The sword-in-the-stone challenge was never an all-or-nothing challenge! But rather, a challenge to gauge one¡¯s strength utilizing the sword as a point of reference! Though I do admit, there are some who manage to pull the sword out of the rock¡­ but that¡¯s a story for another time! In any case, victory is yours, Cadet Booker!¡± I felt my heart flutter in the heat of the moment, as a thought quickly dawned on me that almost made me chuckle. Whilst this was a strength based contest¡­ I imagine I could attribute a lot of this success to the remaining energy reserves I had. Endurance, in a weird way, had managed to see me through to the end; even if it wasn¡¯t in the most obvious way possible. Though that endurance was going to be tested further, if the breakneck pace of PE was of any indication. ¡°Rejuvenation potions! Some vitae for all!¡± Chiska announced brightly, as gargoyle after gargoyle arrived, balancing little silver platters with wine glasses filled to the brim with an iridescent fluid. One that the EVI logged as concentrated mana. ¡°We haven¡¯t the time for a break, so please, take your rejuvenation potions and line up for the start of the magical activities!¡± Wine glasses quickly found themselves in the hands of all students, including myself. But whilst the entirety of the student body had the privilege of downing the sparkly solution, I was stuck just staring at the fluid that to most was a source of life, but to me was just liquid death. Without much prompting, the EVI began feeding me the best alternative to this that it had at its disposal ¡ª some good old fashioned sports-grade hydration fluids. Throughout this, conversations started emerging from within the crowd. As a curious development spawned within the student body. ¡°This next segment should prove¡­ detrimental to our dear savage.¡± ¡°Here, here! Brash is the heart of the untempered beast, so we must act, collectively, to snuff out this petulant upstart.¡± ¡°Calm, I urge calm my fellows! Let us not pay the newrealmer the unearned attention she so desperately craves!¡± ¡°Indeed¡­ calm¡­ now, if we are quite finished, I wish to propose a point of opportunity. Does anyone care to take on a gentlemanly wager?¡± Ilunor managed to break through the murmurs once again, his voice carrying a certain weight that seemed to bring the whole group to a grinding halt. ¡°I know you have found yourself in the midst of savages, Lord Rularia, but would you really stake your dignity on¡ª¡± ¡°This is merely an opportunity, my dear fellow! An opportunity to back words with actions! And can you say you would truly see yourself lowering your body to participating in acts of physicality?¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°Indeed! So in lieu of that, I say, for those of us unwilling to partake in such trivialities ¡ª let us put action where our words lie. Or in this case, the weight of gold to back up our words.¡± Seconds passed, as Ilunor was quick to point at Etholin. ¡°You there! Merchant Lord! I declare you the purse-master of this gentlemanly endeavor!¡± The little ferret didn¡¯t even have time to react as Ilunor grabbed his hat, before shoving it in his hands. Not a second later, gold coins started filling it. ¡°Ten.¡± Thalmin started. ¡°For Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°One-hundred, for Lord Ping.¡± Gumigo continued, completely eclipsing the lupinor¡¯s pool. ¡°Five-hundred.¡± The round mammal from before quickly added. ¡°Seven-hundred.¡± ¡°Seven-fifty.¡± ¡°Seven-seventy-five.¡± ¡°Eight-hundred.¡± ¡°One-thousand-four-hundred for Lord Ping.¡± The tortle-like-turtle emerged out of nowhere, pouring a whole load of coins into the poor ferret¡¯s hat. Which at this point seemed to resemble an oversized sack. The betting pool continued, as the students who wished to participate began filing towards the track and field lanes once more. At which point, I cocked my head. ¡°Another marathon?¡± I openly questioned. ¡°I thought there¡¯d be something different¡ª¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 500% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS I turned around to see Chiska coordinating the arrival of a massive tarp-covered artifice, one that more or less came to dominate the middle of the field, requiring a whole platoon¡¯s worth of gargoyles to slowly lower into place. Almost immediately following that, the field in front of me started to shift and contort, with bright, blank, unrendered-looking obstacles popping up this way and that throughout the once-empty track. ¡°Okay, there it is.¡± I snickered out warily, as I turned inwards once again. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Reconfigure sports mode. Go turbo.¡± Chapter 91: YEET! ¡°Error: Unrecognized Command. Please specify¡ª¡± ¡°Disable FROM-1 presets, EVI.¡± I interjected, my eyes narrowing towards the track in front of me, and the unrendered obstacles that stood in the way between here¡­ and well¡­ here. ¡°Acknowledged. Alert! FROM-1 [FREE RANGE OF MOTION PRESET 1] disabled!¡± ¡°Reset default configs.¡± ¡°Resetting default configuration.¡± [Alert! HP-MM Mode Active. Alert! No profile loaded, no parameters set.] [Specify performance parameters.] ¡°Preset values? Smart Auto-Adjustment? Or manual value settings?¡± The EVI chimed in flawlessly, mirroring the system prep for the first marathon. The considerations of the past competition were now completely out the window. There was no longer a need to pit muscle against muscle this time around. And fairness would have to be tested in a completely different playing field. It was the whimsical power of magic against the indomitable power of technology now. A test of the divergent fundamentals that forged two vastly different civilizations. ¡°The training wheels are coming off.¡± I began, as the collapsible menu expanded into a whole slew of specialized activity-profiles visualized as a series of nodes floating in three-dimensional space, each of which branched out into a spider-web of options representing even more niche specializations. This was complemented by a series of virtual sliders mimicking a vehicle¡¯s control panel, one that allowed an operator to finely-tune the exoskeleton to within a razor¡¯s edge of optimized performance, giving a breadth and depth of customization that would make even the most seasoned HPUV enthusiast blush. ¡°We¡¯re going with preset value D-5e.¡± I continued, as the EVI highlighted that particular node and its sub-category in three-dimensional space. ¡°Acknowledged, engaging D-5e.¡± Not a second later, I felt a massive weight being lifted off my shoulders¡­ And my arms. And my legs. And most definitely my back as well. As the exoskeleton frame that encased the fleshy human within finally started to pull its own weight, beyond just compensating for the weight of the armor. Everything felt fluid again, for lack of a better word. With every movement, every action, from fine to gross motor, overcompensated and back to high-spec. It felt like I was piloting the armor again, rather than just exerting my own strength with it. Not to mention against it, like the night of the warehouse explosion. I couldn¡¯t help but to ¡®limber up¡¯, as both training and force-of-habit began taking over. This was in spite of the exoskeleton-systems checklist being marked [Optional] rather than [Critical] this time around. From gauging fine-motor control through finger-to-palm tests, to static-run tests and what most would see as ¡®jumping-jacks¡¯ to gauge both gross-motor and multi-axial accelero-gyrometer systems respectively, I ran through all of them with eagerness and excitement. Though more than out of habit, it was a necessity to just get my brain re-attuned to pilot-mode. After two solid hours of moving with the suit at my own strength, getting back in the groove was both necessary and satisfying. I could¡¯ve just not done it. But these protocols and ¡®re-attunement safety procedures¡¯ (RSPs) existed for a reason. Just relying on EVI to fill in my stumbles while I got back in the groove was possible. But using it as a crutch was something I wasn¡¯t about to do if I could help it.
If you¡¯re going to be a power-armored specialist, a pilot, or an operator of any sort of vehicle or machine, you better make sure it''s you who¡¯s at the helm, Emma. If not, then why bother having a pilot at all? Why not just send a fleet of S-AMCPs?
I would not, and could not, just let the words of the most renowned power-armored specialist of the century go unheeded.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Spectator Stands. Local Time: 1100 Thacea There were¡­ many, many questions to be had with regards to Emma¡¯s physical capabilities. Many of which had far-reaching implications that beckoned a lingering question that I wished to pose, but had yet to, out of a mix of respect and a lack of instigating forces¡­ Exactly what sort of being was lurking beneath the plates of steel? The answer couldn¡¯t have been too monstrous. That much was a given, especially considering the constraints of the suit. The morphology in question also could not have been too far-off the standard-fare of most other beings. But whilst the answer could be estimated through logical deduction, that didn¡¯t stop curiosity from taking hold, and my imagination from going into avenues that¡ª ¡°ANY FINAL ADDITIONS TO THIS GENTLEMANLY WAGER?!¡± The Vunerian announced with a deafening shrill, through a voice amplification spell that was as disruptive as it was infuriating. I had tried my best to ignore his antics up to this point. ¡°NO?! THEN THE POOL STANDS AT A GRAND TOTAL OF TEN-THOUSAND TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTEEN SOVEREIGNS!¡± However, it was becoming clear that such a feat would be impossible. I took note of the Vunerian¡¯s antics in full now, eyeing him as he took hold of the impromptu purse from Etholin, and began returning to his little picnic table. With a few well-placed steps, I quickly found myself sitting across from the Vunerian, who seemed to take my presence with an otherwise nonplussed expression. ¡°Is there anything I can help you with, princess?¡± A quick deployment of a privacy screen followed, as the crowd was quickly consumed by the participant¡¯s warmups, and the professor¡¯s preparations. ¡°Pray tell, Lord Rularia, when exactly did you choose the path of an opportunist bookkeeper?¡± I inquired in no uncertain terms, prompting the Vunerian to shift his expression to one that was decidedly more measured. ¡°You deride both my station and my honor with such sentiments, princess.¡± ¡°Well you seem to consistently resist the agreed trajectory of this peer group.¡± I snapped back. ¡°You know, as well as I, that this isn¡¯t about the money. This sum is meaningless in the grand scheme of things. This¡ª¡± He shook the bag, taking great effort to do so. ¡°¡ªis about making a statement. Social games can only do so well when you only have the air you breathe to back up your words. It is only when people feel the consequences of their words, preferably in the cold and heavy article of minted gold, will they finally understand it intrinsically. In short, words are cheap, princess. And I wish to remind those that may stand against us, that there is a tangible price to pay for petty verbal attacks on our group.¡± ¡°Amidst a desire to reinforce our status as a competitive force, I presume?¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± I took a breath, palming my beak. ¡°This is a dangerous game you¡¯re playing, Lord Rularia. We are already in the spotlight as it is.¡± ¡°We will always be in the spotlight as a result of our circumstances. It¡¯s best that we choose to embrace it, so that we may at least control the course of its narrative.¡± ¡°By choosing a path that will surely instigate more animosity?¡± ¡°Such a fate is inevitable.¡± The Vunerian shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s best that we are able to direct what form that animosity takes, and what benefits we can gain from it, than allow another party to dictate it for us. I understand your¡­ reluctance, princess. Seeing as you have been playing a game of survival whereby embracing passivity is a cornerstone of your strategies, if not an end goal. But the war we find ourselves in necessitates spontaneity, and active decision making.¡± ¡°You think too much like a Nexian, Lord Rularia.¡± I countered bluntly, never breaking from his gaze. ¡°And while your tactics may hold water when you fight on your lonesome, you forget the composition of the vast majority of this peer group¡¯s constituents. So while you may have the Nexian advantage for your case, the same cannot be said for the peer group at large.¡± The Vunerian finally went silent at that, coinciding with Professor Chiska¡¯s loud clap that brought all eyes back towards the field.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor¡¯s Field. Local Time: 1100 Emma ¡°And will this be all the students participating in today¡¯s final exercise?¡± Chiska inquired loudly, bringing all other accessory conversations to a close with a wide and fangy grin. Silence was, once again, her answer. An answer which clearly brought her a great deal of frustration, as her eyes skimmed across the half-filled track, consisting of just over half of the year group. ¡°Alright then.¡± She breathed in deeply, somehow finding it in her to maintain that excitable demeanor. ¡°This next challenge will not be as simple as the last.¡± The professor began, as she lowered her tone to one teetering between threatening and playful. ¡°Both the difficulty and complexity of these next trials have been scaled up in fairness and in respect to your magical abilities. You will not find discrete challenges this time around. Or at least, not in the regimented manner in which the unaugmented trials were conducted. For what awaits you is a gauntlet, a series of trials connected by an overarching challenge, tied together in a cohesive narrative representative of the theater of life.¡± I flinched for a moment upon hearing that line, as I turned back towards the stands, and saw Ilunor shooting me an unfettered grin and a cheeky wink. ¡°Princes and princesses, Lords and Ladies¡­ Cadet¡­¡± The professor paused awkwardly at that, before moving on swiftly after. ¡°... it is my honor to present to you, the Encabulator¡¯s Gauntlet!¡± The professor gestured at the former marathon track, or more specifically, at the various ¡®unrendered¡¯ sections that began stretching, elongating, and growing, causing the EVI to have another mild existential panic. It was around this time that the tarp covering the mysterious device sitting in the middle of the field was finally removed. Though upon closer inspection, it was clear this wasn¡¯t by intention. As the artifice underneath it had simply outgrown it, the tarp falling to the wayside as whatever was underneath grew into a literal castle. Or, at least, a miniature one; like someone had scaled down a castle into a large three-story home. Mana radiation spikes assaulted my senses, until finally, the whole stadium eventually settled into its final form. ¡°Behold!¡± Chiska announced, leaping up towards the castle, perching upon its three-story high towers. ¡°The work of the mythic encabulator! Courtesy of Professor Pliska, our dear armorer, with a little bit of help from yours truly! I don¡¯t often get to pull this out of storage, but it was clear to me that your year group warranted it.¡± She ¡®winked¡¯, taking a few seconds to emphasize that point. In front of us¡­ was a gauntlet alright. The marathon track was still there, albeit elongated and punctuated by what seemed to be different ¡®stations¡¯. Each of these were vastly different, some even resembling segments and tracts of levels pulled straight out of a videogame. The whole scene looked like it¡¯d been pulled out of some kit-bashed VR world, and it was only after we truly soaked it all in, did Chiska finally explain what all of this was. ¡°In front of you, is a combined endurance and strength challenge! The distances between each station will be a challenge of endurance in and of itself! Whilst the stations themselves are designed with strength-based challenges in mind! You will encounter specific challenges which you must overcome in order to pass through each station. What they are, and what they entail, I will not spoil. What I will say however is that they are to be accomplished in whichever way you see fit, under the overarching rules of physical education, which I will remind you of now.¡± The professor paused, before projecting yet another blackboard in front of us. One that, similar to Articord¡¯s class, had floating chalk that dictated everything she spoke. ¡°Rule number one ¡ª the use of magic is allowed only through the augmentation of one¡¯s own body as a physical medium. In other words, the use of magic to directly modify one¡¯s environment is strictly prohibited. This is a fundamental principle of physical education. This is the only class that primarily explores the implementations of magic through a physical corporeal medium¡­ that being your bodies. Enhance your strength, endurance, agility, and more, but keep traditional magic out of physical education, please.¡± The professor practically pleaded, as it was clear that this was probably one of those rules that always fell on deaf ears. ¡°Rule number two ¡ª the use of one¡¯s manafields to anticipate obstacles or attacks, magical or otherwise, is not only allowed but encouraged. This is obvious, but due to past events, it must be stated for the record.¡± Chiska practically muttered that last line out, before moving on just as quickly. ¡°Rule number three ¡ª the use of natural latent gifts is strictly prohibited. This includes such things as flight, flame-breath, and unconventional swimming, amidst other self-evident gifts that none of you seem to possess so I shall move on. But, oh! Just because I can¡¯t help myself, we will be having a special class for natural latent gifts, so watch out for that!¡± She winked, making eye contact with Thacea, Ilunor, Ladona, Airit, and the few other winged and latent-gifted members of the class. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Thoughts of the flight pack module being useful in flying exercises slammed into me like a sack of bricks, intruding into my otherwise focused mind, just before the professor rounded out her announcements. ¡°And rule number four ¡ª no astral projections, please!¡± With a deep breath, she leaped down from the castle and back towards us. ¡°There will be a total of five stations. For students not part of any competition, should you fail one station, you may choose to yield and move on to the next station. For students who are part of a competition¡ª¡± The professor eyed both me and Auris. ¡°¡ªyou must complete all five stations. But do not worry, for there are many ways in which you can complete a station. Some of which may be more obvious than others.¡± She snickered and winked. ¡°However, should both of you tie on all five stations, the deciding factor will come down to time. The one who takes the least amount of time, shall be the uncontested winner in such a case.¡± The professor gestured towards the track, noting how it¡¯d changed drastically. It seemed as if it was no longer a track, but rather, a well-defined path that had a definitive end ¡ª the castle. The EVI guestimated that the whole track was now at least a solid ten or so kilometers. Though, worryingly, it provided a little caveat in the form of a warning I¡¯d yet to see before. [This estimate is accurate as per current sensor data. Actual distance may vary depending on developing anomalies.] With a few more words of encouragement, and an assurance that any mishaps will be intercepted before grievous injury, we found ourselves poised at the starting line. About a click ahead of us was what seemed to be a town gate, a quick zoom-in by the EVI showed what looked to be a single bear-folk guard in full gear waiting at each of our respective gates. No other indication of what this challenge was could be made out from a distance. As a result, I took a moment to compose myself, craning my head over to my competitor only once, and incidentally locking eyes with him through my opaque lenses. A look of cocksure confidence and a renewed sense of vitality was all I saw. It was as if the man had forgotten all about the unaugmented challenges, hedging all of his bets on magic. ¡°I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t nervous, EVI.¡± I muttered out loud. ¡°This system is designed to assist with any and all tasks. I will provide pertinent advice as the situation develops, and suggest motor-overrides if necessary.¡± ¡°Noted, thanks.¡± I responded. ¡°Are we all ready, students?!¡± Chiska came in, interrupting that little pep talk. ¡°Yes, professor!¡± They all spoke in unison, led by Qiv, and then interrupted by Ladona. ¡°Ready as we¡¯ll ever be, to set the record straight, and to put the insolent in their place!¡± She ¡®beamed¡¯ out a cheerleader¡¯s smile, to the tune and cadence of a cheer captain¡¯s musically inclined voice. The professor ignored this, and made sure to curtail any and all claps, snickers, and uproarious cheers from the competitors. Though this didn¡¯t mean the crowd in the stands weren¡¯t riled by her words, especially with Ilunor¡¯s whole betting gambit making them even more invested than before. Ignoring this, and focusing on the task at hand, I shifted my posture; poised to just book it. ¡°On your marks!¡± Chiska shouted, raising her hand high. ¡°Get set!¡± Her fingers contorted, poised for a snap. ¡°Go!¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A loud thunderous snap echoed throughout the enlarged stadium. And just like the first time, all hell broke loose. Though this time, it came first in the form of the sheer glut of mana radiation warnings that the EVI thankfully kept nestled into its little folder. The real chaos however soon followed, as despite the more things changed, the more they stayed exactly the same. As student after student began blazing forwards, absolutely smoking my already-speedy start that would¡¯ve put even the most competitive of olympic athletes to shame by leagues and bounds. I found myself left in the literal dust this time around. At least, for a few seconds that is. As about half of the fifty or so participants quite literally tumbled forwards, and about half of those found themselves on shaky feet and wobbling on unbalanced gaits. They all looked and acted in a way that was eerily familiar. They all looked like they were newbies in power armor, having gone for high-performance maneuverability mode, without any prior training ¡ª the infamous hazing ritual. They looked like me when I first put on the suit. And just like my first day of training¡­ they all fell flat on their faces moments after hitting speeds that their bodies either weren¡¯t used to or built for. THUD! THUMP! THOOMPF! A good quarter of the class found themselves lying face-first atop either a pile of down-feather pillows, or a solid memory-foam like mattress; all courtesy of Chiska. The organic body, no matter how magical, just wasn¡¯t designed to handle speeds like that without training. And it was clear that the first few seconds of the competition more or less weeded out those that had some prior physical training to push above and beyond the limits of normal biomechanics, and those that simply knew how to enhance their bodies to that speed. Unsurprisingly, none of the recently-fallen got up to continue the race. This left the rest of us to close in on the distance between the starting line and the town gate. About half the distance was covered in just under a minute, as I turned to see the ¡®top percentile¡¯ ¡ª Qiv, Thalmin, Ping, and Gumigo ¡ª in the lead alongside me. Each of them seemed to have their own unique methods in how they handled what biomechanical scientists called ¡ª the normofunctional limits. Though each of the techniques on display were fundamentally different from how I handled it. Which made sense, considering the slight size differential between my own body and the power armor, which whilst slight was still significant enough that I adopted what power armor specialist referred to as the ¡®glide¡¯ motion, that would¡¯ve just not worked outside of power armor at typical human speeds. Thalmin took long, springy strides with his digitigrade legs. Qiv did the opposite, but still kept up reasonably well. I couldn¡¯t even begin to describe how Gumigo was doing it¡­ only that it reminded me of those surprisingly fast alligator waddles. Ping? He looked almost as if he was galloping, and it was clear that he was giving it his all, as we found ourselves once more locking eyes, prompting the both of us to leave our competition in the dust. Meter by meter, we left the ¡®top percentile¡¯ behind. Booted hooves and metallic feet competed in a league of their own as the sounds resembling a horse¡¯s gallop and a construction site dominated the front of the race. CLOP-CLOP-CLOP KA-THUNK KA-THUNK KA-THUNK You could practically hear the pneumatics, if it wasn¡¯t drowned out by the sheer heft that came with the territory of heavy metal coming into contact with solid ground, over and over and over again at blistering speeds. This neck-to-neck sprint culminated in our arrival at our respective gates, as we were quickly approached by the bear-like guard, who addressed us almost exactly at the same time. And in the same voice too. ¡°Ah! Adventurer! The town gate is stuck in place! Please! If you wish to continue, you must lift the gates open by your own strength!¡± I hesitated, turning to the professor in order to address the¡­ copy-pasted NPC guard. But before I could even manage to address it, Ping was already going to town with the gate, lifting it using his bare hands, gripping its lower lattices, managing to pull it up about waist-height and making certain to show off as he did so. It was clear he was barely even exerting himself this time around, even if what he was lifting was clearly a solid wrought-iron gate that looked like it weighed a literal metric ton¡­ or several. So, without addressing the NPC, I quickly jumped at the gate, crouched down, and began lifting what the EVI was noting to be a solid chunk of metal that clocked in at about the same weight as a classic motorcycle. Yet the more and more I lifted it, the more the gate seemed to increase in weight, going from motorcycle, to compact car, and ending up weighing about as much as a mid-sized sedan by the point I¡¯d managed to lift it up and above my head. An audible ¡ª CA-CLANK! ¡ª confirmed that it¡¯d latched into place. This, in turn, elicited more than a fair few astonished looks from the runners who¡¯d just arrived on scene, as whispers abounded every which way. ¡°Did she just¡ª¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Without a disturbance or an ebb or a flow in the manafield¡ª¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°... monster.¡± ¡°Amazing work, adventurer! You may now proceed¡ª¡± I was already booking it by the time the NPC had registered what¡¯d happened, as I managed to catch up to the bull who¡¯d opened up the gate just seconds earlier. Though seconds was what this whole competition seemed to be boiling down to now, considering the speeds and strengths which we were working with. The next station was another few clicks ahead of us, the EVI zooming in to reveal what looked to be a troll positioned on each of our lanes; each of them holding solid-looking clubs. In spite of that, there seemed to be a distinct lack of any obstacles. At least, that seemed to be the case, until we reached about halfway towards the NPCs. ¡°HALT! Or you shall meet your doom in ash and cinder!¡± The troll guards shouted in unison, with my guard shouting just a little bit earlier owing to the small edge I had on Ping¡¯s speed. Whilst I could¡¯ve gone above and beyond, completely smoking him in the process, there were three main reasons why I kept at relative parity for now. One, the practical ¡ª going ultra turbo mode would¡¯ve just revealed my max settings, and the ultimate cap of my capabilities, which may prove to be a concern for future PE classes, and more concerningly, for those observing my abilities with less than benign intentions. Two, the situational ¡ª the repairs I made to the lower portion of the suit were solid¡­ but I didn¡¯t want to tempt fate just yet. Three, the contextual ¡ª it was clear that these little stations were triggered by our presence, and each of them held surprises. It was better to have Ping either trigger them first or alongside me, at least, for the less obvious ones. And it was clear my concerns for point three were justified, as several mana radiation warnings and a few stern slams of the troll¡¯s clubs caused the track to elongate yet again. Except this time, what emerged behind them was a massive chasm of what looked to be lava, but on closer inspection, was just water heated to the same temperatures as a hot spring. Several platforms made of stone emerged from the ¡®lava¡¯, as it became clear just what our challenge was for this round. Or at least, that¡¯s what I thought. As four other shapes emerged seemingly from the dirt itself, shaped from clay, and given life through some unknown means. These four shapes¡­ were molded into a family of bears. With two fully grown adults and two bear cubs. ¡°Please help us! These horrible beasts are preventing us from reaching the castle!¡± All four of them spoke in unison, more or less confirming their status in this whole challenge as just an extra layer of both immersion and directional prompts in this ¡®overarching narrative¡¯. Ping tried his hand at this first, attempting to usher the family forwards, but finding it absolutely grueling with the father bear slowing down his pace to a crawl. ¡°Oh! Nonono! The heat is far too intense for me!¡± ¡°It¡¯s not even real lava, just get across you insolent little worm!¡± He seethed. But instead of a proper response, all he received back was yet the same rehashed line. ¡°Oh! Nonono! The heat is far too intense for me!¡± ¡°AARRHGHHHHH!¡± Ping yelled loudly, practically spitting on the NPC¡¯s face, garnering naught a reaction but a thousand yard blank stare. ¡°You may find it easier to help the family by lifting them above the heat of the lava, Lord Ping!¡± Chiska chimed in from the castle, her voice reaching us through some weird magical PA system. The fact that they were bears made all the more sense now. Their weight turned this station into an endurance strength challenge, combined with some agility as well. However, it was around this point that I figured out something. As Chiska¡¯s earlier comments hit me like a sack of bricks. ¡°Professor?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°The only condition for their safe crossing is to avoid them from either falling or being singed by the ¡®lava¡¯, correct?¡± ¡°That is correct!¡± A devious plan started forming, as I turned inwards once again. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Calculate the weight and dimensions of these four targets, and predict an optimal trajectory across the chasm.¡± ¡°Calculations complete. All four targets are capable of being launched successfully.¡± ¡°Good.¡± I muttered out, as I began by grabbing the mother bear, lifting her up, and holding her in the same way I¡¯d hold an oversized mega-football. Ping, and indeed, the rest of the class stared on in abject confusion, as I took a few steps back¡­ and began running. A few course corrections and speed adjustments were done courtesy of the EVI, as I felt the moment we skidded to a halt, and the exact point in which the bear left my arms. The NPC didn¡¯t even flinch at this, remaining taut and aerodynamic ¡ª as much as a bear could at least ¡ª until she landed on the other side face-first, skidding to a halt on the dirt outside the track. ¡°Thank you, adventurer!¡± I heard a muffled voice responding from beneath an inch of dirt, prompting me to move on to the papa bear. It was around this point that Auris, taking note of my idea, started copying it; lifting up the mother bear without a second thought. The running start this time around consisted of the both of us running at full speed towards the banks of the lava chasm, before lobbing the large bear forward at a decent enough speed that he just barely made it across. ¡°Thank you, adventurer!¡± His larger mass made it just possible, if only just; which meant he landed just on the banks of the lava pit. However, despite making it across, he remained as prone and as stiff as he was in mid-flight. Which caused him to slowly begin slipping into the lava feet first. He didn¡¯t seem to mind this, at least, not until his feet started to become singed. ¡°Oh! Nonono! The heat is far too intense for me!¡± He spoke up again, the heat seemingly ¡®reanimating¡¯ him, and prompting him to crawl fitfully away from the lava. With the parents done, I turned to my last two subjects with what probably looked like sinister intent given the unfeeling visage of the helmet. The young cubs. This left me with two radically different choices. ¡­ I decided not to play football with the cubs. Instead, I took each of them underneath my arms, before making my way towards the stone platforms as I began hopping my way across the lava. ¡°Ow, ow, ow! Too hot! Too hot! Too hot!¡± They both exclaimed, prompting me to quickly change tactics, plonking them instead atop of my shoulders, as they both piggy-backed their way across the lava-lake. Auris, however, decided to lob both of his cubs in the same way we did their ¡®parents¡¯. However, he was able to do this with greater speed when compared to the adults due to their size, and was even able to give them a bit of a spin as well, in the same way you¡¯d spin a football. The man would¡¯ve made a great football player if things had been different. However, as it stood, we were both back in the race, as I plonked down the two bears next to their parents, and as Auris simply ran past his family which were all in varying degrees buried beneath the dirt. ¡°Thank you for saving our family, adventurer!¡± They all collectively spoke just out of earshot, my rear view camera showing them waving back in an uncanny unison. We moved forward at breakneck pace, booted hooves and industrial clunks once more dominating the background noise of the track. It was around this point that I began testing the waters of Ping¡¯s capabilities by incrementally increasing my speed. Rather surprisingly, the man was able to match it with seemingly little effort. This back and forth eventually landed us just short of the third station now, as what appeared to be a sheer-faced wall now awaited us. Little outcroppings, the same ones you¡¯d see at a rock climbing setup, made it clear what this challenge was. However, that wasn¡¯t the most surprising part about this whole setup. A brief analysis of the wall, courtesy of the EVI, revealed an anomalous surge of mana radiating throughout it. I paid no mind, and neither did Ping, as he began climbing it without hesitation. Following the bull in hot pursuit, I reached for one of the outcroppings, putting my weight on it¡ª only to feel the rock crumbling in my hands. I fell backwards, but thankfully, landed on my feet. Trying again, I continued, gripping each and every little greeble, but finding that each and every one of them crumbled on-contact. ¡°Can they just not support my weight or something¡ª?¡± I inquired, prompting the EVI to respond almost immediately. ¡°Preliminary analysis indicates that a significant proportion of the wall¡¯s composition is mana-based, Cadet Booker. Current scans indicate that mana itself may be acting as the binding agent between sparse solid materials. The armor¡¯s inherent properties may be affecting its otherwise rigid composition, hindering its strength.¡± I took a few steps back from the wall, watching as Ping had already climbed to the top, and was now performing some pretty serious feats of parkour along the rest of the long stretch of walls and towers. The rest of the ¡®top percentile¡¯ caught up around this point, as I saw Gumigo and Qiv giving Thalmin a run for his money, the mercenary prince turning towards me with a level of concern which I shook off, gesturing for him to continue on without me. A few seconds of introspective thought later, and I got it. ¡°Chiska said that we could go through these challenges in whatever way we see fit¡­¡± I murmured to myself, as I palmed the wall roughly. A moment of hesitation came over me, but just as quickly dissipated as I decided to go through with my idea. CRUNCH! My fist went straight through the wall with a bit of force, as I relished the feeling of crunching rock and crumbling mortar. ¡°Heh.¡± I cocked my head. ¡°Well what do you know? I guess we¡¯ll be taking a shortcut, EVI.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± Chapter 92: Book it Booker! The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor¡¯s Field. Local Time: 1100 Auris Dread is the taint which masks the otherwise brilliant soul, a self-fulfilling prophecy which only fools fall prey to. Hope is the fruit which nurtures the uncertain mind, a sweet and sumptuous escape, that serves only to weaken the spirit. Confidence is the fuel with which the noble soul thrives, and it is only through confidence that the darkness of dread is vanquished, and the foolishness of hope is tempered. Confidence, leads to faith, and faith in what was righteous, was the strongest faculty a sapient being could ever develop. Confidence, along with faith, are thus the cornerstones of nobility. And it was because of both of these tenets, that I had no doubt as to the results of this magical competition. Magic was, after all, the unassailable instrument of the noble and righteous. Everything that the newrealmer wasn¡¯t, and everything that the newrealmer lacked. The mana-deprived newrealmer was running purely off of the abilities granted by her muscle-bound survivalist society. A society unfit, undeserving, and ultimately, ill-equipped to integrate with the demands of civilization. The armor was an aesthetic diversion, a masterpiece of showmanship, meant to hide the savage beast lurking beneath it. Savage, being the operative word in this instance. Beastly, being the only descriptor capable of explaining away the impressive feats of strengths demonstrated by the newrealmer. As without the ebb and flow of mana, owing to the offensive nature of her armor, only brute strength remained as an explanation for the newrealmer¡¯s strange proclivities for athletics. Which meant that her actions were no better than the defiant posturing of an unruly beast. And as with any beast, there were limits to the power that brute strength could offer. Limits that often began with the utilization of magic. Limits that had already started showing even as early as in the unaugmented strength challenge, and was once again manifesting now at the wall. Limits that had left the beast stranded at the foot of the wall, unable to climb, and thus unable to proceed. I stood atop of the wall for just a moment, at peace, and with a resurgence of confidence that flooded my very soul with a surge of utter delight. I felt, in that moment, like I was on top of the world. I felt euphoria, in every sense of the word. I gazed out towards the sea of shambling bodies, towards the rapidly ascending Thalmin, Qiv, and Gumigo with a light-hearted delight. As even they were a welcome sight that proved a point which I had been making throughout this competition ¡ª that magic overcomes all obstacles in its path. Even if one of the aforementioned three won in my stead, my points would be vindicated. Though I had little incentive to allow that to happen. Not whilst my corporeal being persisted, and my obligations remain unfulfilled. And so, with a grin and a chuckle, I began making my way forwards. My path, and the rest of my peers¡¯ paths, immediately started becoming something of a challenge as the seemingly straightforward ¡®rooftops¡¯ we faced started shifting and contorting. Some of the platforms rose, whilst others fell, whilst others even began changing size, shape, and dimensions with each passing second. The mythic encabulator seemed to be reacting to us, in the same way that the raising of the gates had increased in weight the higher and higher we raised it. I could feel its latent eyes, its constant poking and prodding at the edges of my manafield. I could even feel it peering into my very soul at times. ¡°A worthy challenge, wouldn¡¯t you say, my fellows?!¡± I turned back to the winded group, as I stood tall aloft one of the higher platforms in the rapidly growing sea of obstacles. ¡°A worthy challenge, indeed, Lord Ping!¡± Several voices responded, not from the aforementioned three of course, but from the rapidly growing crowd who seemed to relish in the newrealmer¡¯s assured demise. A crowd that now followed me forward into the thick of things, trailing just behind my only three worthy competitors. My mind was now practically rid of the newrealmer, as my eyes were now poised towards the end of this vertical dungeon. Yet a gnawing feeling had me looking back, if only to placate the fears from my earlier experiences.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor¡¯s Field. Local Time: 1105 Qiv Dark was the newrealmer¡¯s presence in the manafield. And darker were her aims if her intent was to be trusted. She was difficult to miss, yet easy to forget, so as we surged forward I found her presence muted and gone. Yet I knew that the newrealmer was not a typical beast. I knew that despite the odds, a complete non sequitur may yet derail Lord Ping¡¯s preemptive victory lap. So whilst my stakes in this race were nonexistent, as either outcome would lead only to a desirable conclusion in the near to mid term, I still couldn¡¯t help but to ponder on the newrealmer¡¯s capabilities. What exactly lay beneath the armor that allowed her to perform such great feats? Was it her kind¡¯s sheer physicality? Or was there something more? I already had my ¡®answer¡¯, of course. As the trickle-down grapevines of public discourse had already well and truly established the unique, but otherwise unimpressive and pathetic nature of the newrealmer. I had no reason to doubt the words of the upper yearsmen or faculty. I had no reason to conceive of any other rationale but brute physical strength as an explanation to the newrealmer¡¯s proclivities for athletics. Yet I couldn¡¯t help but to notice the disparity in the newrealmer¡¯s recent feats of strength. From her lifting of the gates, to the debacle with the family of bears, the weights she now effortlessly dealt with were all far, far heavier than the ones she withdrew from earlier in the unaugmented segment of the competition. So with that discrepancy, amidst so many more discrepancies, I am left to wonder¡­ Exactly what lies beneath the armor? Or perhaps, more pertinently, did I care to find out? And was it worth the risk of sticking my nose where it clearly was not wanted?
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor¡¯s Field. Local Time: 1120 Auris ¡°Victory was never in doubt, Lord Ping!¡± Came one of the many voices of support as I reached the end of the vertical dungeon. I could feel my heart beating harder, my breath hitching up higher, and my whole body shaking as we crested the final obstacle. But it wasn¡¯t because of exhaustion. It was because of sheer euphoria. Peering over my shoulder for good measure, I saw naught but the tenacious three, with Prince Havenbrock leading the charge. No signs of the newrealmer. And thus, only relief to be had. I looked down below to see a strikingly empty path ahead, which prompted me to take the journey down from the platform with a degree of caution. The newrealmer was woefully behind now. That fact continued to resonate in my mind as my feet finally touched solid ground, and amplified even moreso as I stared back up towards the ¡®competition¡¯, fists by my side in a pose typically reserved only in moments of assured victory. Hoots and hollers were made from high above, as well as from far across the field from the stands. This was the challenge I¡¯d set out to conquer. This was the untempered and unfettered high of victory. ¡°My dear fellows!¡± I proclaimed loudly. ¡°His Eternal Majesty smiles on us, on all of us, today!¡± I made sure to include the rest of the rabble for good measure. The social game wasn¡¯t without a need to inflate your disciples¡¯ egos. My father was always right in that regard. So, with my back now turned towards the wall and the rapidly descending tenacious three, I set my sights forward towards the penultimate challenge. ¡°Onto victory!¡± I shouted, but just as I was imbuing my body with yet another spell, so too did I feel a disturbance in the manastreams. Or more accurately, a series of audible thumps that became increasingly more pronounced with each passing second. Thump. THUMP. THUMP. The noises increased in volume, and with each passing erroneous noise, came inexplicable vibrations from behind the walls. Was the encabulator preparing some other challenge? Was this an unexpected guardian sent by the encabulator to wrestle victory from my grasp? I turned towards the professor, who responded only with a shrug. This prompted me to start running, as I realized this wasn¡¯t a part of the challenges, and thus not a worthy obstacle to take note of. This didn¡¯t stop the noises or vibrations however. The thumps quickly morphed into outright crashes. As I could now feel the ground quite literally shaking, the noises growing louder, and a low rumbling approaching closer and closer by the second. Until suddenly¡­ CRASH! The tell-tale sounds of brick and mortar crumbling suddenly filled the air. A cloud of dust quickly enveloped the field, debris managing to land as far as a few steps ahead of me, my run being brought to a premature halt. I paused, feeling a shiver run down my spine as I took a moment to catch my breath. My whole body tensed, and my fur stood up on end, as I clenched my eyes tight before turning around. Behind me was a cloud of dust, and a group of students coughing up a storm. But in the middle of the crowd, right in the midst of the hole in the wall, were two glowing red eyes that pierced straight through the thick plume like a raging dragon shrouded in a mist of soot of its own making; its sights set on none other but me. It was around that time that I felt my heart drop, and my whole body flinching in a way I hadn¡¯t experienced before. This was followed up by a sudden tensing, an inability to move, and a cold shiver that ran through my veins as I saw that armored form suddenly sprinting forwards at unprecedented speeds. There was naught a hint of a mana surge, nor a breath to be had. There was only that awful, ear-piercing sound, of high pitched whirs and thumping metal. There was only the unnatural, unholy, presence that never ceased. There was only the eternal hunter that gained rapidly behind me. I could barely hold a shout as I turned around. My mind was now occupied with only one thought. RUN!
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor¡¯s Field. Local Time: 1120 Emma If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°WHEW! OH YEAH! WE DID IT!¡± I uttered out with an ecstatic breath, resisting the urge to do a little victory dance as we emerged through the magical brick and mortar with the energy of a raging bull. The walls were still no joke though. But according to the EVI, the strength of the walls were averaged to around that of your typical brick and mortar house. Though one that was held together with nothing but hopes and dreams, or in this case ¡ª mana. The pure mana that¡¯d acted as a magical mortar to the physical brick, had given way like water to my suit¡¯s oil. The suit handled it perfectly. And better yet, it seemed as if we¡¯d caught up to the bull just in the nick of time. The man stared at me with a mortified expression that felt so visceral it honestly shook me a bit. But then I realized¡­
¡°The element of surprise, Emma. Don¡¯t be surprised by your own surprise on the enemy. When you see them confused, just book it!¡±
That¡¯s where the Book it Booker TSEC memes came from, after all. And I wasn¡¯t about to let those legends die in just a single generation. So, without much prompting, I embraced my namesake, and booked it. It felt freeing to not be slowed down by the speedbumps that were the walls. A fact that was reflected in my larger strides and the slight bump in speed. It wasn¡¯t enough that the bull seemed to have a hard time matching, but that still didn¡¯t stop him from huffing and puffing. Though it quickly became clear to me that his huffs weren¡¯t from exhaustion this time around, but from panic; his wide eyed expression maintained for hundreds of meters as we made our way towards the next station. This time, we were met with what looked to be another bear-guard sitting in a little guard house next to a drawbridge. Though given how strewn about his equipment was, it was clear there was something about the narrative that had changed. ¡°Oh adventurer! You came in the nick of time!¡± Each of our bears spoke, more or less at the same time as we arrived at our respective stations simultaneously. ¡°An evil beast has taken over the kingdom¡¯s castle! You must stop him and save our kingdom! However, the hoards of evil now rapidly approach my bridge, and we must first weather the storm by leading them to their doom by having them fall into the infinite chasms below!¡± The bear gestured towards the large chasm the drawbridges crossed ¡ª what appeared to be an infinite void with sheer-faced cliffs on either side. ¡°This is where your help will be needed. I was assaulted and my injuries are far too grievous, so I am afraid I cannot help.¡± He paused, gesturing at his knee, which had a particularly large arrow sticking out of it. ¡°Moreover, the beast has damaged the bridge¡¯s artifices, so you must use your strength to slowly raise the bridge manually!¡± He made his way over towards what looked to be a simple crank connecting a rope to the front of the bridge¡­ despite the obvious injury. Narrative decisions and continuity notwithstanding, it was clear now what we had to do. ¡°Raise the drawbridge as fast as you can before the hoards of evil arrive! Following that, you may safely lower the drawbridges once more to continue on your adventure!¡± I placed my hands on the crank with a certain level of wariness, planting my feet firmly on the ground, even going so far as to dig into it. Auris did much of the same, and with one final mutual glare, we began turning the crank. I was immediately met with resistance I wasn¡¯t prepared for, the crank feeling stiff and unwieldy in my hands, as if the entire mechanism was locked up. I knew, however, that this was simply a power calibration issue. As I turned to the EVI and quickly began changing up the suit¡¯s variable settings. ¡°Temporarily disable current profile, smart auto-adjust for me, EVI.¡± I barked out, as I felt the gummy resistance suddenly loosening up, and the crank in front of me turning from an impossible-to-turn steel rod, into an oversized fishing reel. Each hard-fought rotation coincided with the raising of the bridge in front of us, as inch by inch, the bridge was raised up higher and higher, with the approaching ¡®evil hoards¡¯ pausing as if waiting for us to fully raise the bridge before marching forwards. It was like they were waiting for a quicktime event or for us to fulfill this particular action before continuing. Which made sense. As if they¡¯d kept approaching, they¡¯d have effectively acted as a sort of a ¡®timer¡¯ for this whole station. It was another layer of added difficulty that simply wasn¡¯t applied for our run, which I was thankful for, because this thing took a considerable amount of effort to get rolling. Auris was really giving it his all now, managing to just about match my pace, as it took us about a full minute to raise the bridge up about half way. The whole thing was more mind numbing and torturous than anything, and that pattern would¡¯ve continued, if it wasn¡¯t for the arrival of Auris¡¯ favorite variable. The crowds had arrived just in time to witness our silent efforts, but they remained quiet this time around, as nothing else was heard outside of the rattling of chains and the CLACK CLACK CLACK of the primitive mechanisms. So enrapturing was the fierce but otherwise silent competition, that none took their places at their own respective drawbridges. Instead, everyone simply elected to watch, even Thalmin, as his eyes grew wide at my efforts. Things were progressing smoothly enough. However, the moment Auris noticed the arrival of the crowds, so too did he start to truly rev things up, to the tune of about ten mana radiation warnings, a clear indicator that he was really pushing above and beyond now. ¡°Go on, Lord Ping! Show the newrealmer what a real mage can do!¡± The CLACK CLACK CLACKs of his chains increased in frequency, prompting me to match it tit for tat. ¡°Do not hold back now! Remember your promises!¡± So heightened was his pace now that the rest of the drawbridge¡¯s distance was closed in barely half a minute, as the bear returned, alongside the snarky remarks of the crowd. ¡°I am sure he was holding back!¡± ¡°True, true! No doubt toying with the newrealmer!¡± ¡°Excellent work, adventurers!¡± The bears spoke, breaking through the whispers of the crowd, as the ¡®evil army¡¯ consisting of nondescript clay mannequins started falling into the void as if on cue. ¡°The evil forces have fallen to their doom! The path forward is now clear! Please, proceed!¡± He gestured towards the drawbridge which had now reset, lowering back to its open configuration. ¡°Right, EVI, set presets back to D-5e.¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± Several bursts of mana radiation indicated that Ping was probably supercharging his run, poised to book it as quickly as his spells were complete. So as soon as the suit recalibrated, I quickly sped off, the bull getting a bit of a head start as we both approached the bridge and¡ª ¡°Initiating emergency stop.¡± I skidded to a halt, just as my feet reached the very edge of the bridge. ¡°What the heck, EVI, what gives¡ª¡± ¡°Analysis of material composition complete. Summary: the bridge may be constructed utilizing the same anomalous mana-based adhesion methods as the wall, Cadet Booker. The suit¡¯s weight and movement will compromise its structural integrity.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I responded bluntly, testing the waters by stomping hard on part of the bridge, confirming the EVI¡¯s analysis as a good chunk of it collapsed, falling into the void in the process. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time, calculate launch trajectory and give me a pathmap to follow.¡± ¡°Unable to comply, Cadet Booker. The chasm is too wide.¡± The EVI responded quickly, displaying all the possible arcs and trajectories it calculated, as each arc landed just short of the other side. All, except for one. ¡°That one.¡± I ¡®pointed¡¯ using my eyes, selecting what looked to be yet another failed calculation, with a jump that led straight down into the cliff-face on the other side of the chasm. ¡°EVI, are the cliff-faces also composed of the same material as the wall?¡± ¡°Negative.¡± ¡°So, we¡¯re dealing with just rock then?¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± ¡°Good. Now, just follow my lead¡­¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor¡¯s Field. Local Time: 1130 Auris Had I truly done it? A quick glance back towards the bridge showed the newrealmer once more stuck without a way forward. A narrowing of my eyes showed exactly why this was the case. Her sheer weight simply made it untenable for her to continue. The muscle-bound nature of the beast had brought it to an untimely halt. The consequences of its brutality was now made manifest as it was unable to use the instruments of civilization. A humble bridge acting as the cage to its ambitions. A smile crept up across my face, as I continued forward at a comfortable pace. The newrealmer had backed up away from the bridge at this point, presumably with the intent to drop out of the competition. Relief finally came to wash over my haggard soul. But that relief was short-lived. As not a second after I restarted my run, did the audible KA-THUNK KA-THUNK KA-THUNKs start once again. And as I craned my head backwards, I was met with the metal behemoth surging forward at ridiculous speeds. This all culminated in a leap. One that elicited several ¡®oohs¡¯ and ¡®aahs¡¯ from the crowd. My mind anticipated the loud THUD of her landing on the other side of the chasm. NYOOooooomm¡­ However, my eyes instead were faced with the hilarity of the beast landing just short of the track, falling comically into the endless void below. ¡°....hehehehehahHAHAHAHAAAAAHHH!!!¡± I broke out laughing, barely able to contain myself. I took a good few seconds to allow unfettered joy to reverberate through the crowds to the horrified expressions of the scant few that supported the beast. And after a good few more moments, relishing the situation, I left. A comfortable jog was accompanied by the sounds of the other drawbridges being raised and lowered. I was once more in my element, the castle coming up closer by the second. Until suddenly, I heard it. crunch. Crunch. CRUNCH. I felt a tingling running up and down my spine. My fur threatened to stand up on edge again beneath the academy-issued sports attire. My neck felt stiff, yet my mind urged me to crane back towards the chasm. And so I did. As a single oddity caught my eye. It was a single hand, then two, then a helmeted head; pulling itself up and out of the chasm against the sheer cliff face that bordered it. Its glowing red eyes once more met my own. I froze. Then¡­ I ran.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor¡¯s Field. Local Time: 1130 Emma I pulled myself up with a bit of effort, arriving yet again right on time to witness Ping¡¯s look of abject fear, and a sprint seemingly born out of sheer panic. Satisfaction, cockiness, and a whole host of feelings started to emerge. But I didn¡¯t have time to dwell on that however, as the castle loomed just a few clicks in front of me. So I ran, catching up to Ping in just under a minute, as we once more competed silently, interrupted occasionally by the cheers for his victory from the spectator stands. Before we knew it, we¡¯d arrived at the castle, at which point, we entered straight through a pair of large oak doors, leading straight into a throne room. It¡­ really was a miniature castle, but at least it got us straight to the point. As we were met with a literal creature of shadow hidden beneath a cloak, sitting atop of the solid-gold throne. ¡°WELL WELL WELL, WHATEVER DO WE HAVE HERE?!¡± A strangely familiar voice boomed out from beneath the cloak of shadows. ¡°Do I see TWO challengers now?¡± He continued, as the EVI brought up a nametag that I wasn¡¯t surprised to see. It would¡¯ve been him of all people, to have volunteered to act, wouldn¡¯t it? ¡°Yes, we¡¯re here to free the kingdom, now please tell us the challenge so we can get this over with¡ª¡± ¡°SILENCE! Ye who wishes to free this kingdom must beat me in a challenge!¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I just said¡ª¡± ¡°SILENCE!¡± He reiterated, causing the whole room to rumble. ¡°Now, your challenge¡­ is to beat me¡­ in a competition of pure strength!¡± The ¡®evil king¡¯ stood up, walking towards a table with several chairs around it in the middle of the throne room. ¡°You must beat me¡­ in a feat of simple, yet focused strength.¡± He sat down, placing an arm atop of the table, in a display I didn¡¯t want to recognize. ¡°You must wrestle this kingdom from my hands by force.¡± He announced, as stormy winds coupled with echoey thunder began swirling around the room for dramatic effect. ¡°So, arm wrestling.¡± I managed out dryly. The dramatics died down for a moment after I said that. ¡°That is the commoner term for it, yes.¡± He nodded. This prompted me to turn towards something else in the corner of the room, seemingly forgotten. It was the sword in the stone, relegated now to mere set dressing. ¡°I¡¯d rather we have a rematch of the sword-in-the-stone challenge rather than just some arm wrestling¡ª¡± "That is my trophy for having defeated the hero of this land! It is a signifier of my almightiness! For if I am able to procure the sword, surely the strength of my arm must be superior to its challenge, no?¡± It was at this point that Auris and I locked eyes in disbelief, before turning back towards the ¡®king¡¯ with a sigh. This certainly wasn¡¯t the average sport you¡¯d find in the Olympics¡­ ¡°I accept your challenge.¡± We spoke at the same time, sitting down across from the ¡®king¡¯. ¡°Since you arrived here at the same time, the one who defeats me quickest will be the one true victor. So, how about you start, my dear dashing Lord of righteousness?¡± Ping nodded with a stoic look of confidence, as he gripped the apprentice¡¯s hand tightly, poised to break it. ¡°On the count of three, then!¡± The apprentice spoke, prompting the bull to nod once in reply. ¡°One.¡± Both arms clenched. ¡°Two.¡± Ping breathed in deeply. ¡°Three!¡± The EVI was inundated with a surge of mana radiation signatures, whilst the scene in front of me remained seemingly unchanged, save for the increased intensity and death-glares made by either party. ¡°Withdraw now, and I will grant you clemency¡ª¡± ¡°Shut. Up!¡± Ping roared. Soon enough, I could hear the stone beneath the table crunching, its foundations cracking, as the apprentice struggled to hold his ground, kicking his legs, before finally¡­ THWACK! The apprentice¡¯s hand was pushed aggressively down onto the table, generating a massive gust of wind, clearly done up for dramatic effect. ¡°Ouch.¡± The apprentice managed out, immediately using his good hand to heal what looked to be a pretty nasty bruise in a matter of seconds. ¡°Congratulations, Lord Ping! You have completed this final challenge in forty three seconds!¡± Ping stood up with a confident grin plastered across his face following that, as he made his way out of the castle, towards a crowd of cheering onlookers. I moved to place my arm on the table without uttering a word, as my mechanical surrogate ¡®hand¡¯ clutched the apprentice¡¯s hand tightly. Haptic feedback was useful in these instances, but I¡¯d purposefully dulled it a bit for what was to come. ¡°On the count of three, adventurer!¡± He began, getting back into character, prompting me to turn towards the EVI internally. ¡°EVI, guestimate the force of Ping¡¯s match, and try to match it.¡± ¡°Insufficient data.¡± ¡°One.¡± He breathed in deep. ¡°Just do your best, we¡¯ll auto-adjust as we go along.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Two.¡± I kept myself poised, gripping his hand tight, probably too tight given how he flinched right before¡ª ¡°THREE!¡± He pushed hard, harder than any human could, as the EVI¡¯s force calculators quickly brought us back into equilibrium. However, just as we did so, so too did the apprentice¡¯s surges in mana increase the force applied, prompting the EVI to correct our course, pushing a bit harder this time, resulting in¡ª SLAM! My heart dropped as I could just about feel the sheer force applied to that hand. Thankfully, I did not hear nor feel anything snap or break. It was just the suddenness of it all that got to me. ¡°Ow¡­¡± The man muttered out in a high pitched voice, immediately gesturing for me to get up as he tended to his bruised hand with several surges of mana radiation this time around. ¡°...I hereby declare Cadet¡­ Emma Booker, at five seconds, to be the victor¡­¡± He squealed out, before putting up a sign saying ¡®Please Wait For Your Turn¡¯ for the upcoming contestants. I walked out, unable to really comprehend what I just accomplished, until finally, I was met with Chiska at the front gates of the castle. The look on her face was one of shock, which quickly turned to an excitable smile as she locked eyes with me. ¡°Well, well, well, Cadet Booker. It looks like you just earned yourself a place in the history books.¡± ¡°Wait, really?¡± ¡°Well, my history books that is.¡± She grinned. ¡°For whatever that¡¯s worth.¡± It was around that point that she gestured for Ping to join us, as we both walked out of the castle together, much to the expectant gazes of the crowds. ¡°First years! I am happy to announce the victor of this impromptu challenge!¡± She paused for dramatic effect, those in the stands watching on with even more intensity than the contestants on the track. ¡°May I present to you, the victor, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm!¡± A collective silence followed suit, before being met with a sizable uproar. Ladona was on hand to urge several boos from the track. Meanwhile, Thacea, Ilunor, and Thalmin attempted to break through the overwhelming response with cheers of their own, though subtle. However, just as quickly as the spirit of unsportsmanlike behavior arise, so too did I abide by my own code of conduct, as I reached out a hand to Ping in an unexpected display that prompted both cheers and boos to die down. ¡°Good game.¡± Chapter 93: GG no re The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor¡¯s Field. Local Time: 1145 Auris The world stood still. And all eyes were on me. In front of me, a commoner ¡ª nay, a newrealmer ¡ª daring to impose a display only reserved for equals of pedigree and station. Sheer shock kept me from moving a muscle, whilst outrage and revulsion filled my very being. I had, for a moment, forgotten the context of this gesture. So egregious was it that it acted as the personification of the entire day¡¯s offenses, a symbol of defiance against what should be, a representation of rebellious contempt against what should have happened. The supposed intent of the gesture was not lost on me. However, what others may see as a hand extended in reconciliation, was instead a poisoned dagger, one pointed directly at my soft underbelly ¡ª where both choice and indecision spelled the same conclusion¡­ death. Surely others could see this too. Surely the professor, the symbol of Nexian benevolence and an extension of His Majesty¡¯s will, would swiftly resolve this quagmire by simply removing the offending weapon thus disarming this malicious assault! Surely she would¡­ Surely she had to¡­ But that didn¡¯t happen. Nor did help in any other fashion arrive. Instead, I was left on my lonesome, abandoned by a representative of righteousness, to succumb to the wounds inflicted upon me by the avatar of darkness itself. Its red eyes mocked me, even as we stood as near-physical equals. Its hand, that deceitful gesture, sent both chills and pangs of disgust straight through to my very core. Why couldn¡¯t anyone else see its malicious intent? Could they not see this savage cornering a fellow civilized peer? Why could no one else see that this gesture was simply an extension of its deceitful ways? For just as its masterfully crafted suit was designed to hide savagery beneath it, so too was this gesture extended with the intent to hide this most heinous of assaults beneath a thin visage civility; this mockery of chivalry. I was cornered, with a dagger held to my throat amidst an audience of weak-willed onlookers. Would somebody just do something?! PA-RUM PA-RUM PA-RRRUM PUM PUM That music, the much-anticipated sounds marking the prelude to the end of classes, filled the air with relief beyond all measure. The musical troupe arrived on scene to the knowing wink of my most reliable ally amidst this sea of weak-willed ingrates. The ever-dependable Lady Ladona had managed to even fool me in this instance, as her constructs marched ever forwards, forcing the class¡¯ premature end. I was saved. SCREEEAAAACCHHHHH A massive disturbance in the manafields marked the arrival of the house-sized wyvern, which landed with a deafening THUD, skulking its way towards the constructs with insidious intent. The music suddenly screeched to a halt as a result, as the entire troupe was crushed to the tune of a hundred bone-shattering crunches. Only the conductor was spared, if only momentarily. His fate was to be a spectacle, as he was flung up into the air with a forepaw, before ¡®landing¡¯ within the beast¡¯s teeth with a silent SLICE¡­ splitting in two before dissipating into mana. ¡°SHE KILLED THE BAND!¡± Someone shouted from the crowds, prompting the professor to quickly intervene, but not before the Vunerian could chime in first. ¡°They weren¡¯t the real band, you idiot.¡± He announced confidently. ¡°It was a paltry parlor trick.¡± ¡°Aptly deduced, Lord Rularia.¡± The professor spoke, taking a moment to scratch the wyvern¡¯s chin. ¡°Let me be clear, class. Whilst I do consider myself to be a tolerant professor, I do not take kindly to these brazen oversteps of authority.¡± She took a moment to glare intently at Ladona, her wyvern doing much the same. ¡°So please, act like the adults I believe you to be¡­ or don¡¯t, and be treated as the children whose behaviors you mime and mimic.¡± Ladona took the best route she could at this point, hiding amongst the crowd, and blending into the audience. The professor graciously didn¡¯t pursue further disciplinary actions on that route. What she did resume however, was the very situation the Anurarealmer had attempted to save me from, as the newrealmer stubbornly refused to retract that hand all throughout this brief disruption. Time once more stood at a standstill, as I reached out a hand, before stopping halfway. It was time to enact a plan, to propose an offer that the newrealmer could not refuse. ¡°I refuse to acknowledge that this competition is over. Far from it. I wish to defer the results of this competition, pending a second, final challenge.¡± I began, eliciting a hundred gasps from the crowd. ¡°I wish to call upon my points of gentlemanly deferral, to raise the newrealmer the offer of a higher stakes wager which I will honor, provided the newrealmer bests me in this upcoming House Choosing Ceremony.¡± A smile once more crept across my face as I could feel the newrealmer¡¯s mind racing with a primitive drive to reach for that golden grouse, for the coveted desire of earning more by teasing another fight. ¡°Do you accept, Emma Booker of Earthrealm?¡± My gambit was set, and even Lady Ladona appeared to be looking on with a rejuvenated hope. All eyes shifted to the newrealmer¡¯s response, as a ray of hope finally entered the fray in the form of this assured escalation. ¡°No thank you, but I appreciate the offer!¡± Came the newrealmer¡¯s words, as she responded in that insultingly upbeat, almost dismissive cadence. I felt as if a phantom¡¯s hand had just smacked me right across the face. My limbs ran cold, and my cheeks burned with the intensity of a thousand suns. Frustration, hatred, and a seething rage filled me, as I eyed that hand with the accumulated ire of an entire week¡¯s worth of pent up fury threatening to boil over. And so, with my escape routes blocked off, I would have to fight my way out. My hand reached down, poised to slap the newrealmer¡¯s hand away. I felt the alien fabric of her digits, then, suddenly¡ª ¡°Ah!¡± ¡ªpain.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Competitor¡¯s Field. Local Time: 1150 Emma You didn¡¯t need to be an expert or anything to anticipate a slap coming for your hand. A split second was all I had in order to make a call¡­ not that I needed to think much about it. I was just so done with the bull, at least for today. So, to avoid further public humiliation, and to put this entire day¡¯s shenanigans to rest, I took active measures to ensure everything would end right here, right now. The competition, the wager, the bull¡¯s arrogance (at least for today), ended with a firm grip of his hand. One that I held just long enough, and coerced into a shake, in order to save both of us from further shame. I was doing him a favor. Or at least, I hoped so. His pained expressions gave me an immediate pause. However, I quickly realized at the last second exactly why he¡¯d reacted so viscerally. As a quick pan across my HUD revealed that the EVI had kept my prior orders active; the orders from the arm-wrestling challenge that is. In short, it was set to match, and slightly exceed, any force or strength applied. The bull could¡¯ve simply avoided this by refraining from his antics. Instead, he had to have gone for a slap¡­ and a pretty hard one at that. The man just kept managing to reap what he sowed. A sigh escaped my breath as I pulled back that hand shake, Chiska arriving on scene, as he managed to recover remarkably quickly from that debacle. ¡°Well¡­ I guess it¡¯s the gesture that counts.¡± I managed out with a chuckle, one that would¡¯ve been countered if it wasn¡¯t for Chiska once more addressing both us and the crowds. ¡°Good sportsmanship goes a long way, and I am happy to see this resolved with a good, solid handshake! Isn¡¯t that what this was, Lord Ping?¡± Chiska managed those latter words under her breath, one that when accompanied by the wyvern¡¯s hot breath, elicited a reluctant nod from the man. ¡°Good! Now that this impromptu wager has been resolved, I hereby officially grant you, Cadet Emma Booker, free reign to participate in all magical physical activities! Congratulations on your efforts, and suffice it to say, I will be maintaining a close eye on you for the duration of this year¡¯s PE classes!¡± She beamed brightly, that excitement translating to her energetic jostling of my shoulder, one that I had to purposefully force the suit to follow the motions of. ¡°Now the rest of you!¡± She turned to the class. ¡°You all did a commendable job! And for those of you who decided to participate in all of the activities, I award you, each, fifty points!¡± A series of gasps erupted from the entirety of class, most were frustrated, whilst others were utterly ecstatic. Gumigo, for one, looked on with crossed arms and a satisfied grin, with the rest of his crocodile troupe jumping for joy. They¡¯d all participated, which meant a solid two hundred points had just been acquired for their peer group in the span of a single period. Qiv seemed quite satisfied as well, nodding with his signature smug look plastered across his maw. ¡°And for those of you who participated in more than one activity, I award you five points per activity!¡± A few students began doing the math, which I more or less managed to do in my head right off the bat. The fifty points were surprisingly fair. With a total of four stations for the non-magical competition, and five for the magical, six if you count the distances between each station¡­ this more or less added up. ¡°But don¡¯t think I¡¯ve forgotten about you two!¡± The professor jostled the both of us again. ¡°For your tenacity and efforts, and in sticking to your word by accepting and following through with the challenge you incited, I award you, Lord Ping ¡ª seventy-five points, on top of your fifty points for completing all stations.¡± Auris'' eyes grew wide at that, but that was before Chiska pulled the rug from beneath his feet. ¡°However, for Lady Ladona¡¯s brazen act of disrespect, I deduct fifty points from your group.¡± She stated plain and simply, causing Ladona in the bleachers to sink even deeper into the crowds. This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°And finally, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Yes, professor?¡± ¡°I award you ninety additional points on top of the fifty points for completing all stations.¡± The professor grinned brightly, swishing her tail now as she was clearly eager to get to her next points. ¡°This isn¡¯t for you finishing first, mind you. Nor is it for you winning the competition and reaping the rewards for your wager.¡± She added with a raised finger. ¡°But instead, it¡¯s for a display I rarely see nowadays, and one that I want to see more of amongst the student body!¡± She made sure to hammer that point home into the crowd, as she directed her voice more towards them than myself. This back and forth started to feel more like a public conversation by the second. ¡°Sportsmanship! Chivalry! The spirit of honor for the sake of honor, not face! These are the sorts of things that have slowly withered from the halls of this grand gymnasium. Too long have I seen a shift from challenges made in good faith, to ones of vapid gain and plays of shifting political interests. Too long have I seen sports and physical education shift away from its noble origins, into a mere tool for ungentlemanly gains. The Academy is a time for personal growth, to play in a safe and controlled environment that rarely exists outside of its walls! This isn¡¯t the time to perform cutthroat politics¡­ you have your whole lives to commit to that, after all.¡± That latter statement was made with a certain level of genuine sadness, one that almost brought her spirits down. Almost, being the operative word here. ¡°Henceforth, I wish to see more of this genuine spirit of chivalry and sportsmanship.¡± The professor made the effort of gesturing towards me this time around, making the impetus behind this speech clear¡­ if it wasn¡¯t clear enough. ¡°This is not to say I will be overstepping my bounds to limit your points of personal privilege. However, know that I will reward what I see as chivalrous, honorable, and good-faith actions. And understand that I will punish acts of bad-faith, breach of authority, and anything I deem as a gross misconduct of the established rules.¡± She clarified, before noting the arrival of the real band this time around, as their signature music started to echo across the field. ¡°I wish to see a return to the glory days, a return to better times, and I hope that ¡ª against all odds ¡ª this year group will be the year to turn that hope into a reality. Now! With all of that being said, class is dismissed! Oh, and, if this wasn¡¯t clear already, with physical education usually taking up one period, this is the final period of this week! Have fun! But not too much fun, for you have a shopping trip and a house choosing ceremony to attend this weekend!¡± The crowd¡¯s reaction was mixed this time around, as the professor¡¯s rapid-paced speeches had more or less shoved two Vanavan classes¡¯ worth of emotions into a single announcement. Most seemed satisfied to have been awarded their points, and their egos stroked, albeit in a roundabout way. A good chunk seemed to glare at me, before lumping themselves in with Auris as soon as he left the professor¡¯s grip, with less than desirable words and accusations being tossed my way as soon as they¡¯d left earshot. ¡°Know that whatever happens, we will follow you to the ends of the Nexus itself, Lord Ping.¡± ¡°You were duped out of a victory and into this appalling state of affairs. In fact, this ¡®professor¡¯ is either delusional or has fallen for the newrealmer¡¯s spell. We will not fall into the same traps, Lord Ping.¡± ¡°Strong are the ones who maintain their faith and integrity. And only the strong shall survive the year. You have our support, Lord Ping.¡± ¡°As much as I wish to make a standing ovation, does anyone else find it odd how the newrealmer was able to push beyond her earlier limits¡ª¡± ¡°A trick and nothing more!¡± Yet as much as the loud crowd seemed to take center stage, so too were more groups forming. This time, around Qiv¡¯s orbit, as he weaved his way back towards the stands. ¡°Truly a disappointing display by our fellow, wouldn¡¯t you say, Lord Qiv?¡± ¡°Bested and humiliated by a newrealmer¡­ through an offer of chivalrous de-escalation no less.¡± ¡°Whether or not that was a political play or a move made of noble intent, Ping managed to somehow find the worst way out of that predicament. A simple hand-shake would¡¯ve been preferable to the fate he¡¯d inflicted upon himself.¡± ¡°As much as I find the newrealmer savage to be simple-minded, it¡¯s clear she¡¯s found her place, and has made moves to become a professor¡¯s favorite. I would say it¡¯s remarkable, if it wasn¡¯t for the fact that the class she chose to tie her affinities to was physical education, of all things. It¡¯s clear to me she¡¯s simply playing to her strengths.¡± However, in spite of the two large crowds, a small minority had gathered around the Gumigo-Etholin orbit, clearly roused by the professor¡¯s speech, and to an extent, the mystery surrounding the armor¡¯s capabilities. ¡°Well well well, chaps! Two hundred points!¡± Gumigo began with a cocky rub of his blunted claws against his leather sash. ¡°But points and our successes aside¡­ is there anybody else who wishes to address¡­¡± He paused, his eyes glancing towards me still in the field. ¡°The loud clunker in the stadium?¡± ¡°Yes, yes! The noise and the speed! I¡¯ve noticed it too! There must be something to it¡­ it couldn¡¯t have been mere trickery¡­ there was a clunky, unnatural, almost otherworldly noise emanating from the armor during that run.¡± ¡°Indeed, indeed! Some form of¡­ dare I say it, unnatural phenomenon. It couldn¡¯t have just been her physicality to have been the source of that. No. Otherwise, why the noise?¡± ¡°A distraction, maybe?¡± ¡°For what purpose? To hide her physicality? That¡¯s silly. Why create a distracting noise when there is nothing to gain from it being hidden? There must be something more. Something we aren¡¯t seeing.¡± ¡°Something beneath the armor?¡± ¡°Or perhaps even the armor itself.¡± ¡°I can say, for most of us, we didn¡¯t notice the clunks.¡± ¡°Well you weren¡¯t on the field where it was most obvious.¡± ¡°This is not the place for such talks.¡± Qiv finally entered the fray, arriving at the stands and scattering the group, as another distinct chunk of the year group now took over from where those stray conversations had taken place. ¡°ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS!¡± Ilunor began, having forcibly dragged Etholin back up to the highest benches of the stands, forcing the poor thing to once more hold his oversized hat-turned-sack. ¡°With the competition coming to a close, I hereby wish to distribute the spoils of this gentlemanly wager!¡± He announced triumphantly, with a big fat grin on his face that did nothing but to incur the ire of the crowd. ¡°To Prince Thalmin of Havenbrock, twenty sovereigns!¡± He dug around the sack, handing the prince this ¡®paltry¡¯ sum. ¡°And to the host, to yours truly, with which the remainder of the wagers have been counterbalanced upon¡ª¡± Ilunor paused for dramatic effect, doing nothing but to elicit even more groans of annoyance at his actions. ¡°¡ªI take away ten-thousand one-hundred and ninety-four sovereigns!¡± The deluxe kobold was practically cackling with joy at that point, looking as if he was standing on top of the world, even more ecstatic at the entire affair than I was at winning the damn thing. However, as quickly as that excitement began, so too was it tempered. This time, by an unexpected party. ¡°Ahem.¡± Etholin vocalized, clearing his throat. ¡°As the purse master, it would be unbecoming of me if I did not ask for my own shares of the winnings, Lord Rularia.¡± ¡°I beg your pardon, Lord Esila?!¡± ¡°I politely request my purse master¡¯s fees, in both the traditional cut, and as a lump sum surcharge serving as compensation for the suddenness of the entire affair.¡± The man clarified in no uncertain terms, and for the first time, looking as if he was actually in his element. No amount of indignant rage from the Vunerian could keep the ferret down, as he acquiesced surprisingly quickly. ¡°Two percent, and a lump sum of two-hundred.¡± Ilunor stated firmly, digging around the sack as he did so, whilst a parchment and quill suddenly appeared out of nowhere, writing down what seemed to be a whole contract in a matter of seconds. ¡°Ten percent, and a sum of one-thousand.¡± Etholin shot back, his eyes narrowing with a knowing expression. ¡°Three and two-fifty.¡± Ilunor countered with an indignant hiss, the floating pen crossing a few lines, only to replace them with the new proposals. ¡°Nine and nine-fifty.¡± Etholin rebutted confidently. ¡°Three point five and three-fifty.¡± ¡°Seven and eight-hundred.¡± ¡°ENOUGH!¡± The Vunerian shouted, flames spewing from his open maw. ¡°Four point five percent, and five-hundred.¡± He announced with finality, prompting Etholin to nod affirmatively in response. ¡°Deal.¡± ¡°DEAL!¡± The whole affair was concluded with a shake of hands, and a signing of the contract which resulted in the immediate ¡®transfer¡¯ of the coins over to Etholin in the form of a trail of gold flowing directly to the little pouch on his belt. The rest of the gold was quickly dumped out of Etholin¡¯s hat and into Ilunor¡¯s own pouch, one that grew to size in order to fit the sheer volume of gold, only to shrink back into a small pouch that clipped onto his belt. The whole affair was surprisingly civil, especially when compared to the Auris Ping drama that had preceded it. Immediately following that however, I felt a tap on my shoulder, as Chiska gestured for me to follow with an expectant smile. ¡°Walk with me, Cadet Booker.¡± She urged. I complied with a shrug, as a privacy screen soon blanketed the both of us. ¡°There are few things that surprise me in my old age, Cadet Booker. Fewer that brings me both a sense of excitement and hope. Part of this, of course, comes from your refreshing adherence to the noble expectations of a gentler time. Though I would be lying if I didn¡¯t mention the dragon in the cell, or in this case, your uncanny abilities to defy standard conventions of strength and endurance.¡± The professor began with that same overture of positivity she exuded from her end-of-period announcement. ¡°With that being said, I understand that there are¡­ certain limits placed upon how much you can elaborate on these uncanny abilities. So, in the spirit of the rules, but in placating that ever-present gnawing of curiosity, I must ask¡­ exactly what happened between the mana-less, and magical trials?¡± I paused for a moment, as we now reached the foot of the bleachers, with most students currently in the process of leaving the stands. ¡°I applied that which I am not allowed to talk about, professor.¡± I responded with a knowing ¡®wink¡¯. ¡°I pushed beyond my natural limits, using techniques never before seen, or heard of, in the Nexus, and beyond.¡± I continued vaguely, only eliciting a greater degree of scrutinizing stares from the professor. ¡°I see.¡± The professor nodded, placing her chin between her fingers as she entered a state of deep thought. ¡°And is that all?¡± ¡°As far as the dean will allow me to say, Professor.¡± A frustrated sigh escaped from Chiska¡¯s short muzzle. ¡°I see. Well¡­ it¡¯s not like there¡¯s going to be a shortage of time with you, Cadet Booker. We¡¯ll have to see where this rabbit hole takes us then. Until such time, I bid you farewell.¡± The professor closed things off with a smile, as she quickly hopped back on the wyvern that¡¯d been following us all this time. ¡°Oh! And do contact me if you ever want to sign up for extracurriculars! My office will always be open to you, Cadet Booker!¡± She shouted, dropping the privacy screen, and leaving the same way she entered ¡ª through the skylight. This time around, she¡¯d simply phased through the glass, saving us from the hassle of being impaled by a hundred shards of shattered glass. ¡°Well well well.¡± A familiar voice emerged, one that was accompanied by a loud clink with every other step. ¡°For someone who seems so confused by the theater of life, you seem to play the role of the knight in shining white armor quite well, earthrealmer!¡± Ilunor began with a voice of unfettered joy. ¡°It was just a handshake, Ilunor. It was literally just a handshake. Why do you guys have to make such a huge deal out of every little thing? Especially ones meant to de-escalate things?¡± I shot out with a frustrated breath. ¡°And no, before you answer, I know, I know. It¡¯s a statement of superiority, an affront to the established class order, etcetera, etcetera.¡± I groaned. ¡°Intentionally or not, you have made great strides in improving our standing. So thank you, earthrealmer.¡± The blue thing once more shocked me with this growing sense of appreciation, sending me into wordlessness as I stood there shook by his compliments. ¡°Do not be enamored by his honeyed words, Emma.¡± Thalmin retorted, moving towards us now after sending the ever-enamored Cynthis away. ¡°Note how he only reacts positively when he has something to gain. Which today was three-fold. The points you earned, the reputation you accrued, and the coin you¡¯ve secured for him through your victory.¡± ¡°The coins which I earned, mind you, Prince Havenbrock! If it wasn¡¯t for my quick-thinking, then there would be no coin to speak of!¡± ¡°And if it wasn¡¯t for Emma, then you¡¯d have nothing to bet off of.¡± The prince growled. ¡°Therefore, the coin should be awarded to those most deserving of it.¡± Thacea finally interjected. ¡°Given the nature of the upcoming trip into Elaseer for school supplies, and given the cruel nature of being the candidate of a newrealm, these funds should prove useful.¡± The avinor began, as she elicited a sigh from the Vunerian. ¡°I was going to suggest that, princess.¡± He announced dejectedly. ¡°I have my doubts about that.¡± Thalmin butted in, but was promptly ignored by the Vunerian. ¡°I will hand over only what is necessary for this town trip.¡± Ilunor clarified. ¡°Only a quarter should cover the costs of her supplies! If she even needs any, that is!¡± ¡°We may be looking into using about half, if not more than those funds, Ilunor.¡± Thacea countered, eliciting a look of shock from the Vunerian, as she gestured for us to continue off and out of the stands. ¡°This may be better discussed somewhere more private.¡± With a collective nod between all of us, we began making our way back towards the dorms. Though a mostly wordless trip, one conversation did crop up, as I quickly addressed Thacea with an appreciative nod. ¡°Thanks again for the scarf, Thacea. I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ll probably want it back though¡ª¡± I spoke, reaching over to remove the red scarf, only to be stopped by the avinor. ¡°It¡¯s quite alright, Emma.¡± She responded politely, and with a candid smile. ¡°I¡¯d rather you keep it as a keepsake of today¡¯s adventures. Moreover, I¡¯m more than certain it should prove useful next class, so there¡¯s no need to return it.¡± ¡°Thanks, Thacea.¡± I nodded with a smile, keeping the scarf on for now with a smile of my own.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 1220 Hours. Emma ¡°The PMC route, huh?¡± I muttered out, more to myself, than anyone else. ¡°You know, that¡¯s what I¡¯ve been considering too, but I never thought that it would be this¡­ straightforward.¡± I offered, prompting Thacea to nod once in response. ¡°Adventurers exist for a reason, Emma. For situations that may require a¡­ third party, or in circumstances where an unaffiliated party may be required, or even in instances such as these, where your own assets may be limited ¡ª they offer an easy solution to enhance one¡¯s reach.¡± ¡°Provided you have enough coin, that is.¡± Ilunor chimed in with an annoyed groan. ¡°Searching for an amethyst dragon¡­ is most certainly going to be expensive.¡± Thalmin admitted. ¡°Expensive is a relative term, Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor shot back, before sighing inwardly. ¡°Though in this case, within the context of our recent winnings, it may indeed be quite costly.¡± ¡°My estimates put the potential cost of a search for the amethyst dragon to be at approximately two-thousand five hundred sovereigns, not including provisions, guild fees, taxes, or under-table taxes.¡± Thacea quickly added. ¡°And that¡¯s not even including the specialist fees that may be tacked on to such a quest. Moreover, the nature of the quest must be specified, as you may find there to be a stark difference between simply tracking down the dragon, versus slaying it outright.¡± Ilunor perked up. ¡°Because those are two fundamentally different tasks, princess.¡± ¡°The former may incur as much costs as the latter, Ilunor.¡± Thalmin offered with a raised hand. ¡°From my experiences in hiring adventurers, there seems to be an equivalent fee in stealth as there is in combat. For finding the dragon is one thing, but maintaining stealth whilst approaching and evading it is another.¡± ¡°Which may cost as much as actually engaging it, if not a bit less, I suppose.¡± Ilunor shrugged. ¡°The real reason why combat missions incur a higher toll, is the potential for compensation for a dead adventurer, or a hefty fee in reviving them.¡± Thalmin chimed in, eliciting a nod from both Thacea and Ilunor. ¡°Hazard fee, injury fee, full medical coverage, gotcha.¡± I surmised. ¡°Alright, so, whether we decide to find it or kill it, I gotta ask. How much are we looking at this then, like, total?¡± ¡°Five thousand gold, give or take? With all the fees included. Not including the potential compensation for lost lives or revivals.¡± Ilunor chimed in, prompting Thacea to nod affirmatively. ¡°A conservative estimate of the fees, but close enough.¡± Thalmin added. ¡°Alright, well, that seems good enough I suppose.¡± I let out a hefty sigh. ¡°In any case, maybe we could continue discussing this at a later time? I think we have a library to visit, Ilunor.¡± I stated bluntly, prompting the Vunerian to shiver in place. ¡°But before that, we need to pay a visit to the armorer to retrieve a certain little book, the sign did say he would be open today after all.¡± ¡°Oh here we go again¡­ dear Majesty, protect me¡­¡± Ilunor muttered out under his breath. Chapter 94: Master Forger The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea¡¯s Dorm. Local Time: 1545 Hours. Thalmin A considerable amount of time was spent on drafting out our plans, so much so that Emma had temporarily retired to her tent. However, by the end of it, we¡¯d found ourselves with our battle lines now drawn and our pieces tentatively placed. Though far from complete, and more the product of overeager restlessness stemming from the highs of our recent victories, our goals had become clearer; our paths now better defined. Or at least, marginally so, given we now had a sense of direction with some of our campaigns. Our primary quest remained the same ¡ª survive the academy, at any cost. Though this was easier said than done, and subject to the whims of outside forces and parties both known and enigmatic. Dramatics aside, there was little we could do to actually prepare for the Academy, for all our preparation had already been done for us in the form of the schedules and timetables. All we could really do, was to familiarize ourselves with what was already known. It was the element of the unexpected that truly worried me however; Auris¡¯ unprovoked assault being a fine example of the titular ¡®unexpected¡¯. As a result, it was our side-quests that had taken more form. As unlike our primary campaign, our optional side-quests were ours to dictate, and our responsibility alone. The recent string of successes in the form of our most recent discoveries, to our most recent gains, solidified that notion; giving us the prerequisites we needed to push forward with the completion of our goals. The discovery of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s notebook was a step forward, if not the first major step, towards completing the library campaign; a matter which bound both Emma and Ilunor¡¯s fates. The lump sum gained from the Vunerian¡¯s wager, would grant us the ability to extend our reach into the vast unknowns of the Nexus, in search of this amethyst dragon. Thereby taking us one step closer towards the reconstruction of Emma¡¯s transplanar communications artifice; giving her the ability to at the very least communicate back home albeit in a rudimentary fashion. The results of which would undoubtedly allow for Emma¡¯s clandestine operations to truly begin, and a new stage in our peer group¡¯s dynamics to truly take shape. Whilst limited in its capacity to relay information, given the newrealmer¡¯s limited understanding of transplanar communication and the inherent limitations of the crystal when utilized in this¡­ unconventional setup, the fact remained that so long as it was Emma that was communicating, and so long as Emma remained the de-facto representative of Earthrealm¡­ we would at least stand a chance at breaking from the insipid constance that was Status Eternia. For each hour that passes, and each moment that we grow closer, so too does Havenbrock¡¯s chances at forming a tangible alliance grow with it. If Emma fails to contact Earthrealm, if spirits and ancestors forbid¡­ she somehow fails and is replaced or entirely excommunicated¡­ all hopes at forming something tangible will be lost with it. Moreover, all hopes of Emma¡¯s mission succeeding would be completely expunged. That was something I could not allow, not from a utilitarian, nor from a moral and ethical perspective, and most especially not as her friend. This was more than a ¡®once in a lifetime¡¯ opportunity, this went far beyond a ¡®generational event¡¯... this was a paradigm shift with which I had the capability of not just influencing, but outright facilitating. Perhaps it was my foolishness, my brazenness, or even my own shortcomings¡­ but I only see one correct path ahead ¡ª the path that most would call a leap of faith. Though in my eyes, if life were to present an opportunity never before seen, and not at all comparable to any event in history, then only a fool would be one to refuse such an opportunity. After all, Havenbrock wouldn¡¯t be what it currently is if we hadn¡¯t taken the initiative. So it stands to reason that there was precedence for my ultimate goals, and the actions I was willing to take to reach those ends. As it stood now however, the planning had more or less been put on hold following Emma¡¯s inexplicable departure for her tent. Though it¡¯d been a solid few hours since her sudden departure¡­ ¡°Do you think she¡¯s dead?¡± The Vunerian announced abruptly, completely out of nowhere, prompting Thacea¡¯s furious scribbling to halt in her tracks. ¡°What in the wide expanse of the Nexus, has possessed you to say that?!¡± I questioned with a firm growl, scooting up from my slouch towards the Vunerian who seemed entirely unbothered by my outcry. He remained supine atop of ¡®his¡¯ fainting couch, his head propped up by a pillow, and his arm lazily reaching towards a small tower of jellied treats. ¡°Well it¡¯s just she has been gone for a while now.¡± The Vunerian responded with a dismissive shrug. ¡°Long enough that the kitchen was able to provide us with refreshments. I mean¡­ she did say she would only ¡®be a moment¡¯.¡± He added, putting up a frustratingly ¡®innocent¡¯ front. ¡°If you haven¡¯t something constructive to say, then don¡¯t say anything at all, Ilunor.¡± I growled back in annoyance. ¡°I was merely being facetious, Thalmin.¡± The blue thing finally ¡®surrendered¡¯, feigning the motion by raising both of his hands above his chest, momentarily halting the otherwise uninterrupted flow of food from tray-to-mouth. ¡°In any case¡ª¡± Thacea chimed in, providing an off-ramp to the Vunerian¡¯s attempt at distasteful humor. ¡°¡ªperhaps we should refocus our attention back towards something a bit more productive?¡± ¡°What is there left to discuss, princess?¡± Ilunor offered with a sigh. ¡°The plan is simple, no?¡± ¡°The plan requires some finessing, Ilunor.¡± Thacea shot back, before revealing the schedule she¡¯d mapped out for us on her notebook. ¡°First of all, we need to rise first thing in the morning, to beat the crowds of students into town such that we may indulge in having first and unmonitored rights on the great many items for purchase from within the ambassadorial and crown-patronage district.¡± ¡°Reservations on early rising aside¡­ you make an excellent point, princess.¡± Ilunor spoke through a toothy grin. ¡°For this will allow us to sample the local delights of Elaseer! Oh how the town provides a veritable cornucopia worth of choices through which the culinarily inclined amongst us may revel in¡ª¡± ¡°Of course food is on your mind, even when discussing matters of grave importance.¡± I muttered out, interrupting the Vunerian with a frustrated sigh. ¡°Ilunor has a point, Thalmin.¡± Thacea unexpectedly interjected, prompting the both of us to widen our eyes at her. ¡°Excuse me?¡± We both reflexively uttered out at exactly the same time. ¡°Our journey through the town¡¯s great many delights within the ambassadorial district isn¡¯t merely one of self-indulgence¡­ for it is here where we will acquire the weapons with which the war of words shall be waged. For as much as the processes of commerce may be powered through the power of coin, so too is it accelerated by the rhythms of philanthropy.¡± ¡°Gift-giving.¡± Ilunor surmised with a cock of his head. ¡°Are you unaccustomed to the practice, Lord Rularia?¡± The princess shot back. ¡°Hardly.¡± The Vunerian replied with an indignant huff. ¡°Though I scarcely see why we would need to entertain commoners with such time-consuming endeavors. They scarcely deserve our attention as is.¡± ¡°The¡­ proposition we bring to the table, is one which supersedes what is seen in typical transactions, Ilunor.¡± ¡°They should be honored to receive such a command from their betters, princess. I¡¯m honestly surprised you¡¯d stoop to such lows so as to even entertain the concept of gift giving to commoners, let alone announce it as part of our plans.¡± ¡°They aren¡¯t your commoners, Ilunor.¡± I quickly added. ¡°They are Nexians, farlanders at that, or midlanders at best. But as with all who live in the outlands, they all fall beneath my authority as a member of the Nexian nobility.¡± The blue thing announced with such confidence and assuredness that it felt as if his words were gospel; a fact that came naturally to his Nexian upbringing. ¡°Be that as it may, my experiences with nobility and commoners alike have proven that by committing to the act of gift-giving, all transactions become seamless, and all orders become amenable. Complex transactions which would have otherwise been begrudgingly followed through, are carried out with greater ease, whilst simple orders become outright offers on the party being requested. By showing a level of reciprocity and kindness, even if it may be artificial, you establish a relationship of mutualism.¡± The princess clarified, though this did little to temper the Vunerian¡¯s incessant huffs. ¡°Difficult or impossible, simple or benign, it makes no difference. The status eternia demands a strict adherence to the established hierarchy of authority.¡± The Vunerian spoke firmly, and with a level of impetulance that I thought he¡¯d already gotten over. Though it was clear that this was perhaps more so a growth towards tolerating Emma, rather than a complete reformation of his worldview. ¡°And yet here you are, conspiring towards defying that authority, partly as a result of having been conspired against and then thrown away like a used rag by said authority.¡± I doubled down, prompting the Vunerian to suddenly go silent once more, sending him into self-reflection. ¡°Starlight Sparkling Muffin, and Breathing Bread.¡± He spoke suddenly. ¡°We should seek out those two desserts first thing in the morning, if you wish to fulfill this frivolous adjacent quest.¡± He quickly clarified through a seething frustration. That definitely gave him a wakeup call he needed. ¡°Thank you for the recommendations, Ilunor.¡± Thacea offered with a polite smile, noting the items down. ¡°Moreover, we will have to discuss further what exactly a typical Nexian outlander, a privileged commoner at that, might desire; at least in terms of enchanted items exclusive to the crown-patronage district.¡± ¡°To touch on the previous point, Ilunor¡­¡± I began soon after, taking on a more reserved tone. ¡°As I mentioned before, this isn¡¯t your run of the mill request. We aren¡¯t posting a typical tracker¡¯s quest for a runaway golem or a missing familiar or something innocuous and inane. This is a dragon quest we¡¯re discussing. And from my experiences back home, the most comparable quest being that of a sea-serpent hunt, these sorts of things aren¡¯t to be taken lightly. You may not value the lives of commoners as much as your fellow noblemen¡­ but understand that every individual values their lives as much as you.¡± ¡°Which means that for such a high-risk request, comes a scaling difficulty in finding individuals ready to tackle such a quest. Just reaching the negotiating table, let alone the point in which coin becomes relevant, is a task unto itself.¡± Thacea quickly added. The Vunerian went silent at this, as it was clear that the clash between Adjacent realm politicking and Nexian expectant authority was now coming to a head. Ilunor lived in a world where authority was guaranteed, at least, as it pertained to his subordinates. Thacea, whose afflictions were a constant source of scorn and scrutiny, lived a life wherein her authority was constantly in question as a result. Ilunor¡¯s authority came passively, whilst Thacea fought to both maintain and execute it. These two divergent schools of thinking¡­ brought about an equally divergent approach to achieving any given ends. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Ilunor¡¯s school of thought was what brought an end to the previous corrupt regime in Havenbrock. But given he was Nexian¡­ so long as he didn¡¯t rock the boat, his authority was all but guaranteed. This was no longer the case however, as the incident with Mal¡¯tory, the library, and other such political quagmires have shown. So the Vunerian would have to adapt, to live by the example of his ¡®lessers¡¯... lest he lose everything to the greater game being played. He would have to overcome his habits of authority, to at least adopt an adjacent model, of having to work to maintain and execute one¡¯s authority. Only time would tell if he would be successful at this, however. And ultimately, his fate would be his own to decide. ¡°With all that being said, I believe that concludes the first portion of our plan.¡± Thacea announced. ¡°The rest of our plans for the adventurers might require more of Emma¡¯s input.¡± I reasoned. ¡°Indeed. She still hasn¡¯t decided on just how she intends on dealing with the amethyst dragon.¡± Thacea responded. ¡°If it¡¯s anything like her actions thus far¡­ she will more than likely have some sort of an unexpected addition, or an entirely unexpected plan that shatters the norm.¡± Ilunor offered with a frustrated sigh, just as the door to Emma and Thacea¡¯s door opened, revealing the armored earthrealmer. ¡°THREE HOURS?!¡± She practically hollered through her helmet, yet despite the suddenness of that vocalization, there was surprisingly little physical indication as to her panic; the armor blocking the way of most body language cues. Thacea, bringing up her pocket watch, nodded at Emma¡¯s boisterous proclamations. ¡°Indeed, Emma.¡± ¡°Gosh, I¡¯m so sorry guys. I was working on a few projects here and there, and kinda just¡­ passed out in the middle of them.¡± She spoke earnestly, and once again, with that refreshing candidness that reminded me more of a fellow Havenbrockian comrade-in-arms, than any adjacent nobility. ¡°Given your recent displays in the gymnasium, Emma? I would be surprised if you weren¡¯t showing signs of fatigue one way or another.¡± I offered with a friendly smile. ¡°In any case, there¡¯s no reason to fret, we¡¯ve just been finalizing some ideas on the current plan of attack.¡± I gestured towards Thacea¡¯s notebook. ¡°Which leads me to a rather topical question that¡¯s just been raised¡­ exactly what are your plans for the dragon, Emma?¡± ¡°Good question! Honestly, I¡¯ve been dwelling on this for a bit now, and I¡¯ve reached a pretty solid conclusion.¡± She breathed in deeply. ¡°I don¡¯t want to incur any potential outside casualties, at least not for my own operations. The idea of risking someone else¡¯s life, even if we do provide them with a hefty compensation, is something that¡¯s a bit iffy to me. Especially since this is supposed to be my operation. Whilst there are provisions in my mission protocols that grants me some leniency in the contracting of local assets, I¡¯d rather we keep that to non-combat roles, or at least support roles. So, with that being said, that leaves the scout and track mission for the adventurers I guess.¡± ¡°That is¡­ a somewhat strange position to take, Emma.¡± I retorted, cocking my head as I did so. ¡°There is no shame nor dishonor in having others die for your cause, even if those that sign on have joined not for honor but only for coin. For the honor of battle and death are shared equally on the battlefield, so long as you hold true to integrity and your own values.¡± ¡°I understand where you¡¯re coming from, Thalmin.¡± Emma admitted. ¡°But let¡¯s just say I¡¯d rather not test the limits of my mission protocols¡¯ leniency. Moreover, I¡¯d rather not want to cause more fuss for the end-of-the-year auditors back at home when I get back.¡± She chuckled awkwardly at that statement, before moving on. ¡°It¡¯s not so much about the honor or dishonor thing really, it¡¯s honestly just death itself. I¡¯d rather not cause any undue deaths, at least, if I can help it. That¡¯s of course, in addition to my mission protocols and other trivial legal details of course but I digress. Besides, this is ultimately my mess to deal with, and I¡¯m sure that if a bunch of adventurers can deal with a dragon? I¡¯d have no issue with this oversized lizard.¡± She quickly added with a confident pose. ¡°Scouting and tracking¡­ that should make things easier.¡± Thacea announced with a firm nod, jotting down the details as they came. ¡°So that settles it. Tomorrow, we head first thing to the crown-patronage district, and after purchasing gifts, we will immediately set our sights on the adventurer¡¯s guild hall. Given the nature of Elaseer, we should be able to be assigned at least a wyvern-class adventuring party.¡± ¡°I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s¡­ good? Bad? I¡¯m not sure how the ¡®ranking¡¯ or classification system works here.¡± Emma admitted. ¡°Nexian classification systems for adventurers are rather straightforward.¡± I promptly answered. ¡°The short of it is that each ¡®class¡¯ corresponds to the greatest beast the group has managed to dispatch, thereby acting as a shorthand of their theoretical combat potential.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Emma responded with a nod. ¡°Ahem¡­¡± Came a clearing of the Vunerian¡¯s throat, as he promptly got back to his feet, skittering his way towards Emma. ¡°If this adventuring business is sorted¡­ I believe we have more pressing matters to attend to, Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Yup. I was about to get to that. I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s all for the whole adventuring business for now. Right, guys?¡± ¡°I believe that¡¯s all we can plan for when it comes to tomorrow¡¯s gambit, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged. ¡°Good! With that sorted, let¡¯s pay the armorer a visit, Ilunor.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Armorer¡¯s Workshop. Local Time: 1630 Hours. Emma The plan was simple. Talk to Sorecar, grab the book, and go. It was the first part of that plan however, that would prove a bit more involved than I thought. Because as soon as I¡¯d entered the metal-warping sauna that was the workshop, so too was I met with a series of mirthful guffaws, the man¡¯s deep and boisterous voice giving it an almost Santa-esque vibe. ¡°Ho-ho-ho! Welcome! Welcome back, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm!¡± Sorecar announced, his voice resonating from deep within the armor. ¡°And might I say, congratulations on your victories at the encabulator trials! When I¡¯d heard Professor Chiska¡¯s request through the grapevine, I believed I¡¯d finally gone mad! For I can scarcely remember the last time the encabulator was requested! Why¡­ I was utterly struck with a sudden case of gleeful indecision as to what I¡¯d put into the encabulator this time around!¡± ¡°So¡­ the whole thing was your design, Professor?¡± I replied, more or less voluntarily plunging into the smalltalk trap he¡¯d sprung. ¡°Were you able to tell?¡± The man questioned confidently, leaning in closer in what I was now seeing as an attempt to overcome the gross limitations of armored life. Something I was becoming acutely accustomed to now. ¡°Now that I think about it¡­ it certainly seems right up your alley, professor.¡± I managed out with a chuckle. ¡°I doubt most other professors would have the same plays of¡­ creativity.¡± ¡°Oh, I wasn¡¯t really being creative! Merely, I was drawing from what I assume were old memories hidden somewhere deep within the recesses of my old mind!¡± The man responded, clanking his empty helmet in the process. ¡°I merely took inspiration from what I can only assume was my adventuring years. What memories that remain, that is¡­ But I digress! Let us let bygones be bygones! Let¡¯s just say, I¡¯m grateful I was at least able to be of entertaining service this time around!¡± ¡°Well, thank you for setting the whole match up, professor. Aside from a few complications, and the intensity of it all in the heat of the moment, it was honestly quite an entertaining experience.¡± I offered truthfully, eliciting yet another series of rattles from the man¡¯s armor, as he laughed back with a confident and gleeful bout of joy. ¡°But I¡¯m afraid my visit here isn¡¯t entirely celebratory in nature, professor.¡± I quickly added, a tinge of guilt coloring my voice, as I genuinely felt bad for consistently dampening the professor¡¯s untempered enthusiasm with my endless calls for aid. ¡°Oh?¡± He responded, somehow managing to keep up his energetic spirits despite the sudden turn. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re here for some academic purpose, yes?¡± ¡°I¡­ guess you could say that, professor.¡± I managed out sheepishly. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a book, an extracurricular book, if you understand my meaning.¡± I continued, hoping to sidestep whatever monitoring bugs may exist within the workshop, or even within the man¡¯s own shackled soul. ¡°Oh! I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re looking for something a bit more hard-hitting than most, yes? Perhaps something along the lines of a series of various recommended reading materials for the studious student?¡± He responded with what was undoubtedly a smug grin, as I could just about hear the coyness oozing from every decibel of his voice. My memories, Ilunor¡¯s response, and the EVI¡¯s in-HUD prompting, all more or less picked up on that title. As alarm bells rang through my mind, prompting me to nod without hesitation. ¡°That sounds great, professor!¡± I responded, prompting Sorecar to conjure up that familiar green book with a snap of his fingers. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°I just so happen to have this little old thing lying around!¡± He handed me the book, one that I¡¯d only seen from afar from the infildrone¡¯s vantage point. It was jarring to finally see it in person, but I¡¯d be lying if I didn¡¯t feel a sense of relief washing over me as I reached for it. Ilunor, however, took a few steps back as I did so, his whole body quivering as the book was brought into view. The Vunerian eyed the book warily as my hand made contact with it, his features contorting as if he expected me to be rendered to dust or something the moment I held the pages in my hand. ¡°I¡¯m assuming this is the¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s a work, befitting of my skills as a master forger, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The man beamed, more or less using the same verbal cues as the night of that investigation with Larial. ¡°Right.¡± I nodded. ¡°And you¡¯re sure this book will be alright to use? I mean, will anyone be able to tell the difference? I honestly would¡¯ve preferred to have my hands on the original¡ª¡± ¡°Trust me, Cadet Emma Booker! This book was crafted utilizing every possible skillset I have at my disposal, and every tool and material I have available to me! It¡¯s perfect by every metric, and I¡¯m certain that regardless of who needs it next, it will be indistinguishable, and good to use in any context that may require the original!¡± The man reassured me with a massive pat on my back. One that would¡¯ve sent me lurching forwards if it weren¡¯t for the armor. ¡°Alright, professor.¡± I nodded, his words instilling within me a sense of confidence that managed to silence even the greatest of doubts welling within me. ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡±
The Library. Local Time: 1655 Emma ¡°This is truly a work of master forgery, Cadet Emma Booker. Tell me, whose aid did you request to create such an impeccable work of fabrication?¡± The owl glowered, his talons sinking into the leather of the book, yet somehow refusing to incur any damage onto it. ¡°A master forger, I¡¯d imagine.¡± I replied with a frustrated sigh, all of my doubts crashing back down onto me with the force of a kinetic kill strike. The owl took a moment to meet my gaze, as we stared at one another for the longest time. ¡°If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d assume you were attempting to shirk your duties, or worse¡­ cheat the library out of your own aims. However¡ª¡± The owl paused, taking a moment to readjust his little hat. ¡°¡ªyou are a creature of candor, Cadet Emma Booker. That much is clear to me. The library, thus, does not take offense to the submission of this forgery. However, we expect that the genuine article will be submitted to complete your seekership quest.¡± ¡°Hold on just a minute, librarian.¡± I countered. ¡°Forgery as it may be, it¡¯s still a one-to-one copy of the original. I even have footage of it being recovered from Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office.¡± ¡°Yes, the mana-less memory shards you¡¯ve momentarily revealed to us earlier. The library finds these pieces of evidence to be¡­ compelling, but not to its liking. Moreover, it wishes for the original copy of this book in order to verify its signature and residue. The former, being an attribute which would allow us to ascertain the original creator of the notebook, and the latter, being a distinct trace of the spells once bound to it. Because remember, Cadet Emma Booker, the claim you set forth is that the notebook was a conduit through which the spells of binding were forced onto your Vunerian peer. If that is the case, the original should still have these traces somewhere within its pages. The forgery¡­ does not have any of this. Thus, the library requests that you return with the original.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I responded with a winded breath. ¡°Okay then¡­ I guess I have one final question for you.¡± ¡°Go on?¡± ¡°Will it be alright with you if I just loaned you the original copy?¡± The librarian paused to ponder the request, his eyes narrowing. ¡°And why do you wish to add this caveat, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Because¡­ there¡¯s a lot of complicated political back and forths right now outside of the library, and this notebook is currently caught in the middle of the crossfire. Someone who¡¯s¡­ a tentative ally, in a manner of speaking, really needs this notebook right now. It¡¯s going to be tough getting this book from them as it stands, but if it¡¯s permanently out of their hands, well¡­¡± I paused, wracking my head around Larial¡¯s current situation. ¡°... it certainly won¡¯t end up well for them. Which is something I¡¯d rather avoid.¡± The librarian pondered this for a few more seconds, turning up towards the ceiling of the library, which once again warped into a display of nonsensical shapes and colors. ¡°The library is¡­ amenable to this unusual request, Cadet Emma Booker. However, there is one thing you must understand ¡ª it will not be as tolerant for further amendments to our agreements.¡± ¡°Understood, librarian.¡± I nodded, bowing slightly to show my appreciation. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Now, off you go then. And do not forget to return by the end of the week as per our contractual obligations¡­ your Vunerian friend seems to be growing greener around the gills by the day.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Armorer¡¯s Workshop. Local Time: 1740 Hours. Emma ¡°That feather-brained dolt said WHAT?!¡± Sorecar shot back with an incredulous shout, one that resonated throughout the entirety of the workshop, causing suits of armor to rattle, and weapons to fall off of their fixtures. ¡°Erm, word for word, professor? He said¡ª¡± ¡°You needn¡¯t repeat yourself, Emma Booker.¡± The armorer writhed and seethed, twisting and turning in place. ¡°How dare he. How dare he insult the work of Sorecar the Master Forger!¡± ¡°I think you should perhaps rethink that title, professor.¡± I responded with a candid sigh, as we both found ourselves sitting on one of the few benches in the room. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m going to need the original, professor.¡± I stated earnestly. ¡°And I¡¯m afraid you will find it quite impossible to acquire, Emma Booker.¡± The man responded candidly. ¡°I don¡¯t need it like, permanently, professor. The librarian and I have reached¡­ a mutual understanding. I only need it temporarily, for him to look over. So all I need to do is to just borrow the original. Surely that¡¯s possible, right?¡± A moment of silence descended on us, as Sorecar placed his helmet between both of his hands. ¡°That makes things easier, but that still doesn¡¯t make the task easy, Emma Booker. The apprentice¡¯s responsibilities have made it such that reaching her and by extension, the original copy, is a task that might not be possible within the week. However, difficulties in scheduling aside, I suppose that caveat has turned this from an impossible mission, to something merely improbable.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good enough for me, professor. My existence here is already impossible to most¡­ so what¡¯s a bit of improbable operations to be thrown into the mix? So¡­ with that being said, do you happen to have the apprentice¡¯s schedule on hand?¡± Chapter 95: I Love Gold The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Armorer¡¯s Workshop en route to the Dorms. Local Time: 1710 Hours. Emma We left Sorecar¡¯s workshop with mixed feelings. Though it was clear that the slow progress weighed heavier on Ilunor¡¯s shoulders than my own. ¡°Away on Academy Business until further notice.¡± I parrotted the armorer¡¯s words. However, instead of simply moaning and groaning to a crowd of two ¡ª that being myself and the EVI ¡ª I instead found myself voicing my frustrations to a third party. Someone who, not too long ago, had made his last moves against me in the very halls we currently found ourselves in. It¡¯s funny how things have changed so drastically since then. ¡°We have learned nothing new.¡± The Vunerian responded with a frustrated breath. ¡°We already know of the apprentice¡¯s plans through your manaless artifices, earthrealmer. The armorer is simply reaffirming what we already know.¡± ¡°Eh, it was worth a shot. There was no harm in asking ¡ª especially after the library¡¯s rejection.¡± I replied with a shrug. ¡°In any case, we should still be good to go on that front. There¡¯s ample time next week to make our gambit for the apprentice and the book. Whether we approach her upfront, or quietly borrow it, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡°Your overconfidence will eventually be the death of us.¡± The Vunerian responded with a frustrated breath. ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m sure there won¡¯t be an issue with¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s not the apprentice I¡¯m worried about.¡± Ilunor interjected with a hiss. ¡°It was your actions with the library earlier. Your insistence on loaning the book to the library, pushing for a modification to preexisting terms, thereby risking the integrity of our prior agreements.¡± ¡°Hey, it needed to be said, right? The library only really needs the original to look over, not to keep. But the apprentice on the other hand needs the book for the inquisition or whatnot. If we were to permanently take it¡­ well¡­ One ¡ª requesting it would be off the table. And two ¡ª she¡¯d get in deep trouble. It would be a bad look for Larial, Mal¡¯tory¡¯s apprentice, to be completely empty handed when the inquisition arrives. Heck, it¡¯d make her look like a full on collaborator. So yeah¡­ I¡¯m just putting two and two together and trying to make the best out of the situation.¡± I offered. The Vunerian, whilst considering my words, still held that apprehensive expression. ¡°You put too much care on those outside of our circle, earthrealmer. And whilst this would be acceptable in most other scenarios¡­ I would rather you not tempt fate when it pertains to matters involving the library.¡± ¡°Or more accurately, in matters involving your fate, right?¡± I countered. The Vunerian visibly flinched at that. It was at that moment that I finally came to a halt, just before we could reach the exit from Sorecar¡¯s domain. ¡°Listen, I get it, Ilunor. It¡¯s a pretty intense situation, but I¡¯m genuinely just trying my best here. So trust me when I say this ¡ª everything will be fine. Besides, we have ample time for what is essentially your questline, Ilunor. So, we¡¯re in no rush.¡± That stray comment seemed to affect him even more, as he visibly lost color to his cheeks, turning as white as a ghost for a split second. ¡°Unless, of course, there¡¯s something you need to tell me regarding the specifics of your agreement with the library ¡ª the so-called ¡®collateral¡¯ you offered that made it so confident that you wouldn¡¯t just run off.¡± I quickly added, utilizing the Vunerian¡¯s bout of silence as a jumping off point for a question that''s been on my mind since that day we lawyered up. ¡°You¡¯ve yet to tell me about the specifics behind your deal with the library, and I know, I know, it¡¯s probably something that you don¡¯t want spread around. But trust me when I say this Ilunor ¡ª I have neither the desire nor the rotten character to leak this sort of sensitive information. And since we¡¯re both in this together, I just want to know ¡ª what exactly does the library have on you? As in, what could the library have agreed to, that allowed you to more or less leave scott free?¡± The Vunerian took my cue to stop, and halted just before the periphery of the exit. This was one of the rare few moments where he refused to meet my gaze, instead, electing to sidestep it entirely by keeping his eyes shut. ¡°Our agreement¡­ is a personal matter, Emma.¡± He offered. ¡°I¡­ cannot, and will not divulge such a sensitive matter.¡± Ilunor spoke in a way that provoked some genuine concern in me. This was especially more worrying considering my new found knowledge on the existence of literal mind-bombs, primed to activate when certain topics were touched upon. The library had promised me it wouldn¡¯t go that route, but I just needed to double-check, especially given how vague the Vunerian was. ¡°Is this like¡­ one of those mind-curse things that Mal¡¯tory had put on you before or¡ª¡± ¡°No! No¡­ I would¡¯ve never agreed to that even if the library had offered. No. This¡­ is a matter which whilst I have the freedom to divulge, I simply do not wish to divulge.¡± He quickly interrupted, clarifying and putting that concern to rest. The library definitely got brownie points for not stooping to that low, at least in my book. ¡°So it¡¯s that sensitive, huh?¡± I offered, before quickly registering the library¡¯s earlier statements. ¡°This¡­ doesn¡¯t by any chance have something to do with the cryptic message the librarian gave you before we left today, did it? Something about how it was reminding you to return by the end of the week as per the agreements, or else¡­ what was it?¡± I paused, as the EVI brought up the transcripts of that conversation word-for-word. ¡°Something about how you quote: ¡®seem to be growing greener around the gills by the day¡¯?¡± That statement, repeated verbatim, caused Ilunor¡¯s whole body to shiver in place. And for a moment, I swore I could see his scales going pale with dread. ¡°I¡¯d prefer if we moved on, earthrealmer.¡± He urged, walking forward and then dropping the privacy screen altogether. ¡°So long as it¡¯s not something life-threatening, then I guess I¡¯m fine with whatever you have going on, Ilunor.¡± I offered, trying my best to de-escalate from that conversation.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Local Time: 1755 Hours. Emma There was a collective move, initiated by Thacea, towards having dinner delivered to the dorms rather than eating out in the grand dining hall. The reason for this was simple ¡ª we¡¯d caused enough buzz today already. Heading to dinner, at an end of the week dinner at that, was just asking for trouble. Or, in Thacea¡¯s own words¡­ ¡°We¡¯d be required to make a statement as to our intentions as a major player in the greater games. And whether we like it or not, a statement will be drawn from even the most innocuous of actions, be it silence or a standing ovation.¡± And whilst Thalmin agreed, it was Ilunor who argued for our presence in the grand dining hall. ¡°Our very absence will be a statement in and of itself!¡± He argued. To which Thacea nodded in agreement, ending off the back and forth with a series of simple conclusions. All of which, boiled down to one very simple notion that even I could get behind ¡ª damage control. ¡°Whilst I do agree with your statements, Ilunor, I believe you¡¯ve already garnered what you wanted from your bold and drastic social maneuvers. In addition, I believe Emma has likewise already made enough of a visible statement as it stands. To expand on both of these dramatic successes born of action, through the spoken word, would be to risk the integrity of those successes outright.¡± Thacea, to my horror, had somehow managed to draw out all of her points on a magical blackboard; one that I¡¯d assumed was just a set piece up to this point. ¡°The crowds have now had ample time to draw their own conclusions on the results of the impromptu competition.¡± She continued, more bullet points forming on the blackboard along with chalk visages of our classmates. ¡°What remains is now a fight for scraps, a battlefield where words will be misappropriated and misconstrued. I believe it was Thalmin, Emma, and even you, Ilunor, who said that actions spoke louder than words. Well, that time for action has come and passed.¡± ¡°Now is a time for words from those that have lost the fight for action. And if we were to enter what is now the lion¡¯s den, we would surely spend the rest of our evening under fire, which would risk everything we had fought and gained from the day¡¯s events.¡± Thacea once more made an exceedingly solid point. And even Ilunor in his bloated arrogance took a moment to ponder that. Though it was Thalmin of all people who seemed to be in disbelief, as he turned towards Thacea, then Ilunor, with a look of genuine surprise. ¡°Did¡­ Ilunor actually say that, Thacea? I don¡¯t ever recall him¡ª¡± ¡°It matters not if I said it, Prince Thalmin!¡± Ilunor interrupted him before he could continue, somewhat flustered, his scales deepening in color instead of becoming pale like earlier. ¡°In any case, you have a point, princess.¡± He quickly turned his attention towards Thacea, disengaging from that sudden and abrupt turn to Thalmin. ¡°As a result of our planning, and my misadventures with the earthrealmer, we¡¯ve neglected to use this afternoon¡¯s precious time towards preparing for our social aims for dinner. We would be woefully under-equipped for any social engagements, and thus, we¡¯d have little to gain and all to lose.¡± The Vunerian nodded once more towards the princess, just short of a bow. ¡°It would seem as if your experiences in quiet inaction are serving us well, princess.¡± He quickly added, though I couldn¡¯t help but to narrow my eyes at that obvious backhanded compliment. ¡°What¡¯s left now for those partaking in tonight¡¯s dinner is a game for the sore losers and those that might want to color Emma¡¯s victory for their own aims.¡± Thalmin promptly entered the conversation, completely side-stepping Ilunor¡¯s egregious slights by throwing his hat into the ring. ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s more our victory, Thalmin.¡± I promptly chimed in, eliciting a cock of the wolf prince¡¯s head. ¡°Don¡¯t discount your actions in the field. You did an amazing job smoking Ping in most of the competition.¡± ¡°And do not forget your own winnings as well, Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor added. ¡°As paltry as your bets were, it was an effective statement all the same.¡± The lupinor prince didn¡¯t seem to know what to make of Ilunor¡¯s underhanded compliment, although he did regard mine with a solid nod, as Thacea took over as the group mom once again, and immediately dialed what I was beginning to refer to as ¡®room service¡¯. An action that I¡¯d seen Ilunor do many times now, but rarely out in the open. The princess moved over towards one of the many mirrors in the room, and with a wave of her hand along with a burst of mana radiation, she was immediately ¡®connected¡¯ with a room I hadn¡¯t actually visited yet via magical video-conferencing. It looked to be something similar to a restaurant¡¯s reception area, with a front desk and several staff manning their posts, all dutifully scribbling down what was probably the unending list of orders for the kitchen. ¡°How may I be of service, Princess Dilani?¡± An elven face suddenly came in to take much of the field of view. ¡°We require tonight¡¯s dinner to be delivered to our lodgings.¡± The princess replied tactfully, and with that authoritative voice that I¡¯d only seen her use with what I assumed were those ¡®beneath¡¯ her station ¡ª ¡®commoners¡¯, no doubt. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°It would be my pleasure, your highness.¡± The elf bowed deeply, before the ¡®call¡¯ abruptly ended with what I could only describe as the sound of splashing water. Following this, we were once again left to our own devices, with each and every one of us in varying states of tiredness from what was probably the most physically intense, yet practically low-stakes day of the week. ¡°Heh¡­ this has been¡­ quite a week, huh?¡± I offered, throwing out some small talk in the hopes of striking up a conversation. Whilst my attempts seemed to have initially failed, it was Ilunor who decided to respond in what I could only describe as his signature move. As he simply, and rather abruptly, skittered over towards his room, slamming the door lightly in the process. Thacea, Thalmin and I were left alone. But as was the mood of the moment, we all just sat there silently, contemplating things before the arrival of dinner. ¡­ 5 Minutes Later Dinner had arrived. And our assigned waiter for breakfast was the one to tend to this rather luxurious platter, as he pulled in what could only be described as one of those room service dinner cars, and started setting it up using a combination of his limited levitation magic, as well as the built-in mechanisms hidden within the cart. It took a solid five more minutes, but a verifiable buffet had now been set in the middle of our living room. ¡°I am at your beck and call, my lords and ladies.¡± He bowed deeply, before leaving. I immediately grabbed a few items ¡ª some fluffy bread rolls, guava, apples, and even some dried nuts ¡ª before heading towards the M-REDD for the night¡¯s experiments. ¡°M-REDD Daily Experiment Quota achieved.¡± ¡°Mmhm. Roger that. However, I just want a snack first. I¡¯m fast-tracking us into the meat phase of the M-REDD experiments. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m ending tonight without at least sinking my teeth into some fresh meat. So we¡¯ll de-manify what we know works for me first. Then, we¡¯ll have the M-REDD working on the meat later.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Accessing reference material M-REDD EXP-27-a: physical parameters for the desaturation of meat-based foodstuffs.¡± 10 Minutes Later Thacea and Thalmin had begun going through the various platters, consisting of anything and everything from whole roasts to glazed hams to what looked to be the contents of an entire aquarium, tropical fish and all, presented in a perpetual steamer. Thacea gravitated towards the fish, whilst Thalmin moved in towards the roasts. It was around this point that I began slicing what could only be described as the thinnest slice of meat imaginable. It hurt me to slice into that tender and juicy turkey-analogue in a way that barely broke into a few millimeters worth of meat. Thalmin was the first to take note of this, his head cocking my way, and his expressions growing to one of genuine concern. ¡°Emma¡­ you really needn¡¯t be so frugal. We won¡¯t be finishing this platter ourselves, so you¡¯re more than free to help yourself¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, nono! It¡¯s not like that, Thalmin.¡± I interjected with a chuckle. ¡°Trust me, if I could eat this thing whole, I¡¯d have inhaled it in a heartbeat.¡± That statement¡­ was perhaps a bit too colorful to translate, as Thalmin¡¯s expressions shifted to one of sheer shock, surprise, before following it up with a mirthful, fangy grin, ending in a hearty laugh. ¡°Spoken like a true Havenbrockian warrior, Emma Booker of Earthrealm!¡± He went so far as to get up from his seat to pat me on the back. ¡°Now tell me, I¡¯m assuming your inability to inhale a whole bird is a direct result of your¡­ artifice¡¯s shortcomings to¡­ hmm¡­ how do you say it¡­ drain it of mana?¡± Thacea had already raised a brow the first time I¡¯d used that colorful phrase, the second time however, caused her to simply sink her whole face into both hands. ¡°Correct, Thalmin.¡± I nodded affirmatively, with a smile of my own. ¡°So suffice it to say, I¡¯ll have to start off with small sample sizes first just to see how the machine fares with meat, and if local meat is even compatible with me at all.¡± ¡°My greatest condolences, Emma.¡± Thalmin spoke with a heavy heart ¡ª almost too dramatically, I could say¡­ and he¡¯d yet to have touched any hard drinks. ¡°For your sake, I hope your artifice will be able to provide you with the sustenance you need. I cannot imagine being forced to go without meat for an entire year.¡± That thought alone sent shivers down my spine as I could only nod warily in response. ¡°Yeah¡­ me too, Thalmin. Me too.¡± ¡°In any case, I suggest you try the fish next, Emma.¡± Thacea chimed in with a delightful chirp, clearly trying to lift up our spirits. ¡°It¡¯s a far more delicate experience than any land-based creature, and I quite prefer it.¡± She offered, prompting Thalmin to politely, but firmly, counter that statement. ¡°Too delicate, for my liking, princess. I¡¯m sure Emma¡¯s more of a land-meat eater, aren¡¯t you Emma?¡± They both turned towards me with expectant gazes, as I once more felt like I was at a family dinner table, with friendly banter somehow leading into me becoming a tie-breaker for an impromptu disagreement. ¡°Ehhhhh¡­?¡± I offered first with a shrug. ¡°I mean, I love snowfish and seabass.¡± I began, prompting a wide-eyed look of satisfaction from Thacea. ¡°But I also love some good old-fashioned steak, and especially fall-off-the-bone spare ribs cooked long and slow in some barbecue sauce, then paired with some of my Aunt¡¯s crab-fat fried rice¡­¡± I began trailing off, garnering a look of approval from Thalmin. ¡°So¡­ what do you prefer, Emma? Land-based meats.¡± Thalmin began. ¡°Or sea-based meats?¡± Thacea concluded. ¡°I¡­ like both equally?¡± The pair¡¯s eyes narrowed, as they turned towards one another, before facing me with an equal look of frustration. ¡°Oh come on now!¡± The banter would continue. And yet, Ilunor was still nowhere to be seen. 45 Minutes Later The dinner, filled with a flurry of back and forths, with banter on local foods and cuisines, continued in earnest. It reached a point where we¡¯d begun discussing the history, lore, and intricacies behind the dishes presented on the table, as the culinary preferences of both realms, and earth¡¯s, were exchanged with little to no filter. This was the cross-cultural information dissemination I was trained for. The CCID exercises were paying their dividends now, but in a way that wasn¡¯t exactly necessary, at least not in this particular interaction. Because instead of treating this as part of my diplomacy job¡­ I felt more at home than ever, with both Thacea and Thalmin feeling more like friends rather than just stuffy diplomats at a dinner table. ¡°So, let me get this straight.¡± I began. ¡°Your local cuisine ¡ª at least in the capital of Aetheron ¡ª is mostly seafood-based, correct?¡± I began summarizing what was in effect a whole half hour¡¯s worth of carefully retold history. ¡°That is correct, Emma.¡± Thacea nodded proudly. ¡°Whilst the royal family is not native to the capital region, as with most who call the Isle of Towers home in the contemporary era, most of our culinary arts are now inextricably tied to the seafolk who originally call the coasts home. Thus, whilst most avinor species-types aren¡¯t at all equipped for life at sea, most capital culture thrives off of the ocean¡¯s bounty provided to us by the seafolk, and as a result, we owe a great deal of gratitude to the seafolk for serving as the foundation for our contemporary cuisine.¡± ¡°On the other hand, your culinary inclinations are far less seafood-intense, Thalmin?¡± ¡°Indeed, and quite unsatisfying to the discerning Nexian palate.¡± He admitted, parodying Ilunor¡¯s Nexian attitude. ¡°Historically speaking, it¡¯s always been that way. Trade amongst the disparate Havenbrockian states was notoriously difficult. Given most of the riverways freeze over during the long winters, spices and other such commodities were a rarity, and with few settlements and kingdoms present around the regions where spices are typically found, the more colorful palates of the Nexus and Aetheron would find themselves quite disappointed by our more basic dishes that involve less intense flavors.¡± He surmised. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t consider that a negative, Thalmin. If anything, working with fewer ingredients means you get to focus on the fundamental flavors; extracting what you have on hand and focusing instead on the quality and intrinsic flavor of your meat and produce.¡± This garnered a smile from the lupinor as he nodded in response. ¡°You definitely get it, Emma. But yes, I am quite¡­ surprised, even though I shouldn¡¯t be, at the sheer amount of¡­ as you put it, fusion dishes in your realm, Emma.¡± ¡°Fusion dishes and their popularity as a whole specific subset categorized in the culinary arts has long been a thing in my world.¡± I quickly added. ¡°It was inevitable, a result of both trade and the movement of people through the interconnectedness of my world.¡± ¡°A historical trend we have in common, Emma.¡± Thacea nodded. ¡°It was the extraordinary levels of interconnectivity of Aetheronrealmers, granted via flight, that perpetuated so much of your cross-cultural fusion dishes, correct?¡± Thalmin inquired. ¡°Indeed. And I¡¯m assuming the same can be said for earthrealm, especially given the¡­ lengths to which Emma¡¯s people have pushed for interconnectivity through various artifices aimed to bridge the physical gap.¡± ¡°Yeah! That¡¯s definitely part of it. The world becoming smaller does contribute a lot towards that sort of thing.¡± I replied with a jovial smile, one that turned to concern as I once more noticed a lack of any counterpoints made throughout this generally positive conversation. ¡°Ilunor¡¯s been gone for way too long.¡± I quickly noted, diverting the conversation, prompting a perk of both Thacea and Thalmin¡¯s brows. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have to go check up on Ilunor, this is completely out of character for him and I need to see if he¡¯s alright.¡± I spoke as I got up, walking over to Ilunor¡¯s room, before knocking hard on his door. ¡°Ilunor, are you alright in there?¡± I hollered. Yet there was no response. ¡°Ilunor? Come on now, I¡¯m getting worried.¡± I continued, my mind fixated on the issue of the library and curses from our earlier conversation. Still, there was no response. It was around this time that Thalmin got up, reaching for the door, before opening it with a solid shunt. The scene we were greeted with¡­ was something I wasn¡¯t at all expecting. In front of me¡­ was a small pile of gold coins that had collapsed in on itself, forming a sort of nest of gold coins. Within that nest, was the Vunerian, loafing atop of the gold, with dilated pupils and an expression that I¡¯d yet to have seen from him. Pure and unfettered bliss. It took a solid few seconds before he noticed us, and even then he barely even bothered to get up, merely tilting his head over from his supine state. ¡°Ilunor¡­¡± I muttered out. ¡°What the heck is all of this?¡± ¡°Hmmph¡­ the earthrealmer has the gall to ask what this is.¡± He spoke self-satisfyingly to himself more than anything. ¡°Listen, we were starting to get worried, alright? The least you could do is tell us why you haven¡¯t joined us for dinner and exactly what¡¯s going on¡ª¡± ¡°I am rolling, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm.¡± He stated smugly and a matter of factly. ¡°That¡¯s what all of this is. Or is it the sheer glut of gold that prompted the shock and confusion, hmm?¡± He shot back with a self-satisfied chuckle. ¡°No, not really.¡± I answered bluntly. ¡°I was just worried.¡± ¡°Trying to hide your shock and awe at this flagrant display of wealth is quite unbecoming of you, earthrealmer.¡± He continued, his attitude having taken on a slight Nexian edge, as it seemed as if the spoils of victory were getting to his head. ¡°Come now, there¡¯s no need to restrain yourself. We can all be frank with each other, after all. For I know that even with all of the audacious manaless achievements of your realm, that one thing remains the same across all adjacent realms¡­ the inability to amass gold and other precious metals, to the scale of ubiquity seen in the Nexus.¡± ¡°All of this¡ª¡± The mock dragon emphasized by picking up a handful of coins and letting them slip through his fingers with satisfying clinks. ¡°¡ªis likely far from even your reach.¡± He managed out, gesturing at all of the gold around him, eliciting not even an ounce of envy from my end as I simply shrugged. ¡°My answer still stands, Ilunor. No, not really.¡± I double-downed. This seemed to have gotten the Vunerian¡¯s attention, as he began kicking at the pile of gold for traction, causing a small avalanche of gold coins to come clinking down onto the solid hardwood floors beneath him. It was at that point that I reached for my pouch, one that had yet to have been accessed prior to this point, grabbing what looked to be a cylindrical candy dispenser. However instead of candy, it was instead filled to the brim with my mission-assigned barter material. ¡°Bluffing is quite unbecoming of¡ª¡± Plink! I flicked a single gold coin in the Vunerian¡¯s direction, as it landed directly on his forehead, causing him to yelp and hiss in response. ¡°Ow! What is the meaning behind this assault?!¡± I merely sighed in response, pointing down towards a lone gold piece that stood out amongst the other pieces of gold in his little pile. The Vunerian, to his credit, managed to pick it out from the shiny crowd rather quickly, as he immediately went to inspect it, even going so far as to grab a small monocle with which to scrutinize it. ¡°Hmmph. This is dead gold, earthrealmer. You cannot impress me with this garbage.¡± He chided back, before flicking the gold back towards my direction. ¡°Dead¡­ gold?¡± I offered with a cock of my head. ¡°Yes, dead. Meaning it is merely gold as a mere metal. Gold that has yet to have been attuned by the Crown. Gold that is, in a sense, worthless.¡± Ilunor explained, prompting a lightbulb to suddenly light up in my head. ¡°Your magic makes it so that you¡¯re able to transmute stuff, I imagine.¡± I surmised. ¡°As in, a lead-into-gold sorta deal.¡± ¡°Lead into gold is such a trite example, but yes, earthrealmer. Transmutation, and such alchemical ends, are an age-old and highly mature field of study. This has forced gold, in spite of its innately intoxicating appeal, to have completely lost its luster. For any well-read mage can conjure up a steady supply of gold, provided enough mana is available, and enough alchemical materials are on hand.¡± ¡°So only gold that¡¯s been minted¡­ or in this case, ¡®attuned¡¯, is valuable. Since gold itself has become¡­ effectively worthless as it¡¯s now so readily abundant.¡± I concluded. ¡°Precisely, Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor nodded. ¡°You catch on much quicker than I expected.¡± ¡°Yeah, no, this is Basic Economics Scarcity Stuff 101. Besides, we already went through this ourselves.¡± ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡°Excuse me?¡± Chapter 96: The Wealth Cube The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Thalmin and Ilunor¡¯s Dorm. Local Time: 1900 Hours. Emma ¡°Excuse me?¡± Ilunor¡¯s words echoed throughout the room, his disbelief resonating with a sharp trill. The Vunerian met my gaze with a wide-eyed disbelief, prompting me to cut to the chase, and to sharpen the needle poised to burst his Nexian-grade ego-bubble. ¡°It would seem as if we both went through a similar paradigm-shift event, Ilunor. A point in which this shiny yellow metal just finally stopped holding its own value. A fundamental point of divergence in which it lost its ability to hold its own¡­ weight in gold.¡± I reiterated, announcing those words loud and clear for the Vunerian, hoping that the EVI was able to translate that bad attempt at humor to something at least discernable in High-Nexian. ¡°Gold as it currently stands, has lost its historical value. It¡¯s no longer the rare be-all and end-all metal. It has, using your own words, lost its luster.¡± Thalmin had finally returned with Thacea just as I¡¯d finished making that bold statement, the prince seemingly adamant on making this entire exchange one which all parties were privy to. Ilunor didn¡¯t pay them mind however, as his gaze was locked onto me, his features contorting into one of genuine disbelief, before finding itself back in a signature look of incredulous scrutiny. ¡°You¡¯re bluffing.¡± He retorted. ¡°There is no means for an adjacent realm, for any realm other than the Nexus, to have both discovered and matured the art of pinnacle-transmutation.¡± I raised a brow at this, cocking my head to overcome my emoting handicap. ¡°Pinnacle-transmutation?¡± ¡°The alchemical art of transmuting one form of inexpensive and readily-available matter, into an otherwise rare form of matter, using mana and other mana-based materials as a catalyst.¡± The blue thing helpfully clarified. This prompted me to feign a moment of thought, bringing my fingers up to my chin. ¡°You know what Ilunor, you¡¯re right!¡± I nodded, eliciting a smarmy grin from the deluxe kobold. ¡°We don¡¯t have magical transmutation, at least not in the way that you think, let alone your whole lead-into-gold style magical alchemy.¡± I quickly expanded, garnering more self-satisfied looks from the Vunerian; as he reached that point of peak smugness. ¡°But we didn¡¯t really need it.¡± I clarified, pulling the rug right from underneath the Vunerian. ¡°Moreover, it didn¡¯t stop us from achieving the same state of precious metal devaluation that you went through.¡± ¡°Oh dear Majesty, not this again¡­¡± He responded emphatically, before diving back into the thick of the conversation. ¡°There exists only two means of acquiring gold.¡± The Vunerian snarled out. ¡°One ¡ª through brute force, by mining into the earth itself and laboriously collecting this beautiful, shiny, irresistible metal.¡± He almost went into a sort of trance for a moment there, but managed to pull back before continuing unabated. ¡°Two ¡ª by transmutation. The latter is what has caused gold to become so readily abundant, so¡­ unexpectedly worthless. And since you admit to lacking the latter¡­ are you expecting me to believe that you have achieved our current state of abundance through the former?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I replied immediately, and a matter of factly. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m hoping you¡¯ll believe, because that¡¯s exactly what happened. Through good old fashioned sheer brute force¡­ or more specifically, by expanding our operations to scales and extents never before seen ¡ª we turned gold from an object of indescribable value, to a chunk of pretty yellow metal.¡± I took a moment to let that sink in, as my mind went to ponder a second, more technical talking point. ¡®I mean, we technically have ¡®transmutation¡¯, or at least, a sci-tech equivalent of it¡­ but it¡¯s just woefully impractical and more of a gimmick compared to the efficiency harvesting space-rocks and dwarf planetoids.¡¯ I decided it was probably best to skip that talking point for now, at least, until a foundation could be built to discuss that can of worms. A few seconds of silence punctuated my first point, as it was clear Ilunor was taking the time to actively consider it. ¡°And I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re going to claim to have brute-forced the accumulation of metals, both precious and utilitarian, from the surface of your world; to the point of complete exhaustion?¡± The Vunerian shot back in an almost rhetorical way through a desperate chuckle. Though that series of dismissive laughs was barely able to hide the fear which underpinned it. A fear which was blatantly obvious from the furrowing of his brow ridges, and the narrowing of his slitted pupils. A fear that this line of questioning would lead to an answer he simply didn¡¯t want to hear. A fear which was reflected even in the eyes of both Thacea and Thalmin. A fear¡­ that would come to pass with a single-worded answer. ¡°Yes.¡± I answered simply. Color once more drained from the Vunerian¡¯s face, as he seemed to almost lose his footing atop of his nest of gold. It was at that point that he broke his gaze, his expressions shifting from tentative disbelief, to frustration, before landing back on what I was beginning to call his resting Nexus-face ¡ª a look of superiority that resulted from either active denial, or a root error in fundamental systemic incongruency. ¡°Alright then.¡± He retorted, sarcasm oozing through each and every syllable. ¡°Let¡¯s suppose this is all well and true. Where is your gold? Where is your silver? If you truly have broken the shackles of earthly scarcity, then surely you must have more!¡± He continued, as he maneuvered himself through the gold pile, and back onto solid ground. Eventually, he managed to find the gold he¡¯d plinked in my general direction, holding it high above his head. ¡°I am willing to entertain your ridiculous claims. So in lieu of any long-winded displays, show me just how much your people have given you as instruments of trade and barter for this journey. Because this¡ª¡± He paused, waving the gold coin around. ¡°¡ªis a pittance for any self-respecting newrealmer hoping to forge relations.¡± I took a moment to quickly grab the cylindrical precious-materials dispenser (PMD), holding the hefty oversized candy dispenser in my hands for a moment, before lobbing it over towards the Vunerian. The deluxe kobold managed to snatch it like a pro, as he examined the rather simple device, eyeing it from every possible angle. It didn¡¯t take him long to figure out how it worked, as those greedy little grabby-hands found their way towards the bottom ¡®slot¡¯, pinching it sideways, resulting in a satisfying ¡ª CHA-CHING! ¡ª reminiscent of ultra-vintage cash registers; something the engineers back at the IAS claimed wasn¡¯t intentional. Though I had my own reservations on that. A single silver coin, exactly one troy ounce in weight, was gently ejected from the unassuming cylindrical device. On it, was the Greater United Nations¡¯ seal sans its signature fourteen stars, flanked by raised lettering which read ¡®Greater United Nations - Peace and Prosperity for All¡¯. Flipping the coin to the other side, the Vunerian would find the missing fourteen stars, which was then flanked by a series of smaller raised lettering which read ¡®Minted Under Special Order 32-7. FOR EXCLUSIVE USE IN DIPLOMATIC MISSIONS¡¯. The Vunerian took a few careful moments to regard the coin, flipping it through his fingers, before simply letting it fall to the floor with a satisfying clink! ¡°That¡¯s disrespectful, Ilunor.¡± Thalmin uttered with a dulcet growl, which Ilunor simply ignored as he pressed onwards. CHA-CHING! Came another silver coin. CHA-CHING! Then another. CHA-CHING! Then another. CHA-CHING! And another. CHA-CHING! The Vunerian kept clicking that little mechanical button, mashing it to the point where the noises all just blended together, until he finally made it through the copper and silver, finally arriving into the gold section of the tube. He once more went through the same motions, twirling the innocuous shiny object in his fingers, before simply dropping it. ¡°Dead¡­ and uninspired.¡± He added, probably referring to the same relief patterns on either side of the coin. And so, the pattern continued, as he kept mashing that button, until the final gold coin clinked satisfyingly onto the small pile made by his little outburst. But gold and silver wasn¡¯t all that was in there. As he curiously pressed the button once more¡ª CHA-CHING! ¡ªto reveal what appeared to be just another silver coin, albeit slightly smaller, landing on the palm of his hand. The formerly unimpressed Vunerian¡¯s expressions visibly changed at that coin, as his face quickly contorted from one of passive indifference, to abrupt attentiveness. For starters, he began raising his hand up and down, as if ¡®weighing¡¯ the thing by feeling alone. Next, he picked up one of the silver coins that¡¯d accumulated by his feet, as he held both side by side, noting just how marginally larger the silver was compared to this similarly gray and shiny coin. His eyes widened after that, as he dropped the silver coin, and immediately reached for his monocle. Seconds passed, as he spent nearly a minute inspecting every nook and cranny of the identically-minted coin. It was only after a minute that he finally dropped his monocle. However, instead of simply dropping the coin to the floor as he¡¯d done to the rest of them, he raised it up towards his maw, poised to bite it instead. The deluxe kobold started by attempting to sink one of his many sharp teeth into the coin, before devolving into outright nibbling on it, as if attempting to gnaw out some shavings from it. It was after a few seconds of these motions, that he did something I hadn¡¯t ever anticipated from him. He went full gremlin mode. In a single swift motion, the deluxe kobold simply shoved the coin straight into his maw. ¡°Ilunor, what are you¡ª¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ALERT: EXTERNAL TEMPERATURES EXCEEDING SAFE LEVELS. 400¡­ 725¡­ 997¡­ 1227 DEGREES CELSIUS. Without warning, flames erupted from his maw, the likes of which prompted Thacea to intervene by covering our side of the room in a small blanket of snow, courtesy of her snow-princess powers and the series of little snow-clouds that¡¯d formed just over top of each of us. This went on for a solid half a minute, before he finally relented, huffing and puffing all the while, as he eventually spat out the coin; the still-intact disc sizzled and clinked as it eventually came to a rest on the stone floor. Silence dominated the room after that whole stunt. Thalmin however, would be the first to break that silence, reiterating a former point I¡¯d made. ¡°Ilunor, what in ancestors¡¯ and spirits¡¯ names are you doing?!¡± He shouted out. Surprisingly, however, Ilunor didn¡¯t respond. Not with a dismissive remark, nor with a coy retort. Instead, he simply remained silent, his eyes as wide as dinner plates as he weakly and warily knelt down to pick up the coin; a surge of mana radiation indicating that he¡¯d cooled it down quickly prior to touching it. ¡°This isn¡¯t silver.¡± He noted bluntly, turning towards Thalmin first. ¡°So what if it isn¡¯t silver? What the hell did you do all of that for¡ª¡± ¡°This is platinum.¡± He began, his voice shaky and in tentative disbelief. ¡°Pure platinum, with no impurities¡­ sans the alloys necessary to strengthen the soft metal.¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. It was at that point that Thacea and Thalmin, in that order, started to register something about Ilunor¡¯s revelation. Though it hadn¡¯t clicked with me just yet. ¡°Yeah, so, can you not transmute platinum or something? You were so big and mighty just a second ago when you were going on about the whole ¡ª breaking the shackles of earthly scarcity ¡ª thing. So what¡¯s with this reaction?¡± I shot back. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ not so much about the platinum itself, Emma.¡± Thacea spoke up, taking over from the still-dazed Ilunor. ¡°Platinum, along with most rare metals in existence, are all capable of being alchemically transmuted, and thus are worthless until attuned. However what surprises us, and Ilunor in particular, is the fact that you even have platinum at all. This is because historically speaking, it is rare to find a newrealm that utilizes platinum as a form of currency or a store of wealth, prior to the adoption of pinnacle-transmutation. Some might not even recognize it as a distinct form of metal, whilst most might simply find the traditional process of refinement too much of a hassle, thereby disregarding it outright due to the difficulties involved.¡± ¡°However, those that do, process it in limited quantities; relegating it to decoration and jewelry, or a relatively rare store of wealth. This leaves gold, copper, silver, and electrum as the typical forms of currency in most adjacent realms prior to Nexian reformations.¡± Thalmin promptly added, giving Thacea a nod as they tag-teamed this impromptu explanation. ¡°All of this is to say, Emma, that your possession of minted platinum, runs counter to typical conventions.¡± Thacea promptly surmised. ¡°And it serves only to reinforce your claims of having somehow achieved a state of post-shackling, without Nexian intervention.¡± The lupinor prince added with a bewildered, yet excitable expression. A small grin suddenly formed across my face, as I knelt down to pick up the fallen coins, and in the process snatched the PMD from the Vunerian. ¡°This is not to say it isn¡¯t unheard of.¡± Ilunor attempted to reason. ¡°This is¡­ this is just unprecedented, clearly just¡­ a one-off statement of wealth.¡± He stammered out, before finally collecting himself. ¡°So? Is that all you have, earthrealmer? I admit, this¡­ rather audacious display of wealth is certainly one thing, but for an adjacent realm, this merely places you as a cut above the rest. Nothing truly remarkable, nothing that could indicate you¡¯ve achieved earthly post-shackling, as Prince Thalmin so clearly wishes to advocate¡ª¡± ¡°How about I just skip the pleasantries and show you the treasury, Ilunor?¡± I offered with a grin. ¡°Excuse me?¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Thalmin and Ilunor¡¯s Dorm. Local Time: 1900 Hours. Ilunor The earthrealmer was bluffing. I was sure of it. The platinum coins were a ruse, a clever attempt at making me assume the unassumable. The potential that they could truly be¡­ no. That was impossible. For in spite of their¡­ manaless miracles, there was one miracle that simply could not be replicated without the aid of magic, or in this case, alchemy ¡ª the unshackling of earthly binds. It was a known fact that every adjacent realm that has ever come into contact with the Nexus, lacked Nexus-grade alchemy, or alchemical magics altogether. They might have had some form of transmutation, yes. They might even have some form of intermediate alchemy. But none could match the purity of Nexian transmutations, let alone perfecting the art of pinnacle transmutations. It was because of this that the Nexus stood alone as the only realm to have broken those earthly binds. Indeed, this meant that only the Nexus had crossed that threshold, where unattuned gold, dead gold, could be considered as worthless as iron or dirt. And indeed, this meant none could resist the final nail in the coffin that came with all Nexian Reformations ¡ª the influx of worthless wealth, and the complete devaluation of what gold, silver, copper, or whatever may be present in their coffers. For even the wealthiest of adjacent realms buckled and crumbled upon this aspect of the Nexian reformation. As even the mightiest of ¡®Emperors¡¯ and ¡®Kings¡¯ could not operate, if the lifeblood of economic exchange was rendered null and void. The shock alone managed to kill empires. The long term effects of which, meant that only by adopting Attuned coins, were they able to operate as they once did. Though this tactic was most often employed if the knee had yet to be bent. Most rulers however, understood the threat of this bloodless war. And as such, most acquiesced long before it could even be a possibility¡­ and were rewarded handsomely for it. Perhaps this is why the earthrealmer wished to hold her ground, as she intended on bluffing her way out of this trap. Perhaps she understood, after my earlier statements, that only by bluffing would she be able to stand toe to toe with the monolith that was the Nexus¡¯ treasury. Perhaps this was why she was so adamant to stand toe to toe with a dragon, when she could scarcely be considered a kobold.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea¡¯s Dorm. Local Time: 1920 Hours. Emma We¡¯d shuffled wordlessly towards my dorm, arriving at one of the few crates I¡¯d left untouched, unpacked, and outside of the tent. ¡°I understand your hesitation to believe my claims, Ilunor.¡± I began. ¡°However, circling back to what you said before¡­ you wanted to see just how much my people have provided me as instruments for trade and barter, yes?¡± The Vunerian refused to respond, simply standing there with both of his arms crossed, monocle at the ready. I took this as an opportunity to move towards the back of the crate, my hand poised for a dramatic flourish. ¡°Perhaps this is more what you had in mind?¡± With a satisfying click, I flicked open the crate¡¯s latches, pneumatic hisses signaling the equalization of pressure as all sides of the cube fell apart to reveal what to the average contemporary observer would seem akin to a solid mass of industrial-grade metals¡­ but to most in human history, would be more akin to a representation of their most coveted desires ¡ª a disgustingly flagrant display of wealth, in the most innocuous of forms. A solid, hulking, cuboid mass of gold. But that was only accounting for what was on the surface. A closer inspection would reveal a series of hairline seams seemingly overlaid atop of this glistening cube, betraying the fact that this seemingly unbreakable aurous monolith was in fact not a solid unibody object. Instead, it consisted of rows and columns, of stacks upon stacks of bricks which were roughly equivalent to the old ¡®good delivery¡¯ bar standard ¡ª modified following multiple UN resolutions on commodities standardization to meet new universal criteria. The most notable changes, being its size and dimensions, which deviated from the archetypical trapezoidal shape, to one that now more resembled a simple brick. The Vunerian¡¯s height barely put him at eye-level with the top of the cube, so as he approached, the factory-polish sheen of the formerly precious metal managed to act almost like a mirror, betraying his expressions to Thacea and Thalmin who stood behind him. The former¡¯s expression was one of tentative disbelief. Whilst the latter pair¡¯s, was a collective sense of sheer awe. No one uttered a single word. So I took that as my cue to move on. I slowly began rotating the cube on the provided multi-axial platform, revealing that the solid wall of gold was only one of the faces to what I dubbed the wealth cube. Indeed, as it slowly spun on its axis, it would soon reveal an entire face containing bricks with a distinct silverish sheen. Ilunor approached even closer at this point, putting barely a foot of space between himself and the giant rotating cube of metal. ¡°Ilunor, you might not want to come so close just in case something happens and it falls on¡ª¡± ¡°Quiet!¡± He hissed, before managing to recompose himself. ¡°Just. Keep. Going.¡± I acquiesced with a nod, continuing the unnecessarily dramatic spin as we eventually went past silver, and onto a face consisting of more than a single metal. The Vunerian, and indeed both Thacea and Thalmin, raised a brow at this face of the wealth cube consisting of the less common utilitarian metals, from tungsten to copper, to iridium and titanium ¡ª practically every other metal that could be reliably stored in the iconic commodities-standards brick-form. Yet it was the last of the faces of this wealth cube that I was more interested in showing, given the immediate ramifications. The platinum face. So as we crested that multi-colored face, entering the realm of a literal wall of platinum, I took extra care to take note of each and every one of the gang¡¯s reactions. Starting with Ilunor, who at this point, was practically right up against the wall of platinum, his hands trembling as he attempted to ¡®inspect¡¯ it using his monocle; bursts of mana radiation punctuated each and every movement he made with it. His formerly cocky features slowly betrayed him, as that facade of Nexian exceptionalism was slowly chipped away with each passing burst of mana radiation. Thacea, however, had managed to regain her composure to the point of once more regaining her natural serenity. Whilst Thalmin went in the completely opposite direction¡­ The wolf was now grinning ear-to-ear, holding short of a cackle as he observed not just Ilunor¡¯s reactions, but the wealth cube itself with glee. This whole scene, and the vastly divergent reactions between Thalmin and Ilunor managed to pique my curiosity, overpowering my desire to continue the game of ones-upmanship with the Vunerian. ¡°Is this evidence enough for you, Ilunor?¡± I asked, wishing to end the boasting game, as I stood there ready to set the record straight. ¡°This should not be possible.¡± He muttered out, reaching out a hand to touch the reflective wall. ¡°Like I said, we¡¯ve reached the same state of abundance.¡± I shrugged. ¡°I know it¡¯s hard to accept, but it shouldn¡¯t feel like that much of a surprise for you, right? I mean, you can literally transmute as much platinum if you wanted to. Meanwhile, my realm manages to mine up and process as much platinum, gold, silver, copper, and whatever other metals there are for our machines to gobble up to the point of excess. So I guess we¡¯re equals in that sense?¡± The Vunerian attempted to form something of a coherent response to that, but ended up simply having his words clogging up his throat. It was Thalmin who finally broke the silence however, as he walked over to Ilunor, and myself, before placing both of his hands on our shoulders. ¡°One final question before I pull the words right out of Ilunor¡¯s mouth, Emma.¡± He began. ¡°Yes, Thalmin?¡± ¡°All of this¡ª¡± He gestured towards the wealth cube. ¡°¡ªis this truly as abundant as you claim it to be in your realm?¡± ¡°Yup.¡± I nodded. ¡°Now, I know that there¡¯ll be questions about just how transactions are made and how the economy functions in such a state, but please understand that like, we already got rid of the gold standard and the peg of currency to gold like¡­ at least a millennium ago. We also experimented with fiat currency for centuries after that, then, following that, we implemented a form of UBI after automation started buckling the traditional economic models, and we doubled down after we managed to crack mass-resource gathering from¡ª¡± ¡®Space-based industries.¡¯ ¡°¡ªthe expansion of our resource gathering efforts.¡± I paused, before backtracking a bit, as Thalmin¡¯s expressions started growing from supportive vigor to tentative confusion. ¡°In any case, yes, Thalmin. The answer is yes.¡± The lupinor¡¯s grin returned following that, as he let out a slow series of chuckles, before evolving into an outright cackle as he slapped the wealth cube hard. Hard enough that I felt the pain of that impact. ¡°Well then Emma Booker of Earthrealm, I congratulate you on your immunity to one of the apocalyptic dragons of the Nexian Reformations.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± I responded reflexively, before suddenly¡­ it clicked. My eyes locked with Thacea, then Ilunor, then Thalmin, before going back to Thacea as the avinor gave me a resolute nod. ¡°I should¡¯ve known from the ffffricking beginning.¡± I managed out with a heavy breath. ¡°It¡¯s so obvious now in retrospect.¡± Both Thacea and Thalmin nodded affirmatively, prompting me to let out another breath. ¡°So that¡¯s part of their induction game? Inundating your realms with worthless rare metals, devaluing your treasuries, and then forcing you to adopt their attuned minted currency or what have you?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the abridged version of events, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged. ¡°But it is, in effect, the essence of one of the apocalyptic dragons of the Nexian Reformations, as Thalmin has so colorfully described. If what you say is true, Emma¡­ then this places your realm, as perhaps the first in recorded history, to have achieved¡­ resource parity with that of the Nexus.¡± ¡°Resource parity, upon first contact at that!¡± Thalmin eagerly added. That statement, both of their statements¡­ managed to hit me hard. What had begun as a simple exercise in proving the Vunerian wrong, had quickly evolved into an exercise in determining the relative material and resource potential of our two polities. The fact that the Nexus was heavily abundant in raw and processed resources was not only a surprise, but a hard-hitting wakeup call. The realization that it¡¯d used its excess resources as a part of its domination strategy shouldn¡¯t have surprised me¡­ but hearing it laid out like this was still shocking all the same. ¡°And hasn¡¯t anyone ever tried attuning their own coins?¡± I promptly asked the group. ¡°As in, forgery?¡± Thalmin shot back. ¡°I guess it would be forgery in a sense wouldn''t it? Since attunement is just fancy mana minting?¡± ¡°Many have tried, Emma.¡± Thacea answered. ¡°However, the process of Nexian attunement is one that has been fine-tuned over the course of millennia. There are multiple layers to the Crown¡¯s attunement process, many of which line up with their mechanisms of control. First, there is raw attunement, which is the process of imbuing the gold itself with mana, then there is the individual binding every coin to the Crown Treasury¡¯s Scroll of Coin, finally there is the work of Artisan-Mages, whose entire careers are based around the personalized creation of attuned coins, each of which are bound to their signature and hold a particular unique quality bound to the artisan. These mechanisms of control make it so that every attuned coin is registered and tracked, and is always at threat of being recalled following the death of the Artisan-Mage.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, hold up for a moment.¡± I raised both hands to stop Thacea¡¯s informative rambles. ¡°These are pretty advanced security features for gold coins.¡± I offered, as the preconceptions of a fantasy-medieval trade system was shattered, instead replaced with what appeared to be a somewhat robust financial system. ¡°As I¡¯ve said, Emma. These are mechanisms of control.¡± Thacea reiterated. ¡°Right, right.¡± I nodded, stowing away any specific questions on the Nexian attunement system for now, instead opting to finally close this point of contention with the Vunerian. ¡°I guess that means we¡¯re even here then.¡± I offered Ilunor. To which the Vunerian finally perked up, but still refused to voice a single response. This prompted me to inch forwards towards the Vunerian, before leaning against the cube of wealth. ¡°This means that the Nexus might find it to be in their best interests to practice diplomacy with a bit more tact, because its usual tricks are no longer a viable strategy¡­ nor was it ever an acceptable strategy¡­ but I digress. What I¡¯m trying to say here, Ilunor, is that this is the first time where the Nexus is going to have to interact with someone who matches its potential. At least as it pertains to the resource department.¡± ¡®We¡¯re tied, at least, in the basic resource and economic war front. You can¡¯t just pour your dead gold in our faces, nor can we pump out attuned gold your way.¡¯ I quickly thought to myself. Whether it was from his overexertion at having failed to create a platinum forge in his maw, or the shock of this entire reveal, the Vunerian seemed to have finally reached his limits¡­ as he outright fainted in front of us, dropping into a heaping pile of blue lizard. Chapter 97: Mining Off Camera The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea¡¯s Dorm. Local Time: 1920 Hours. Thacea When the Vunerian first revealed to me that Emma was in possession of platinum, a reflexive part of my psyche was put into shock. However, it would only take a scant few moments before that shock quickly transitioned into tentative understanding, before evolving further into an outright realization of the truth. The truth that there was without a shadow of a doubt, parity, as it pertained to the material abundance of both realms. Memories from that first day of our private interactions were brought forth, and it was in those memories that I recalled my first glimpses into the earthrealmer¡¯s manaless world. I recalled the images of Earthrealm¡¯s forges, advancing through the ages, developing without the aid of mana, yet increasing in size, scale, and intricacy with each passing era. I recalled the images of iron seas and lakes of steel, flowing from crucibles spanning the height and width of entire smithies. I recalled the scale of the foundries in which these crucibles were housed, buildings and structures of titanic proportions, of which only those like the crownlands could rival. I recalled how scale and intricacy culminated in the armor that defied all reason, cladding a woman whose personality and spirit further defied that reason with each and every passing breath. And it was with these recollections that I realized¡­ that the forging and procurement of platinum wasn¡¯t ever a question of possibility for earthrealm, nor was it indicative of their capabilities¡­ but rather, the question was just how much they could procure. So while Ilunor and Thalmin continued to be enraptured by the physical proof of earthrealm¡¯s advanced metallurgical prowess, my suspicions continued to diverge into other aspects of Emma¡¯s claims. Ilunor was right in ascertaining that material abundance and the state of earthen post-shackling from the value of precious metals could only be derived by one of two means ¡ª pinnacle transmutation, and brute force procurement. So given the self-admitted impossibility of the former by Emma, this left only the latter as the sole viable option. This, however, was where my point of contention began. As despite the physical proof of the wall of platinum clearly hinting at abundance, this form of abundance¡­ was fleeting. A realm was, after all, finite in nature. Which meant that after all the mines had been dug up, and after the world itself had become hollowed out, what remains is a barrier of scarcity which no civilization can ever truly cross. There was only one exception to this functional limit on growth, and that was with the development of pinnacle transmutation, and the Nexus¡¯ infinitely expanding farlands. This meant that Emma¡¯s claims of parity could be cast into doubt. At least, it would have been for both Thalmin and Ilunor, if I were to have brought it up outright. Because unlike the pair, I was privy to the sky-shattering realizations that had first been presented within the library, and a second time in Emma¡¯s private sight-seer viewing. These insights into what is for all intents and purposes, ostensibly a manaless Nexus. My mind thus wandered towards the tail-end of Emma and Ilunor¡¯s back and forths, as my imagination took a firm hold, and my thoughts were left to wander the ramifications of all of this information. Perhaps the truth of abundance lies somewhere amidst the oceans of stars. Perhaps the key to material abundance without the aid of pinnacle transmutation, was in breaching the skies to reach the void. Perhaps our ancestors¡¯ efforts should have been invested in that which was just in reach, and not in the path that led us towards the regrettable state of affairs we now found ourselves in. Perhaps¡­ a private conversation was needed, to put to rest this question of material parity once and for all.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea¡¯s Dorm. Local Time: 1920 Hours. Emma Ilunor¡¯s passed-out body was quickly lifted into the arms of the princely wolf, whose reactions to the whole affair was self-explanatory. ¡°Huh.¡± The wolf prince emoted with a cock of his head. ¡°For how much he eats, he weighs less than a heavy claymore.¡± Thalmin jabbed with a cackle of facetious intent. ¡°In any case, Emma, I believe it would be prudent if you caught up on some rest. I¡¯ll see to the Vunerian myself, you¡¯ve been through enough today as is. A day of victory is to be enjoyed, not to be bothered by the burden of others, not especially a troublesome associate.¡± ¡°Thanks Thalmin.¡± I nodded gratefully. ¡°The pleasure is all mine, Emma.¡± He nodded back, as he effortlessly began walking towards the door with Ilunor in tow, leaving with a final few words. ¡°See you tomorrow then. Hopefully the trip to Elaseer should prove to be uneventful.¡± A swift wave marked the end of that little episode with the Vunerian, and following a light slam of the door, I allowed myself a loud, tired sigh. I instinctively followed the commands of my exhausted body, moving over towards the reinforced couch like a zombie, before plopping down with the force of a train wreck. I promptly just laid there, sprawling out in the process. Throughout all of this however, Thacea had remained¡­ surprisingly silent. Though that silence wouldn¡¯t remain for long, as the princess approached the couch, and sat opposite of me with courtly tact. ¡°Emma.¡± She began, her tone of voice once more locking in to that ¡®serious talk¡¯ vibe. ¡°I have some further questions I¡¯d like to ask, if I may?¡± ¡°Is this about the resource parity situation?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She nodded. ¡°Unless, of course, you wish to rest first and¡ª¡± ¡°Nono! I¡¯m fine. Please, fire away!¡± I quickly interjected, encouraging the avinor to continue. ¡°As you wish.¡± She dipped her head before continuing. ¡°Whilst the other two are very much still in shock as a result of the reveal of your¡­ treasury¡­ a thought has occurred to me which I believe is best addressed in private.¡± The princess began, her vagueness piquing my interest. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine anything about the whole situation that might require a private discussion.¡± I blurted out without much thought, eliciting a look that I could only describe as ¡®are you serious?¡¯ from the likes of Thacea. ¡°I had purposefully refrained from broaching this topic, out of respect for your narrative, as I assumed you had intentionally withheld addressing the matter of exactly what and from where your post-shackling abundance is derived from.¡± Thacea responded politely, though that politeness hid a level of blunt incredulity that even I could detect. ¡°At least, I assume this to be a matter of purposeful omission on your part.¡± That reveal blindsided me, as I was hit face-first with Thacea¡¯s astuteness in the face of what was effectively a paradigm altering series of revelations. The princess¡¯ calm collectedness had already impressed me by this point, but it was these little moments that just really sealed my respect for her capabilities. I could only hope to match it. ¡°Oh! That topic. Yeah erm¡­ you¡¯re right on the money with that one, Thacea.¡± I admitted with a respectful dip of my head. ¡°I appreciate the thoughtfulness there.¡± ¡°The pleasure is all mine, Emma. This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve offered conversational courtesy via absentia. And given the subject being broached, I understand the¡­ hesitancy in addressing such matters.¡± The princess returned the nod. ¡°Though I admit, I was only able to reach the conclusion that I did by combining the pieces of a grander puzzle.¡± That vague statement elicited yet another cock of my head, which only prompted Thacea to continue further. ¡°The question of platinum as an indicator for your realm¡¯s advancement was never a matter of concern to me. Our discussions on the topic of metallurgy, stemming from the very first glimpses you provided me of your realm, was proof enough of your people¡¯s competency within the realm of metallurgy. Moreover, it is the matter of brute-force procurement that lies at the heart of my issues with your claims, Emma. The fact of the matter is, even with your advanced processing capabilities, you remain shackled by the very limitation that all realms face. A limitation that pinnacle transmutation addresses ¡ª the functional limit of a realm¡¯s material resources.¡± The princess surmised, her eyes never once wavering, her piercing gaze locking on to my own with a mix of disbelief and burning curiosity. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s¡­ actually a point that I was expecting one of you to bring up eventually.¡± I admitted, reaching for the back of my head, but once again, only bonking it in the process. ¡°It is, in fact, a rather large point of contention once the shock of your treasury wears off.¡± The princess acknowledged. ¡°But in any case, my point of contention lies with this functional impasse, Emma. Logically speaking, post-shackling is a state which can only exist if and when the precious metal in question is truly abundant. By that definition, a single realm can never truly reach post-shackling, given the aforementioned constraints of a limited, finite pool of metals capable of being harvested from the earth. However¡ª¡± The princess paused, a glint in her eyes indicating that she was reaching the climax of this confrontation. ¡°¡ªI am assuming that this functional limitation does not apply to your realm.¡± Thacea spoke with a sense of finality and conviction, one that reached its precipice with a parroting and paraphrasing of a line that I distinctly recall from a week ago. ¡°After all, it is by your admission that your kind has already crossed the distance of stars, as if they were the distance of oceans.¡± My heart skipped a beat as I heard those words repackaged and repeated outside of its original context. Moreover, I could palpably feel the undercurrents of Thacea¡¯s thirst for the truth, stemming from not only the avinor¡¯s gaze, but in the inflections in each and every one of her words. ¡°Your logic is sound, Thacea.¡± I began with a firm nod, quickly readjusting my sprawled out form, into something that was more presentable to the astute and observant royal. ¡°You¡¯re correct in assuming that achieving post-shackling of any rare metal would be¡­ difficult so long as you¡¯re confined to a single realm. Transmutation is clearly a cheat code out of this trap, but otherwise, if you¡¯re mana-less or lack this whole pinnacle transmutation thing¡­ you¡¯ll run into that wall eventually. There¡¯s really no getting around that.¡± I admitted with a shrug. ¡°We knew, ever since the first machines of the industrial era were fired up, that we¡¯d run out of resources eventually. We understood well that while sustainability was a possibility within a single world, that our desire for advancement through mutual and collective betterment would reach a functional impasse if we were to remain stuck in our cradle.¡± I took a moment to pause, as I attempted to recall Thacea¡¯s own comments during our private sight-seer adventure. ¡°Your people were right when you yearned for the void beyond the sky, Thacea. For despite its inhospitality, its cold and dead nature, its resistance to exploration without the input of great and considerable effort¡­ and the difficulties in even breaching it in the first place¡­ the rewards if you reach it are immense.¡± Thacea¡¯s eyes at this point had remained open throughout all of this, her gaze unwavering, as her feathers were stuck taut to her form, as if bracing for an impact. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°In exploring the void, in crossing the distance between stars, we encountered only barren and desolate lands. Some were realms of red dirt with no air, no water, and not a hint of life save for traces of what was perhaps once life within the microverse. Others were realms of unending storms, torrential downpours of acid instead of rain, with temperatures so immense that even metals would melt beneath its sweltering atmosphere. Others still, were realms of icy tombs, harboring dead oceans and an unending dark abyss which for eons has never seen the light of day. Yet it was the first of these dead worlds where we began our tentative forays into material post-shackling. A world which our ancestors had been infatuated with from the very onset of our species¡­¡± I paused, grabbing my tablet as I set it down on the table, accessing an image of a night sky, before pointing towards a lone white circle hovering overhead. ¡°Your moon?¡± Thacea questioned. ¡°Yes. I¡­ am not sure just how much the Nexus has damaged your kind¡¯s advancements in the field of astronomy, but the moon is¡ª¡± ¡°A realm unto its own, yes.¡± Thacea interjected. ¡°That¡¯s what the empiricalists believed after close scrutiny using early forms of manaless far-seer devices. Though many, even at the height of empiricalism, chose to believe otherwise.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I nodded. ¡°Well, your astronomers were right, Thacea. The moon is a realm unto its own. A smaller realm, sure, but a realm all the same. While some celestial bodies ¡ª er, ¡®realms¡¯, may differ with regards to the material composition of their crusts, the fact of the matter is, once you have the capability to reach these ¡®realms¡¯, you effectively¡ª¡± ¡°Have a near limitless number of realms to extract resources from¡­¡± Thacea muttered out under a bated breath, her eyes completely locked to the now-floating hologram of a pre-settled Luna. An alien sight even for me, as Luna without its signature rings, or its seemingly endless seas of crater-cities, felt¡­ off. ¡°This renders the former option, the brute-force extraction of metals from the earth, as a valid solution to rival pinnacle transmutation.¡± The princess surmised, before her eyes finally disengaged from its vice grip of the hologram, and once more entered a state of deep thought. ¡°But the scale at which you would need to extract such metals to render them functionally worthless would be¡­¡± ¡°Astronomical.¡± I finished Thacea¡¯s sentence for her. ¡°Yes.¡± She nodded in response, raising a brow at my choice of words. ¡°Yeah. It is. In fact, traditional resource extraction, whilst scalable, can¡¯t really compare to the new form of extraction that¡¯s only possible due to the nature of the void.¡± I clarified, igniting a new phase in the princess¡¯ fiery curiosity. ¡°Do tell.¡± She urged. ¡°Right, so, you understand that aside from the moon that hovers above your realm, that there exists other ¡®realms¡¯, other¡­ planets, which are effectively ¡®neighbors¡¯ to your own, correct?¡± ¡°That was another theory, and it only makes sense that if a realm can hover above ours, that others similar to it may exist just out of sight, yes.¡± Thacea acknowledged with a nod. ¡°Alright, well, the void between those realms, similar to the void which separates your realm from your moon, isn¡¯t truly vast nor empty.¡± I began. ¡°There exists¡­ smaller, miniature realms as it were. Some barely the size of this castle, whilst others the size of entire continents. All of them, however, share a similar characteristic ¡ª they¡¯re all just solid chunks of rock and ice floating through the void.¡± Thacea¡¯s eyes ¡®shifted¡¯ once again, her head twitching in the way that only an avian could, as it was clear she was taking her time to process all of this. ¡°Islands then.¡± She spoke suddenly. ¡°If the void is to a realm, what oceans are to continents, then these miniature realms of rock could be compared to islands dotting an ocean.¡± Thacea surmised, her eyes betraying the intelligent clockwork running behind them. ¡°Yeah! That''s actually very apt.¡± I acknowledged with a nod before continuing. ¡°However, unlike islands, these miniature realms, asteroids as we call them, are quite literally just chunks of rock just floating in a void of near-nothingness. Some of these rocks are, of course, worthless. But many, many of them, contain valuable metals, in such high concentrations that they rival traditional forms of metal extraction from ¡®realms¡¯. Thus, as our abilities to traverse the void grew, so too did our abilities to find, isolate, and capture these asteroids grow with it.¡± I paused, considering what I was about to say next with great caution. ¡°We¡¯ve reached a point now where we can process any one of these asteroids with ease. We have¡­ ships, what we refer to as extra-atmospheric vessels, or EAVs, which are purpose-designed with the intent of consuming these asteroids either by piecemeal, or whole.¡± Thacea closed her eyes at the tail end of that explanation, moving her hands to rest her forehead, as she let out a high-pitched breath almost similar to a cross between a boiling kettle and a bird call. ¡°These¡­ asteroids¡­ range from the size of castles to entire continents, yes?¡± Thacea inquired. ¡°Yeah. Usually somewhere in between. It¡¯s a huge spectrum really, but¡ª¡± ¡°And you are claiming that not only do you have ships which traverse the void, but are instead also capable of consuming these¡­ miniature realms, whole?¡± Thacea uttered out with a palpable tone of dread coloring her voice. ¡°Well, to be clear, that¡¯s only for smaller asteroids. Usually the procedure is to process it piecemeal using multiple ships and an insane number of drones, before hauling those chunks back to er¡­ void-based refineries that then process the ores we collect into the metals which you see here.¡± I gestured back towards the wealth cube. Thacea took another moment to catch her breath, before revealing a pair of tired and drained eyes which looked as if they were on the verge of disbelief. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if this sounds a bit too far-fetched, but it is the truth, Thacea.¡± I offered out in reassurance. ¡°I know.¡± The princess admitted. ¡°That¡¯s what makes this all so¡­ jarring.¡± She acknowledged. ¡°The validation of my empiricalist ancestors¡¯ theories, whilst satisfying, brings into focus an existential dread the likes of which I can only imagine to be reality-shattering for those otherwise used to the inter-realm paradigm set forth by the Nexus. Moreover, whilst your explanations do satisfy my primary concern with your claims¡­ it opens up so many more questions which I find¡­ difficult to appropriately address.¡± The princess paused, once more sinking her face into her hands. ¡°Your decision to abstain from divulging this vital piece of the story, is most certainly a prudent one, Emma.¡± She concluded with a sharp exhale. ¡°I appreciate that, Thacea.¡± I responded politely, prompting the princess to nod once in response. ¡°However, when the time comes, when the shock of your treasury wanes; this matter must be broached and addressed in a manner that is¡­ coherent and digestible by the rest of our peers.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m assuming this might prove to be a bit easier said than done, as not everyone has the same degree of prerequisite knowledge you have, Thacea.¡± ¡°Some might.¡± The princess corrected. ¡°However, as it pertains to the likes of Thalmin and Ilunor, I believe that a more¡­ illustrative approach should be pursued.¡± Thacea quickly gestured towards the tarped-over ZNK-19 holoprojector. ¡°I believe that when the time comes to broach this, it might be best to start from the beginning. The beginning of¡­ however it was you managed to breach the barrier between the skies and the void in the first place.¡± I nodded in agreement, as I reached for the tablet once more. ¡°That was what I was planning, yeah.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°Similar to how my first demonstration went, I was hoping to gradually ease everyone into the notion of void travel, by starting from our first tentative steps, to where we are now today.¡± I reasoned, before taking a moment to let out a huge breath. ¡°Regardless, I am¡­ glad that we had this conversation, Thacea.¡± ¡°The pleasure is all mine, Emma.¡± Thacea dipped her head once more, as she slowly, but surely attempted to get back into the swing of things. ¡°With that being said, I do have one final question.¡± ¡°Sure thing. I¡¯m all ears.¡± ¡°You have hinted before, as you have hinted now, that the realms you¡¯ve encountered floating within the void, are varying sorts of barren and desolate wastelands. Have you not once discovered a realm bearing life?¡± ¡°No.¡± I answered simply. ¡°Best we¡¯ve found was er, microverse-scale life. Other than that, all we¡¯ve inherited from the stars are barren rocks. Though from those barren rocks, we¡¯ve managed to carve and construct pockets of our home, instances of habitable oases built to not only allow permanent habitation ¡ª but as works of living and evolving marvels of our defiance against the inhospitable reality of the void.¡± Thacea took a moment to ponder that, to really consider that, before simply nodding. ¡°I recall seeing one already. That band of sky, which you claim to have built and inhabited.¡± ¡°That is one such example of it, albeit much closer to home than most.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Silence eventually descended on us, but it was clear that even in this seemingly peaceful state, the princess was now wracked with busying internal thoughts. Her features, whilst back to its resting congenial expression, betrayed a busy mind locked in what I could only imagine to be intense introspection. ¡°It must be quite a stroke of ironic frustration then, that the first life-harboring place you¡¯ve discovered, is one so hostile to your very being.¡± The princess acknowledged. ¡°The thought does hit me sometimes. Especially when I¡¯m faced with Nexian-grade shenanigans. But it¡¯s moments like these that truly make the mission worth it.¡± I offered with a smile beneath my helmet. To which the princess reciprocated.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Grand Concourse Terminal. Local Time: 0610 Hours. Emma That was the longest bout of sleep I¡¯ve had yet. A grand total of nearly nine hours, on top of the three hour nap earlier in the day, was definitely enough to catch up on my sleep debt. However, no amount of sleep could prepare me for what awaited us at this section of the castle I hadn¡¯t yet seen. The Main Concourse Terminal was, once again, another architectural masterpiece. With intricately carved stone and ornamented railings that was just short of cluttered, but sorta worked considering how large and expansive the whole place was. It reminded me of a local transport hub, especially with the two platforms that dominated the otherwise empty space. However, before we could proceed to the platform, or even examine it close-up, we were hit with a burst of mana radiation, coinciding with the appearance of a ticketing booth, and a familiar apprentice whose voice soon filled the otherwise serene and silent surroundings. ¡°WHY HELLO HELLO THERE! WHAT¡¯S ALL THIS THEN?!¡± He practically yelled out. ¡°Some bumbling band deciding to take a trip to town, unsupervised, without any tickets?!¡± It was at this point however, that Ilunor started showing his true disgruntled colors, as he approached the ticketing booth, and demanded that I raise him up to face the apprentice. I did so silently, lifting up the little grumpy noble, and bringing him up to eye level with the apprentice; prompting some sort of a stare-off. ¡°We are first years, you bumbling idiot. Now check your schedule, and check your daily orders.¡± A small grumble soon emerged from within the ticketing booth, as the apprentice narrowed his eyes on a cartoonishly long scroll of paper, before nodding in agreement. ¡°Hmm¡­ well how was I supposed to know? In all my time at the academy, first years have never arrived this early for the town trip. Even I never arrive this early for ticketing duties.¡± ¡°Well then why are you here now?¡± ¡°Because you tripped my alarm, you knobheads! Ruining my beauty sleep and for what? Just to tell me that you¡¯re being oh so responsible by going to the town early?!¡± This back and forth continued for way too long, until finally, he let us through with four stamped tickets and a series of frustrated breaths. ¡°Well off you go then! And don¡¯t let me catch you causing trouble!¡± We moved forwards, each of us assigned tickets by the apprentice, just as the doors to the platforms soon opened up; revealing a sheer cliff face and a view of the town below. The terminal, with its doors now open, reminded me of one of those high-altitude ski resorts in Switzerland and Olympus Mons. This proved doubly-true as a glowing cable violently arrived from down below, connecting itself to two beams that jutted out of the recesses of the platform. From there, what I could only describe as egregiously decorated cable cars ascended upwards, through a layer of fog, before settling next to the platforms we currently stood at. ¡°Huh.¡± I acknowledged with a cock of my head. ¡°Well I guess that¡¯s honestly one effective means of transport.¡± I shrugged. A part of me was waiting for Ilunor to lambast me with inane comments about how cable cars were simply beyond Earth¡¯s technical capacity. However, such a claim wasn¡¯t voiced. Which meant that thankfully, his understanding of Earthrealm was finally sinking in. Despite that though, the Vunerian still managed to find a way to undermine my expectations, as he simply walked right past the cable cars, and towards a set of unassuming doors twenty or so feet down the platform. ¡°I told you to use the bathroom before we left for the trip, Ilunor.¡± I sighed. ¡°You embarrass yourself by making such sarcastic jabs, earthrealmer.¡± The Vunerian hissed. ¡°These aren¡¯t the doors to the powder room, as much as your backwards sensibilities would lead you to believe, but rather these doors are the most convenient means of traveling to and from the town barring point-to-point teleportation.¡± He announced, before opening the door wide for the rest of us to see. Beyond the door¡­ was what I could only describe as an extension of the room we were currently in. The architecture, design language, and even the layout of everything was just a natural extension of the concourse. However, just fifty or so feet from the door was where the differences truly began. Because instead of more castle walls, doors, or even hallways, there was, in fact, a road. A paved road, with carriages and carts, moving to and fro. Moreover, as I took a look around, it was clear that the door was positioned in such a way that there was no way there was a room behind it. If traditional physics was in play, then it should¡¯ve just led to a cliff on the other side of that wall. ¡°As I said, Elaseer is only a step away, earthrealmer.¡± The Vunerian chuckled. Chapter 98: Thinking With Portals The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Grand Concourse Terminal. Local Time: 0620 Hours. Emma Teleportation via convoluted and magical means was not beyond me. I¡¯d experienced way, way more than my fair share of it in my first week of being here. But portals? A literal bridge between two points in space? Where all it took was a simple step to bridge the gap between tens of miles, as if it was just separated by the thickness of a doorframe? Now, that was markedly different. Or at the very least, it felt different. Whether it was simply because I was now face to face with a portal without the added pressure of a bomb ticking down to oblivion, or whether it was because I wasn¡¯t still reeling from the explosive repercussions of said bomb, one fact remained the same ¡ª looking through that door was quite literally breaking both my mind and my sense of perspective. This was amplified even further, the moment Ilunor stepped through that door, and arrived in a space that was effectively an entire cable-car ride away. He¡¯d just traveled miles¡­ in a single step. I could feel the spirits of Professor Doctor Fujikawa, Professor Doctor Khan, and Associate Professor Shaw, bearing down on me with varying levels of satisfaction, frustration, and self-congratulatory ovations in that order. Their life¡¯s work, having been relegated to the footnotes of the many, many, failed attempts at getting us out of Sol before the warp drive, was now being proven at least somewhat tenable here in an entirely different reality. Whilst not exactly a wormhole¡­ this most certainly felt as mind-breaky as one, that¡¯s for sure. ¡°Ahem!¡± A voice from behind me finally snapped me out of my shock and reverie, as I turned around to see the apprentice. ¡°Gawking at the fixed-point portal between the Academy and the town now, are ya?!¡± He cocked his head. ¡°What?! Haven¡¯t you ever seen the groundbreaking, reality-defining, earth-shattering wonder of instantaneous transport between two points in a physically discrete space before?!¡± The man paused, managing to just about close the distance between us, leaving an uncomfortable two inches of space between our personal spaces. ¡°I mean, I have, but, I guess this one¡¯s just¡­ different.¡± I offered. To which the man simply let out a loud hmph, before responding. ¡°Very well then!¡± He shouted, loud enough that I feared for anyone still sleeping within a hundred mile radius, before reaching into his coat and producing a letter. ¡°Here, take this.¡± He pushed the letter right in front of my face, prompting me to grab it, a groan escaping my throat the moment I saw who it was from. The Dean. ¡°Is that all?¡± I replied with a sigh. ¡°That is, in fact, all.¡± The apprentice nodded, and with a single flourish of his cape, he began strutting back over to his ticketing booth with a few stompy footfalls. With another frustrated sigh, I began tearing into the letter, revealing a rather short one this time around, with a particularly curious instruction that felt innocuous as it did¡­ dare I say it ¡ª magical. In accordance with Academy regulation, given you are classified as an atypical mana-fielder, you are instructed to purchase a Mana Focus from any of the approved proprietors within the Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Attached to this letter is a list of approved¡­ The benign wording, and the lack of any passive aggressive jabs (barring the whole atypical mana-fielder thing), felt like it was setting the tone for the day. Hopefully, Thalmin¡¯s hopes would come to fruition. Hopefully¡­ Today would actually be uneventful. The fact that the dean was being civil and upfront for once, was as good of an indicator as any, right? In any case, I eventually turned my attention back towards the door, as I resumed my stares of complete and utter disbelief at the magical wonder in front of me; more specifically, at the horizon line that was entirely off from my perspective. With the strangely overcast night behind us, we were promptly treated to the sight of a pale blue sky, barely lit up by the sun; giving an almost whimsical feeling to the start of the day. It was that same feeling I got when waking up extra early at the start to a long weekend. That feeling of being free to do whatever it was I wanted, and the large and seemingly endless possibilities that awaited me at the dawn of a new day. But instead of just waiting for another episode of Forgotten Tales to drop, or diving head first (then promptly getting lost) into the seemingly endless physical library in my dad¡¯s study, I was instead faced with the boundless and practically infinite possibilities that awaited me in Elaseer. This was a magical town. In a genuinely magical reality. And sure, if I were to be cynical about it, I could say it was a college town, and a pretty gentrified one at that. But that didn¡¯t mean the spark of honest to god fantasy wasn¡¯t still there somewhere. A town was, after all, composed of people. And if the Academy had taught me anything, it¡¯s that even in a sea of brainwashed subjects, there were always those that didn¡¯t conform. So if Thacea, Thalmin, Sorecar and Chiska were anything to go by, the town could very well be my closest shot at fulfilling this ¡®fantastical world¡¯ itch. ¡°EVI.¡± I began, eliciting an affirmative beep from my virtual partner in crime. ¡°Keep a close eye on telemetry readings, and whatever you do, don¡¯t freak out.¡± I warned playfully, before going through the motions of what literally any other person would do in my shoes. I began testing out the portal. With a tentative, but curious motion, I pushed my ¡®hand¡¯ through the threshold. I expected something to immediately throw me off. Some sort of resistance, some sort of barrier, some weird surge in energy, some sort of suction pulling me through the threshold. Instead, I felt nothing. There was no resistance. No barrier. No weird eruption of energy or anything to indicate anything was amiss. Not even a weird ¡®suction¡¯ to push me through the threshold. Nothing, but a heavy dose of mana radiation that increased in intensity at the threshold of the portal, presumably there just to sustain it. I stood there, my body firmly stood within the Academy, and my ¡®hand¡¯ inches in front of me¡­ miles away in town. A familiar feeling I thought I¡¯d be experiencing more of on this mission quickly manifested ¡ª the feeling of complete and utter befuddlement, disorientation, and outright disbelief. I was seeing what was only possible in VR, manifesting in real life. And it was just so jarring. ¡°Ugh! Enough with the childish theatrics, earthrealmer!¡± I heard a voice from across the doorway, Ilunor¡¯s voice, coming through. What happened next however just put my brain into a further spiral, as he casually walked through the portal once more, from the town, and back into the Academy; where he promptly placed himself behind one of my shins and started pushing. The act itself was comical, if not downright aggravating, depending on my mood. However, given the context of how this was even allowed to happen¡­ it didn¡¯t really bother me. Moreover, it simply pushed me to investigate the portal further. Ignoring the Vunerian, and focusing entirely on the doorway in front of me, I finally moved forward, taking a single, solid stride and reaching the other side in the same way my ¡®hand¡¯ did ¡ª without any fanfare whatsoever. ¡°I assume you lack such forms of instantaneous transportation in your realm, Emma.¡± Thacea surmised. However, instead of responding, I simply moved back towards the portal, now utterly obsessed over it. I did what anyone would do, be they a child or adult, gamer or scientist¡­ Indeed, I channeled the sum total of human curiosity to satiate that one burning question. What would happen if you stood in the middle of the portal? What would your eyes see when you were wedged halfway between two spaces? I just had to find out. So with another swift motion, I once again stepped through the portal. However this time, I stopped half way, standing sideways in the door, with one foot in the Academy and the other in Elaseer. This way, both of my eyes now stared out at two different locations, miles apart. But again, just like the ¡®hand¡¯ experiment, nothing disastrous happened. Instead, I experienced more or less the same thing you¡¯d experience in a typical VR session if you attempted the same stunt. I simply saw the Academy¡¯s concourse in one eye, and Elaseer¡¯s in the other. If anything, because of how similar the terminals¡¯ designs were, this proved to be less disorientating than I expected. In fact, if I didn¡¯t realize this doorway was a portal, it¡¯d be difficult to tell I was in two places at once. The thought of the portal slicing me in half through an unexpected deactivation made me anxiously jump to the other side however, as I was soon confronted with the gang who stared at me with varying degrees of perplexity. ¡°You know, they designed the concourse in such a way, with virtually identical designs, such that a person wouldn¡¯t lose their sanity if they pulled off the stunt you just did.¡± Thalmin announced firmly, garnering a cock of my head. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°No, not really.¡± He responded with a mischievous chuckle, his features contorting to one of absolute slyness that I could only respond to with a puff of my cheeks¡­ not that anyone was able to see it. ¡°But it¡¯s fun to imagine that to be the case, regardless!¡± ¡°In any case, given everything you¡¯ve experienced thus far, I¡¯d assume you¡¯ve had enough of portals for the rest of the school year, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor butted in with a frustrated groan. ¡°I mean, to an extent, yeah. However, those experiences were more or less ¡®heat of the moment¡¯ type situations. In total, I think I¡¯ve had what¡­ three encounters with portals overall? This is the first time I actually get to mess around with a portal, and it¡¯s just so¡­ jarring.¡± I explained, garnering only a quirk of Ilunor¡¯s brow, but more so just a face full of tired frustration. ¡°You newrealmers are so easily amused by the slightest of modern conveniences.¡± He shot back, as he began walking out of the concourse, followed by a growling Thalmin, and eventually by myself and Thacea. We eventually made our way through the mirrored concourse, towards the open-air entrance, where I was finally able to lay my eyes upon an entirely new world. A world that I¡¯d only briefly glimpsed during a dark and action-filled night. But one that now showed its true colors, bathed in sunlight, rather than by the occasional streetlamp. The first thing that hit me was the brightness of it all, as even in the drowsy shades of dawn, the buildings themselves seemed to glow with a warm and welcoming aura. The architecture on display here was nothing short of artisanal in terms of aesthetic, but uniform in their theming. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. They resembled something out of the renaissance, with townhouses and free-standing structures lining the wide avenue-like streets. However, what they prided themselves in intricate design, they seemed to lack in color and paintwork, as cleanliness didn¡¯t seem to end with the spotlessness of the streets and facades, but seemed to go so far as to suck the life out of the buildings ¡ª leaving only white and varying shades of cream and black to act as accenting and contrast. But in a story as old as time, wherever there was an arbitrary deficit in expression, there was bound to be some sort of an outlet to make up for it. Which, in the case of Elaseer, seemed to come in the form of the outrageously ornate architecture of the buildings themselves. Block upon block of storefront and apartment alike were decorated in all manner of facades, ranging from ornate carvings, to terraced exteriors, to even full-blown statues and ornaments of varying size and shapes. Nothing seemed to be off-limits here, as it looked as if the architects had just raided an antique store for all of its knick-knacks for use in their designs. The second thing to really slam me in the face was the sheer openness and liveliness of the streets themselves. As unlike the repetitive and same-y life within the academy walls, there seemed to be more variety, more color when it came to passersby and traffic alike. With the sound of quiet conversation and occasional chatter generating this buzzing sensation within my very soul. Whilst small town life was one I yearned for, I never knew what I missed when I left Acela for the relative sterility of the IAS¡¯ facility, let alone the quiet emptiness that was the Academy. And while Elaseer was no Acela, let alone this early in the morning, it was still a welcome departure from the predatory school life that was the Academy. Elves dominated what few pedestrians there were at this hour, with most dressed rather modestly, lacking in ornamentation and gaudy aesthetics that the rest of the non-uniformed student body seemed to be so fond of. And judging by their neutral expressions, and a look of deference upon making eye contact with Ilunor, and to a lesser extent, Thacea and Thalmin, it soon became clear who most of these people were. Class differences aside, many of them seemed to actually wear a genuine smile on their faces, making for a stark difference from the more calculated interactions back in the Academy. Though strangely, when attempting to isolate and translate their idle chatter, the EVI seemed to come up with a statistically significant wider margin of error; far more than what was observed up too this point. I was so preoccupied by both the charm of my surroundings and the EVI¡¯s technical hiccups, that I¡¯d almost zoned out Thacea¡¯s list-reading, as she went down the list of places we had to hit either before or after the adventuring hall meeting, depending on what shops decided to open. ¡°Stationeries.¡± She began, as she went down the list of precisely what we needed. ¡°Notebooks, quills, pens, and all manner of instruments.¡± ¡°Got it.¡± I nodded, my mind wandering some more as I just couldn¡¯t stop looking at everything around me. The streets themselves were buzzing with vehicular activity, with nary a horse-drawn carriage to be seen, replaced instead by the same sorts of horseless carriages similar to Lartia¡¯s own stretch-carriage. Though fancy and relatively common, it seems as if the horseless carriages were mostly relegated for passenger-use, leaving the few utility and cargo-carrying carts I could see to remain mostly horse-drawn. This divide was further reflected in the many alleyways seemingly carved into this picturesque, dynamic world of solid white buildings, as cart upon cart hugged the ¡®service channels¡¯ of the avenue, before veering off into an alleyway as quickly as they found one. ¡°Alchemized and magic-resistant glassware.¡± Thacea continued, eliciting another nod from me. ¡°Gotcha.¡± I responded. ¡°Though tantalizing, I do urge everyone to resist the temptations of the merchants, as they will do everything in their power to upsell you on superfluous additions on each and every purchase.¡± Thalmin quickly chimed in. ¡°Engraved glassware, engraved stationeries, engraved notebooks,. Yes yes yes, these merchants all know one trick in the book, and that¡¯s to play the role of the would-be novice engraver ¡ª scrawling down family crests and surnames into each and every item you decide to purchase.¡± Ilunor responded with a tacit sigh. ¡°Very poorly too, if that must be said.¡± He quickly added. ¡°Huh¡­ so this really is a college town, complete with gimmicks and cringy up-selling tactics.¡± I offered out absentmindedly, my eyes still transfixed on each and every detail in front of me, as I soaked in the ambiance some more, especially as the sleepy dawn quickly started giving way to all-out morning. ¡°School uniforms for those that haven¡¯t yet had one tailored¡ª¡± Thacea paused, taking a moment to purposefully eye each and every one of us. ¡°¡ªof which it seems as if only one among us has had the foresight to prepare for.¡± My brow quickly perked up at this rare instance of cattiness from the avinor princess. ¡°Your kind are quick to show your deference for the Nexus, Princess Dilani, and I very much appreciate that.¡± Ilunor responded with a series of exaggerated nods. ¡°In any case, I will actively mourn the loss of my daily dress. Oh, the sacrifices I make for academia.¡± He spoke in an almost flighty tone of voice, as his personality seemed to shift towards this more outwardly eccentric one the more and more we encountered members of the general public. Many of whom I noticed paying increasing attention to us, their eyes fixated on me in a mix of curiosity and apprehension. That much was to be expected. Though what wasn¡¯t expected was how about half of their attentions seemed to be focused on the Vunerian, as it seemed as if every other person we passed took their time to regard the small blue thing either with a dip of their head, or an all out bow provided they weren¡¯t busy with anything on hand. These public displays of deference seemed to fuel the Vunerian¡¯s gait, as confidence slowly but surely started to return. What damage the Academy life had inflicted on him so far seemed to just melt away with each and every passing show of respect. This all culminated in the ultimate show of courtesy and reverence for the Vunerian as we arrived at our first destination and the reason we even bothered to wake up this early for in the first place ¡ª the bakery. In fact, we didn¡¯t even have to step into the establishment for this display of respect to begin. ¡°Ah! My lord! Please, allow me!¡± What I¡¯d first assumed to be another customer given his fancy attire, but quickly turned out to be the doorman, spoke. A bakery¡­ with a literal porter out in front¡­ Now I¡¯ve seen everything. I thought to myself. Ilunor¡¯s reaction to this was nothing less than complete and utter satisfaction, as that smug signature grin returned in full. No further words were exchanged as he waltzed through that door, and into what I could only describe as a bakery that even Marie Antoinette would be impressed by. Color, vibrancy, and noisy design practically flash-banged me, as it felt as if all of the lost vibrancy of the outside world had instead been bottled up and hidden away in this one room. The wallpaper and embellishments of the place screamed Versailles, but the glass display cases and gravity-defying rotating shelves of pastries was enough to remind me of exactly where I was. Pastries of all varieties sat proudly behind each display case, their freshness visible from the fogginess of the glass, and the literal magical glistening of some of the more fancy treats. Golden brown, flaky, crunchy delights teased me as I became even more palpably aware of the two senses permanently denied to me in this realm. Coincidentally, the two that were arguably the most important in place like this ¡ª taste and smell. The former, I could barely deal with. But the latter? Well¡­ that was abject torture right about now. ¡°Ah! My lord! It is an honor to have you as our first customer!¡± A voice boomed from behind the seemingly unending rows of busy bakers running to and from the massive furnaces and the display cases out in front. ¡°Welcome to Byron¡¯s Best Baked Goods! It is not often that we are visited by a member of the Nexian nobility. So please, excuse me for my tardiness and lack of tact, my lord.¡± The proprietor in question, an elf clad in what I could only describe as a cross between a chef¡¯s jacket and a nobleman¡¯s coat, arrived on scene; pushing past the counter, before dipping his head with a deep bow. ¡°How may I be of service, my lord?¡± ¡°Your finest baked goods, one of each, to be delivered to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild at my summoning.¡± Ilunor stated tersely, without even looking the man in the eye. ¡°Of course, my lord. Your will be done.¡± He bowed deeply, before scurrying back behind the counter, and scribbling something on a parchment. ¡°And will my lord wish to open an account with this establishment, or¡ª¡± Ilunor responded to this question by simply reaching for his sack of coins, and slamming it hard on the counter, despite having to reach up high to do so. ¡°I haven¡¯t the time to dilly-dally, nor the patience to deal with petty debt, so let us settle this now.¡± He spoke assertively, prompting the man to quickly tear off the slip of paper he was scrawling upon, before handing it to Ilunor. Peeking over the Vunerian¡¯s shoulder, the list I saw was¡­ nothing short of excessive. But he did say one of everything, after all¡­ A quick nod, and a signature of his own, marked what I assumed to be an acknowledgement of the transaction. After which, a surge of mana radiation was noted, preceding what I could only describe as an animation pulled straight out of a videogame ¡ª as gold, silver, and copper coins flowed up from Ilunor¡¯s pouch and into the elf¡¯s own pouch. Following this, the man handed Ilunor a small stone carved with runes. ¡°Simply activate the stone, and we will rush to the adventurer¡¯s guild post-haste, my lord.¡± He bowed once more, prompting Ilunor¡¯s wordless departure from that bit of social interaction, as he left without so much as a ¡®thank you¡¯. The moment we returned to the streets, however, was the moment that the culture shock of just being out here in town started to wear off. Or at least, enough that I could start addressing a few things. ¡°Right. So. Ignoring Ilunor¡¯s rather abrasive interactions just now¡ª¡± I spoke off-handedly, eliciting barely a huff from the Vunerian as he simply took in the sights, sounds, and most of all ¡ª the ¡®respect¡¯ being shown by every other passerby. ¡°¡ªI do have another item we need to add to the shopping list, Thacea.¡± I quickly reached for the letter, before handing it off to the avinor. A quick speed read later, and the princess soon gave me an answer as to exactly what the dean was asking for. ¡°I see the dean wishes to fulfill a formality.¡± Thacea began with a chirp. ¡°A mana focus will do nothing for you, Emma. Given you lack a manafield, and the ability to use mana, this will merely be a paperweight for you to carry.¡± ¡°So¡­ what exactly is it? The way it was phrased, it seems to be a tool for people with atypical manafields. I¡¯m assuming it''s like, some sort of a tool to help you augment a manafield?¡± ¡°That is correct, Emma.¡± Thacea nodded. ¡°A mana focus is little more than an enchanted item, typically crafted in the form of a wand, through which a mage may focus their magical energies ¡ª in the event that one¡¯s own manafield is too unstable or has improperly matured. It is rare that a noble mage must resort to the use of a wand. Typically, it is seen only as a learning tool, or a crutch of sorts for children still developing their manafields.¡± ¡°Typically seen in children of nobility younger than twelve years of age, and not a year more. Extended use of it seems to paradoxically hamper manafield maturation, so twelve years is the cut-off point for most mages. Though there are a few who unfortunately become reliant on it, thus limiting their ability to use wandless magic.¡± Thalmin quickly added. ¡°And any mage who uses a wand as a crutch, is quite unfortunate indeed. As a wand, as with any enchanted item, will become worn out in time. This leaves oneself vulnerable to any second-rate wandless mage worth their money.¡± Ilunor surmised, as this topic opened an entirely new fascinating subject for me to chew on. ¡°This is not even taking into account becoming disarmed in a fight. To be quite honest, a mage with a wand is just as pathetic as a guardsman with an enchanted weapon. Yes, the former may be capable of practicing magic as any other mage, but they are likewise left as powerless as a commoner if they do lose their wand; relegating them to becoming as ineffective as the latter.¡± ¡°Wait, so, can¡¯t a commoner just you know¡­ use a wand to enhance their manafield?¡± I questioned. ¡°It is clear we are yet again at another impasse with your ability to parse basic magic theory, Emma.¡± Ilunor hissed out. ¡°It¡¯s in the name, it¡¯s a mana-focus. All it does is to aid in the focusing of one¡¯s existing manafields. If a commoner were to use it, nothing would happen. If you were to use it, nothing would happen. Unlike an enchanted weapon, which still requires training mind you, wands aren¡¯t enchanted to release a predetermined enchantment of mana using a commoner¡¯s weak manafield. It¡¯s instead, simply allowing a mage to focus their pre-existing strong, but atypical manafields.¡± ¡°I see.¡± I nodded, still processing this intel. ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m assuming since the dean can¡¯t file me in as ¡®manaless¡¯, that because of some archaic rule, that I¡¯m now effectively forced to buy one simply because of my supposed ¡®atypical manafield¡¯?¡± ¡°That¡¯s precisely it, Emma.¡± Thacea nodded, just as we rounded the corner and arrived at what appeared to be the town square. A fountain dominated the central space, one that shot up impressively high, forming what appeared to be all sorts of shapes, symbols, and even entire words and letters, acting as a sort of weird cross between a New Vegas water show, and a public announcement board. ¡°Right, so, wands aren¡¯t too expensive now, are they? I mean, I just want to be wary of my budget, after all.¡± ¡°A typical wand ranges anywhere from a few hundred gold coins, up to tens of thousands if you wish for a tailor-made one.¡± Ilunor responded. ¡°I¡¯ll go for the cheapest one, thanks. It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll need it anyways.¡± I shrugged, before continuing on the path Thacea seemed to have already charted out for us. We quickly moved through one of the many branching pathways from the central, circular plaza, arriving at a street with row upon row of particularly large and prominent buildings, with each lot taking up at least ten or so townhouses¡¯ worth of storefronts alone. Context clues were enough to clue me in to exactly what these structures were. Especially the one with statues of knights in armor lining the tall steps, leading up to an oak door engraved with images of dragons, wyverns, and all sorts of beasts being slain by said knights. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look open to me.¡± I offered, gesturing at the guild hall. ¡°It¡¯s open alright. They just don¡¯t openly advertise that they are.¡± Thalmin responded, as he ascended those steps first, rising about five feet before we reached the large doors of the guild hall; knocking hard on them using the provided door-knockers. ¡°Shall I order my bread-man to come now, or¡ª¡± ¡°After we enter, Ilunor.¡± Thacea interjected, though it was already far too late if the ringing of his stone was of any indication. ¡°Ah.¡± He spoke, garnering a sigh from Thacea, as the stone quickly transformed into a mini-gargoyle and flew off. ¡°The bread-man will be here shortly, so let us make our business quick.¡± The doors quickly opened following that exchange, as a tall, large, and imposing figure dominated the space; his face obscured beneath a heavy cloak. ¡°Ah, welcome my lord.¡± The man spoke with an imposing cadence. ¡°It is not often we have pupils at the academy visiting our establishment this early in the school year. Is there a quest you would like to request from the guild? If so, you are free to contact us through Professor Chiska or¡ª¡± ¡°This is not a typical quest, I¡¯m afraid.¡± Thalmin took the reins of the conversation, reaching for the door, and keeping it open. ¡°Oh? Pray tell, what sort of atypical request do you have in mind, my lord?¡± ¡°One which requires an immediate audience with your guild master.¡± The wolf prince stated in no uncertain terms, a low grumbling emanating from deep within his chest. A moment of silence followed that demand, as the hooded figure looked off to his side, before nodding once. ¡°And an audience you shall gain¡­ mercenary prince.¡± The door swung open for us at that point, as the man gestured for us to enter¡­ But not before the mismatched footfalls of about ten people emerged from behind us. ¡°My lord! Your delivery from Byron¡¯s Best Baked Goods has arrived!¡± This prompted the doorman to turn his attention towards Thalmin, cocking his head in the process. ¡°... are they with you, my lord?¡± To which Thalmin could only sigh in response, giving a stern look to Ilunor, before turning back towards the door man with a confident look. ¡°A gesture of our good faith, and Havenbrockian hospitality, my fellow.¡± Chapter 99: That Time I Met A Nexian Guild Master Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall¡­ name pending. Local Time: 0700 Hours. Emma It shouldn¡¯t have surprised me that our first major interaction in town had resulted in a standoff. Though what did pleasantly surprise me was that unlike most of my confrontations up to this point, the point of contention between us didn¡¯t involve a ticking time bomb nor an existential threat. It instead involved¡­ bread. And pastries too. Exactly ten trays of it to be precise. With each tray somehow being comically larger than the next, managing to impress as equally as it did to impede what few pedestrians there were at this hour. ¡°Havenbrockian hospitality, was it, my lord?¡± The hooded figure spoke, his tone practically oozing a renewed sense of frustration and skepticism, clearly forming as a result of Ilunor¡¯s premature bread stunt. ¡°Indeed it is.¡± Thalmin replied sternly, without once shifting his posture as he stood there with one arm still on the door. ¡°Do you wish to reject the offer?¡± He quickly followed up, doubling down on the bread-ultimatum. A small pause dominated the air after that point as I held my breath, my eyes gazing up to check my rear-view cameras for any potential crowds that had formed following this sudden buildup in bread-related traffic. Thankfully, none had formed just yet. Which once again showed that waking up early really did have its benefits. ¡°No, my lord. This was just¡­ unexpected is all. Though you must forgive me, as practicality and tradition now stand in the way of the logistics of your kind and generous act of courtesy.¡± The man spoke cryptically, though it was clear that Thalmin¡¯s refusal to back down, was enough to assuage his skepticisms somewhat. ¡°You may wish to cover your ears for this.¡± He warned, turning around for a moment, before letting out an ear-splitting whistle. No sooner did that whistle end, did a flurry of footsteps emerge from deep within the building, as a veritable platoon¡¯s worth of haphazardly dressed elves, satyrs, serpent-people, and kobolds all came barreling out the door, standing at attention on the wide steps of the guild hall. It was this latter group that reacted the most viscerally to our presence, or more particularly, Ilunor¡¯s. However, before the Vunerian could respond or acknowledge them in any way, another amongst their group started to take center stage. One of them, a particularly scrawny-looking elf, took a few tentative steps up in front of the rank and file group; his head dipping mechanically before speaking. ¡°What is your command, guild-commander, sir?¡± ¡°You lot finished training yet?¡± The hooded figure replied sternly, his tone of voice, and indeed his accent shifting drastically to something resembling a tired and nonplussed drill sergeant; a stark contrast to the more ¡®proper¡¯ voice he was using with us before. ¡°Yes sir!¡± The elf responded, gesturing to the rest of his group, all of whom were attempting to shuffle around what seemed to pass for uniforms; panting up a storm all the while. ¡°Morning cleanup and maintenance work, along with preliminary training, complete sir!¡± ¡°Very good.¡± The guild commander replied with a single nod, before gesturing towards the line of bakers-turned-delivery men. ¡°Bring those gifts inside, and set them in the Great Hall.¡± He commanded. ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Came the scrawny elf¡¯s response, as a concerted, albeit somewhat chaotic effort, soon went underway. Tray after tray were soon handed over to the ragtag group of¡­ what I was starting to assume were trainee adventurers. Though their ages seemed to range wildly, with the oldest vaguely our age, and the youngest of which seemed way too young for a life of adventuring. With his attention finally shifting away from the would-be adventurers, the hooded man turned to address us once more. ¡°It is forbidden for any outsiders to enter the adventuring guild without permission. Especially those belonging to another guild or establishment within town.¡± The man explained. ¡°As good of a time as any to make use of squires and apprentices, then.¡± Thalmin surmised with a gravelly huff. ¡°Indeed it is, your highness.¡± The man responded with a small dip of his head. ¡°Once again, you must excuse our lack of formality. We certainly were not expecting a visitor this early, let alone royalty and nobility.¡± ¡°Formality is simply another form of discipline, guild-commander.¡± Thalmin responded in kind, stepping up to the plate with a demeanor I hadn¡¯t seen from him before. His presence, his voice, even his gaze, shifted to a more commanding one. ¡°To be frank, formality ¡ª especially of the variety you speak of ¡ª is much less impressive when compared to the discipline of a warrior. The latter of which, you seem to have no shortage of.¡± This seemed to spark some change in the man, as he let out a gruff chuckle, before placing an arm across his chest and bowing deeply in the process. ¡°You flatter me, Prince Havenbrock.¡± He began, but just as quickly gestured to the chaotic movements of the struggling group. ¡°However, I truly cannot accept such a compliment, not with any ounce of earnestness at least. Because as you can see with your own two eyes, this lot of would-be apprentices have yet to have proven themselves in any meaningful capacity.¡± ¡°We all must start somewhere, guild-commander. Formality and decorum, swordsmanship and martial skills, all the hallmarks of a warrior or adventurer are learned traits. What cannot be learned or imparted however, is a willing steely spirit ¡ª one that seeks discipline and hierarchy. Your lot seems to have that going for them, and for me, that¡¯s enough to warrant one round of flattery.¡± The hooded man could only nod along as Thalmin spoke, but whilst his features were concealed, his body language more or less gave away much of his opinions on this whole back and forth. ¡°Spoken like a true mercenary prince, your highness.¡± He bowed deeper this time around, a sense of genuine appreciation coming through, just in time for the last of the bread trays to enter through the double-doors. With a cock of his head, momentarily halting the conversation to check up on the gaggle of trainees, he quickly turned to grab his side of the door, preparing to fully open it. ¡°You, and your compatriots, are all welcome here.¡± The man extended his arm as far as it could go, pushing the door wide open in the process, and granting us a full view of the world within. ¡°Welcome to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer.¡± Thalmin wasted no time in entering, prompting the rest of us to follow closely in tow into a space that was as grand on the inside, as the outside had led me to believe. Grand pillars of geometrically shaped and carved oak dominated much of what looked to be an open-plan floor space, going up as high as to a second and third floor, both of which seemed to ¡®wrap¡¯ around the perimeter of the interior. This heavy usage of wood continued through to the simple wood-paneled walls, and was arguably put to exceptionally tasteful use on the floors. As all manner of hardwood planks ranging from pine to oak, to acacia and birch, covered the floor in a myriad of parquet patterns. Immediately in front of us was a reception area, complete with sofas, lounge chairs, coffee tables, and all manner of tastefully placed decorations. All of which were more in line with a contemporary brand of posh aesthetics; not the overindulgent gaudy baroque aesthetics of the Academy or even the Versailles-themed bakery. Immediately behind this reception lounge, was the actual reception desk, similar to what you¡¯d expect to find in hotels and inns, wrapping around a large central pillar. Whilst unstaffed and seemingly empty like most of the room right now, there was no shortage of hints at just how busy this place got at its peak. With inkwells and quills, parchments and documents, all visibly present just behind the counter ¡ª as if placed there in anticipation of yet another busy day. Flanking the reception counter at the entrance to the east and west ¡®wings¡¯ of the first floor were several large notice boards, some attached directly to the large support pillars, whilst others remained freestanding, set atop of easels and poster-stands. The EVI quickly made short work of the more official looking notices, revealing that most were lists of active adventuring parties, timetables denoting shift rotation and questing availability, as well as public notices for either vacancies, advertisements of hire, and most interestingly of all ¡ª a call for intermediately-ranked adventuring parties to take on one of the ¡®prospective apprentices¡¯ for ¡®field experience¡¯. However, the EVI¡¯s technical hiccups soon reared its ugly head back around upon setting its sights on the less-than-official notices on the various adjacent noticeboards. A quick analysis revealed that these hiccups could simply be attributed to the occasional misspelling, the use of unconventional abbreviations, or even the excessive presence of technical jargon perhaps belonging to the niche field of adventuring. Whatever the case was, my attention was quickly overtaken by the trail of trainees rapidly organizing the spoils of Ilunor¡¯s spending spree in the west wing, as the doors to the massive hall remained wide open ¡ª revealing a room packed to the brim with long bench-style dining tables that stretched from wall to wall. All manner of linen-lined baskets were set out throughout the tables, the trays of bread emptied into them at an exceptional rate. Judging by the what was visible through the large shield-styled door, the west wing was dominated mostly by a communal dining area, complete with tapestries depicting grand battles lining every available wall, and suits of armor along with stereotypically shiny weapons hanging behind glass cases in between whatever spaces remained between the tapestries. This room lacked the same warmth and luxury exuded by the reception area, as wood seemed to be used sparingly here, instead replaced by bog-standard cobblestone, brick, mortar, and harsher materials. Though, to their credit, most of the less tasteful construction was hidden quite effectively, giving off less of a medieval-utilitarian aesthetic, and more the vibe of a medieval monarch¡¯s dining hall. ¡°I will be back shortly, my lords and ladies.¡± The hooded man announced, snapping me right out of my reverie. ¡°I must inform the guild master of your arrival, and prepare them for your conference.¡± ¡°I hope this doesn¡¯t take too long, guild-commander.¡± Thalmin responded calmly. ¡°I can assure that this will take no longer than a foam¡¯s collapse, your highness.¡± The man bowed deeply, garnering a nod from Thalmin, before he promptly ran off up the stairs. It was then that I started to notice something off about his legs, as a flicker of mana radiation coincided with a sudden, but recorded, instance of some disguise magic at play. His legs were decidedly digitigrade, but then again, I wasn¡¯t yet ready to openly question it. What I would question, however, was that indecipherable idiom being used. ¡°Thalmin, what exactly is a foam¡¯s collapse?¡± I asked bluntly. ¡°It¡¯s a commoner¡¯s saying. The man¡¯s clearly a lowborn.¡± Ilunor responded haughtily, lazing against the couch with an increasing display of gross superiority. Thalmin, predictably, growled at this, before turning to me. ¡°It¡¯s a saying amongst warriors, Emma. It refers to the time it takes for a frothy mug of ale to go flat, or more specifically, the time it takes for a beer head to dissipate after standing for too long on the counter.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± I nodded once, as I quickly turned to the EVI. ¡°Are you logging this, EVI?¡± ¡°Affirmative. New esoteric colloquialism added to the [Working Language Database].¡± ¡°Which I guess implies he won¡¯t take long?¡± I clarified. ¡°Precisely, Emma.¡± Thalmin nodded. Idle conversation quickly descended among the rest of the gang as I simply took in the sights and sounds, my eyes transfixed on the diligent and well-oiled machine of the trainees. I was so enthralled by the atmosphere of this place, that I almost didn¡¯t notice one of the trainees setting up a small tea set in front of us, as a five-tier tray was quickly set up, half of which were filled by the same pastries we brought in. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°Ugh.¡± Ilunor announced, garnering a quick snap of the trainee¡¯s head, if only for the satyr to yelp meekly upon temporarily locking eyes with the Vunerian. ¡°Regifting a gift is already an act of poor taste. To actually serve your guests their own gifts¡­ is another thing entirely.¡± The blue thing spoke to no one in particular. Though that little tirade was promptly interrupted by a sharp gurgling sound. One that unmistakably came from someone¡¯s stomach. And given that none of us were hungry, the culprit of this was obvious enough, as I turned to face the trainee ¡ª a satyr that looked just about our age. The man was dressed in a simple set of clothes, consisting of a matching brown tunic and pants, which I assume was his PT uniform. Though not disheveled by any means, and clearly not starving, I couldn¡¯t help but to sympathize with him. So just as he¡¯d finished setting up, I quickly called out for him. ¡°Hey.¡± I began, reaching for one of the plates in the process. ¡°You hungry?¡± The trainee¡¯s reaction¡­ was something that I should¡¯ve anticipated. As he turned to face me with a look of disbelief, before evolving into one of worry, as if expecting some sort of a reprimand. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, my lady?¡± He stuttered out, nervousness seeping through each and every syllable. ¡°It¡¯s a simple question, are you hungry or not? You just got out of morning exercises, right? I don¡¯t imagine you¡¯ve had time to eat.¡± ¡°Y-yes, my lady. Y-you¡¯re correct.¡± He responded simply, bowing deeply between those two simple sentences. ¡°Then here.¡± I offered, extending the plate full of baked goods towards him. ¡°Go for it.¡± I managed out with a smile, or at least, with an intonation that I hoped alluded to the smile beneath my helmet. It was clear that this action garnered the attention of not only the rest of the gang, but also the other trainees who were watching this scene unfold. ¡°I¡­ I cannot fathom taking¡ª¡± ¡°Taking from guests? Well, just look at it this way. I¡¯m not hungry anyways, so why let good food go to waste?¡± I countered, standing up, and more or less shoving the plate into the satyr¡¯s hands. A few moments of quiet contemplation followed as I could just about see the loading screen beach ball of death spinning within his dilated pupils. With a gasp, and a deep bow, he relented. ¡°T-thank you, my lady!¡± He stuttered out, as he made his way out of the reception area and back into the dining hall. Chatter quickly erupted amongst the trainees, but before anything could be discerned, the hooded guild-commander quickly arrived back on scene. ¡°My sincerest apologies for having kept you waiting my lords and ladies.¡± He bowed deeply. ¡°Please, the guild master is ready to receive you.¡± With a wordless nod from Thalmin, and nary an acknowledgement from either Thacea or Ilunor, we left the reception, ascending the grand staircases, until we reached what was undeniably an elevator. This was life-saving for Ilunor, who had already begun to show signs of strain as we¡¯d ascended that first floor. The rest of the trip was made in silence, as after navigating wood-paneled after wood-paneled corridor, passing by even more tapestries and artifacts encased in glass, we¡¯d finally reached a hallway leading to a single door. It was there that the guild commander simply stood back, allowing us to enter at our own pace. Thalmin once more took the lead, knocking hard on the door, and prompting whoever was inside to respond muffledly. ¡°Enter!¡± With a single crank of the door handle, we arrived into an office that for once didn¡¯t warp the fabric of space itself. Indeed, the office¡¯s design philosophy seemed to clash harshly with that of other Nexian seats of authority I¡¯d seen thus far. Because as opposed to Mal¡¯tory and the Dean¡¯s obsession on monumentality and grandeur, this office seemed to embrace the same sort of subdued luxury as seen below in the reception area. As the warmth of the wood, and the lived-in feel of personal clutter ironically made this space feel more inherently magical than the cold authority of both of the former¡¯s offices. Though to be fair, that was probably what they were going for. Aesthetics aside, it was clear that the ceilings in this space were heightened not merely for the aura of grandeur, but for utility¡¯s purposes too. This was because the being that stood before us, clad in plate armor sans their helmet, took up about a good twelve feet worth of height. However, this would only be the beginning of the¡­ peculiarities of the guild master. ¡°Ah! My fellows, please, allow me to make myself more presentable.¡± The being spoke with an almost otherworldly voice, something that felt artificial, strained, and forced. However, instead of putting on his helmet as I¡¯d expected him to, he began doing the complete opposite. CLICK! As he unlatched the straps of his chestplate¡ª THUNK! ¡ªand allowed it to fall to the ground without a care in the world. ¡°Erm, we can return in a few moments if you¡¯d like some time to¡ª¡± CLICK! The porcelain-skinned humanoid continued unabated, his mechanically-jointed hands now reaching for his armored pants as they too¡ª THUNK! ¡ªwere removed in a single swift motion. ¡°AGHHHH!¡± Ilunor yelped out, shielding his eyes first. So rapid-paced were the developments that even Thacea was left stunned, and Thalmin was left speechless. This inexplicable turn of events eventually reached the height of its bizarreness the moment the guild master abruptly turned to face us however, as all of us rapidly went to shield our eyes¡­ only to be met with what seemed to be a literal mannequin. An oversized mannequin to be precise, complete with ball and socket joints, where traditional joints should have been; along with a painted-on face that felt more creepy than it did realistic. ¡°Whilst not required by law, I do wish to make it clear who you are speaking to.¡± The being continued, their ¡®features¡¯ completely motionless, as both of their hands reached up to their head¡­ POP! ¡­ removing it entirely. ¡°I am Piamon the Dragon-slayer. Or, if you would prefer a more noble title, I am Third-Holder Piamon Pichun of the Pichun family, tenth of my name, and thirtieth in line for the Midland County of Lorlei. Current guild master of the Elaseer Adventuring Guild.¡± The¡­ being¡­ spoke in rapid succession, bowing deeply in the process, using their ¡®head¡¯ in the same way someone removing their hat would in an official greeting. However, no sooner than my confusions had reached their precipice did they clear up, as a stream of iridescent light blue goop started to emerge from the mannequin¡¯s neck-hole, forming into a ball, before dropping down with a solid plop on the desk in front of us. ¡°How may I be of service?¡± The¡­ slime concluded. That latent reflexive part of me flinched hard, as it took me a great deal of self control to not think of it as¡­ well¡­ another similarly slimy and gelatinous creature. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ a slime?¡± I managed out, attempting to assuage my anxieties, as well as to address my burning curiosities. ¡°A greater slime, yes.¡± The slime ¡®nodded¡¯ ¡ª an act that amounted to its ¡®face¡¯ dipping slightly ¡®forwards¡¯. A face that consisted of two thin gray lines for eyes, perpetually locked in an expressionless neutrality. ¡°I assume you¡¯re the newrealmer of the hour?¡± ¡°Indeed I am.¡± I replied with a nod of my own. ¡°As such, I do apologize if that question was somewhat too blunt, or was in any way presumptuous.¡± I offered politely. ¡°No offense was taken, newrealmer. Ignorance is nothing to be sorry for.¡± The slime offered tactfully. ¡°If anything, I would prefer that you ask any and all questions pertaining to my kind and my culture here, rather than receiving filtered and undoubtedly biased commentary from others.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I nodded, before turning to Thalmin who was clearly waiting for this back and forth to be over with. However, once the shock of our introduction, and the relief from having the null question had passed, a new feeling quickly came to take its place. One which was born out of the slime¡¯s own self-admitted desire to set the record straight. This was now a chance to interact with a truly alien being outside of the Academy¡¯s walls; first contact without the overbearing flavor of the Academy¡¯s meddling. Questions began to flood my brain, as I could feel the second-hand excitement of the entirety of the sociology department¡¯s staff flowing through my veins. But while I had an infinite number of questions to ask, I still had a finite amount of time to work with. And so, I had to choose my questions carefully. Addressing the immediate circumstances was always a foolproof start to these sorts of things. I thought to myself. Though questions like ¡®what¡¯s the difference between a greater and lesser slime¡¯, whilst compelling, were probably best left for a trip to an encyclopedia. Primary evidence was best collected on topics of first-hand accounts on culture after all. Of which I had the perfect question for. ¡°You mentioned that revealing yourself is not required by law.¡± I began, much to Ilunor¡¯s annoyance. ¡°And you seem to have a very, very well crafted mannequin form at your disposal. I¡¯m assuming that your primary slime form is something that isn¡¯t very well received by socio-cultural norms? Or is your appearance somehow regulated by Nexian law?¡± These questions seemed to elicit some form of a reaction from the slime, as its ¡®skin¡¯ jiggled with a level of what I assumed was intrigue. ¡°A perceptive newrealmer, I see.¡± The guildmaster spoke, before letting out a slight chuckle. ¡°Indeed, I was referencing a few more well known limitations placed upon my kind by the likes of Nexian legal conventions.¡± They began, before moving off of the table, and ¡®growing¡¯ to meet my height. It took a solid half a minute, but standing before me, was a surprisingly realistic replica of my armor. This¡­ definitely started throwing me off, alarm bells practically blaring now, as the limits of my self-control were once more put to the test. ¡°The divulgence of my species, and indeed, the declaration of myself as a greater slime is only necessary if I were to publicly use my natural shapeshifting abilities.¡± They reasoned, even going so far as to mimic my voice, although they did so very poorly. Indeed, the more I looked, the more certain details of its mimicry were clearly flawed. From the off-blue color of the armor, to the mess of the UN emblem on the chestplate, everything just looked off after a few good hard seconds of scrutiny. ¡°This is understandable, of course. As no one wishes to have their identity stolen. The result of this is the registration act, a means of registering known and unique forms into the crown registry, tying it to a greater slime¡¯s identity, before making such a thing known to wherever a greater slime may reside. However, my kind have since eschewed frivolous and wanton shapeshifting, instead opting for the creation of static-forms, or mannequins as most elves call them.¡± The slime continued, quickly ¡®melting¡¯ away, before jumping next to the fallen mannequin heap, pointing at it for added effect. ¡°Greater slimes are in fact quite well known and well-regarded for this particular artform, Emma.¡± Thacea quickly added. ¡°Indeed, you will find no other culture so well versed in the art of cosmetics; particularly in the crafting of mannequins.¡± ¡°You flatter us, my lady.¡± The slime offered with a deep nod. ¡°Moreover, these mannequins are indeed quite useful for those among my kind that lack magical acumen, for they provide a static form that would otherwise be impossible to acquire without the natural gifts of magic.¡± ¡°It¡¯s your highness, guildmaster.¡± Thalmin corrected. ¡°This is Princess, Dilani.¡± He quickly added, before turning to the rest of us. ¡°And this is Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm, along with Lord Ilunor Rularia.¡± ¡°Ah, an HRH. Duly noted, mercenary prince.¡± The slime noted, taking a deep bow towards Thacea and Ilunor, before turning back towards me. ¡°Are there any further inquiries as to my kind, newrealmer?¡± ¡°I¡­ think I might save that for another time then, probably after we conclude our business.¡± I conceded, moreso to Thalmin than the slime. ¡°Always a pleasure to discuss the truth of my kind. Though I do hope that my personality has not become as stilted as my porcelain exterior might otherwise lead you to think.¡± ¡°Not at all, Guildmaster Piamon Pichun. I appreciate your candor.¡± I dipped my head in acknowledgement. ¡°Now with all that being said¡ª¡± Thalmin quickly chimed in. ¡°¡ªI would like to discuss our rather¡­ atypical request.¡± The guildmaster quickly returned to his former posture, ¡®hopping¡¯ back onto the table, and leaning forwards towards the lupinor. ¡°Yes, mercenary prince?¡± ¡°I will be forthright in my request. I wish to issue a closed quest, to Wyvern-class adventurers and above, for the scouting, tracking, and reporting of the whereabouts of the Amethyst dragon.¡± The guildmaster¡¯s form jiggled once again in response to that. ¡°And would that be the very same Amethyst dragon that¡¯s become the talk of the town as of late?¡± They inquired back. ¡°Yes.¡± Thalmin nodded. ¡°Though I do stress, this is purely a scouting and reconnaissance mission, with all hazard pay included, along with a bonus for the quick and prompt delivery of said information.¡± ¡°And how much are you offering for this¡­ atypical quest, mercenary prince?¡± ¡°Five thousand gold.¡± Thalmin stated plainly. Though at this point, it was difficult to really discern a reaction from the slime given their lack of a face. ¡°Well thank goodness you specified this was merely a scouting mission, otherwise I would¡¯ve denied such a request at such a measly price.¡± The slime responded, before reaching out a single ¡®arm¡¯ to rest its nonexistent ¡®chin¡¯ upon. ¡°May I ask why you wish for such a quest?¡± ¡°A personal academic matter, guild master.¡± Thalmin responded bluntly. ¡°Alright then, shall I send someone to the Academy to verify these claims?¡± The slime rebutted. ¡°I¡¯m afraid this form of academics is under a different authority.¡± I chimed in, pulling out a familiar card that immediately caught the attention of the slime; his whole body jostling uncontrollably in the process. ¡°Ah. I see.¡± The slime responded with a sly chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s been a long, long time since I¡¯ve seen one of those.¡± They managed out through an excited breath. ¡°Alright then¡­ let¡¯s discuss the terms.¡± Chapter 100: Silksongs Silken Shop Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Local Time: 0740 Hours. Emma ¡°A week?!¡± The guildmaster shuddered in place, their thin iridescent membrane bristling up and outwards in every direction. ¡°Or sooner, if at all possible.¡± I quickly added, just as we entered the meat and potatoes of the contract, hammering out the details of the more vital requirements of this atypical request. That answer didn¡¯t seem to help matters much, as the guild master did the human equivalent of leaning back against their chair ¡ª melting into a small gelatinous puddle. Though strangely, that didn¡¯t seem to affect their ability to speak at all. ¡°You ask for the impossible, in addition to the atypical.¡± The greater slime answered promptly, with a clear pang of annoyance present throughout their voice. ¡°So¡­ a week isn¡¯t possible?¡± I quickly followed up, cocking my head in the process. To which the slime ¡®sighed¡¯ in response, or at least, I assumed that was what the bubbles forming within its confines was the equivalent of. ¡°I¡­ am willing to give you the benefit of a doubt, newrealmer. Considering this is a completely foreign land, with foreign conventions and foreign expectations, there may be some potential¡­ adjustments that may need to be made with regards to boisterous, outlandish, and frankly eccentric requests. I¡­ will assume this deadline was made either in some attempt at jest, or perhaps a strange conversational bluff.¡± A brief pause punctuated the guild master¡¯s rebuff, to which I was once again thankful for my helmet, as it acted as a resting poker face for these sorts of dealings; its glowing red eyes drilled deep into the slime¡¯s unflinching photoreceptors. ¡°This isn¡¯t a bit, or an attempt at a bluff, guild master.¡± I responded firmly. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I am very much serious about that deadline.¡± The slime took a moment to consider that response, their ¡®eyes¡¯ shifting from my visor, to that of the library card still firmly clenched between my fingers. ¡°The circumstances are that serious, I presume?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not at liberty to divulge that.¡± I responded diplomatically. ¡°Though you have my word that I¡¯m not being hyperbolic for the sake of petty mind games or posturing. I need it within a week, max. Or sooner, if at all possible.¡± Another silence manifested soon after that reaffirmation, as the slime once more formed a ¡®chin¡¯, and an ¡®arm¡¯ to rest it upon, if only to show their genuine contemplation of the terms of this quest. ¡°A week¡­ is possible, provided that supplementary conditions are considered for this quest.¡± He began cryptically. ¡°Adventurers tend to operate on foot, or on horseback. They sometimes utilize the service of mainline transportiums, but those are hard-linked to others of its kind along a chained path. Which means that they are, in effect, limited to towns and cities with mainline transportiums. Thus, to venture into the wilderness, to where this amethyst dragon may potentially reside¡­ will require either the tolerance of time¡­ or the use of unconventional forms of transportation.¡± The slime once more paused, ¡®cocking¡¯ their whole body in the process. ¡°And since you have vehemently denied the use of the former, then we must thus employ the latter, to expedite this quest.¡± I nodded along at that, the rest of the group seemingly agreeable to the suggestion. ¡°So you¡¯re saying we need to arrange a form of transportation for them.¡± I surmised. ¡°Something that isn¡¯t just a horse or a donkey or a horse-drawn carriage or what have you.¡± I continued, reaching a hand to rest my own chin upon. ¡°Alright then, what do you suggest?¡± ¡°Ideally? Drakes.¡± The greater slime answered succinctly, a vast improvement and a breath of fresh air from the less than forthright conversations back at the Academy. ¡°However, drakes are both prohibitively expensive, and would require the involvement of Mayoral meddling¡­ which I assume you lot will probably be against.¡± I turned to Ilunor expectantly, for once hoping the blue thing would have something to add. But he didn¡¯t, his brows even perking up in annoyance following my not-so-subtle attempt at signaling for his involvement in all of this. ¡°I am afraid it will be quite impossible, earthrealmer.¡± He responded with a loud sigh. ¡°The deployment of my drakes outside of my kingdom¡¯s borders will similarly either require mayorly approval from Elaseer, or, a Crownlands warrant. Besides, you would need a drake rider to chaperone the adventurers around, at which point any and all pretenses of discretion are now completely and utterly shattered.¡± ¡°In lieu of Drakes, we could settle for Pegasi.¡± Piamon continued, as they generated a five-fingered hand just to list off the various other options we had at our disposal. ¡°But if Pegasi are leased for longer than half a week, we may see the same issue of meddling from Mayoral audits. And on that note, other forms of air-based transportation larger than Drakes will bring even greater scrutiny on this quest, so I will move onto land-based forms of transportation for discretion¡¯s sakes.¡± The guild master paused once more, as if taking a moment to ponder our now-limited options. ¡°We could simply make do with enchanted beasts of burden, enchanted horses and the like, or¡­ if the newrealmer can grapple with such a concept¡­ there is also the option of beastless artifices of transport.¡± They spoke in a manner that was starting to feel more befitting of their station ¡ª that of a Nexian noble. The sense of superiority oozing from their voice was practically palpable, even if their ¡®eyes¡¯ never once shifted from that ¡®neutral¡¯ looking expression. ¡°Okay.¡± I nodded, crossing my arms as I did so, giving the universal expression of ¡®Okay¡­ so?¡¯, before moving swiftly onwards without missing a single beat. ¡°What options do you have for us on that front?¡± The slime¡¯s lack of expressions made it difficult to see just how disappointed he was by my reaction, or lack thereof. So with his baiting tangent out of the way, he continued on, business as usual. ¡°I have connections around town that would allow us to lease the services of anything from a Golem-Steed, to a Mono-treader, the former I believe requires little explanation, but the latter, I assume you to be probably unfamiliar with¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s a giant wheel with a person perched inside of it, isn¡¯t it?¡± I interjected with the bluntness of my earlier rebuff. ¡°Powered by mana or something, or enchanted, or what-have-you.¡± I quickly added, eliciting a moment of silence from the greater slime. ¡°Y-yes.¡± The guild master replied with a certain level of abashment, their entire ¡®face¡¯ turning away if only for a moment. ¡°I will be honest, newrealmer. I am quite¡­ surprised that you would know of such an artifice this early on into your stay within the Nexus.¡± A moment of introspection quickly came following this, indicated by the greater slime turning to face one of the many bookshelves lining the wall behind their desk. ¡°Though it stands to reason that exceptional circumstances tend to follow those chosen by the library¡­ or maybe it¡¯s the other way around.¡± They pondered with a ¡®shrug¡¯, before quickly moving on. ¡°In any case, a mono-treader or a golem-steed. Either would work. I would recommend against anything larger. As navigation through forested and rugged terrain would require the use of a small, nimble, all-terrain mode of transport. A horseless carriage, or any vehicle of four-wheeled configuration, would simply be unsuited for such a task.¡± I took a moment to consider that, as an idea slammed against me with the force of [one] Bim Bim. All-terrain. Small. Nimble. Wheels¡­ I could print out the scouting bike in a pinch if I wanted to. Or heck, even the truck. The latter of which, I swore had to be either intentional, or a sign that I was born for this mission because of its acronym ¡ª the Extended Mobility Mulitrole Vehicle. ¡­ the EMMV, or the ¡®Emmvee¡¯ for short. Though¡­ printing it out was easier said than done. Because given the size constraints of the printer, I¡¯d be committing to a long-term assembly project that was projected to take weeks. It wasn¡¯t like the printer could defy physics after all¡­ so considering its maximum printing size, some assembly would be required. ¡°Put out a listing for the mono-treader.¡± Thalmin replied, pulling me right out of my reverie. ¡°However, I¡¯d put that on the listing as optional. Given the mono-treader is a rather niche artifice, I doubt we may find the adventurers with the skills and experience to use them to their full capabilities within the afternoon. Thus, we should keep our options open, and defer the choice of these supplementary transport options to the adventurers themselves. I¡¯d imagine there would be more than enough adventurers, especially in the Nexus of all places, who can fully take advantage of either an enchanted beast of burden, or a golem-steed.¡± ¡°Noted, Prince Havenbrock.¡± The guild master replied with a nod, taking a moment to quite literally consume a piece of parchment. But before I could even question it, the reason behind this unexpected action quickly became clear. As the slime¡¯s insides began to glow, corresponding to the terms of the agreement being quite literally ¡®printed¡¯ onto it with glowing ink. ¡°Mind you, these supplementary transport options will cost¡ª¡± ¡°The matter of cost is of little consequence to us.¡± Ilunor replied with a haughty breath, as if offended by the topic of additional costs even being brought up. ¡°Very well, my lord.¡± The slime ¡®bowed¡¯ slightly, before turning back towards both me and Thalmin. ¡°For the purposes of transparency and forthrightness, the following is a summary of the terms. From the Offices of the Guild Master, at the behest of an esteemed quest-giver, a mission totalling in five-thousand gold! With guarantees of bonuses in the event of haste, and compensation in the event of grievous and mortal injuries ¡ª a quest to Scout and Report on the whereabouts of the Amethyst Dragon. A deadline of one week is to be observed, with all manner of supplementary transportation provided on the part of the quest-giver. This listing is of utmost priority, and will be removed by day¡¯s end.¡± Thalmin and I turned to face one another for a moment, the mercenary prince nodding once, eliciting the same response from me. ¡°Sounds good to me.¡± I responded promptly. ¡°Then it is settled.¡± The greater slime announced with a deeper tone this time around, clearly playing it up for theatrics, as the piece of parchment vanished in mystical flame from within its slimy insides. ¡°Return by day¡¯s end, and we shall see if fate is on your side.¡±
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. The Fountain of Friendship. Local Time: 0810 Hours. Emma We left the guild hall to the sounds of increased activity. However, instead of adventurers returning bright and early, the flurry of activity seemed to be the result of the tireless efforts of the trainee adventurers, as each ¡®team¡¯ made their way across wooden and cobblestone floors alike with rags and buckets, all in an attempt to keep the space spotless. The EVI had managed to pick up what little chatter there was during all this, and it would seem as if we had become something of the target of local gossip. Though it should be noted that it was a good type of gossip. The type that would¡¯ve earned me brownie points with the diplo-sociological teams back at home. ¡°Those were Academy folk right?¡± ¡°Yeah, students.¡± ¡°And the armored one, that¡¯s a newrealmer right?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± ¡°And they¡¯re splurging this much of their newrealm¡¯s wealth? Just to give it away?¡± ¡°Not just to the guild master, but to the whole guild too!¡± ¡°WHAT?¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°That¡¯s like¡­ really nice¡­ but kinda dumb, right? Like, newrealmers are supposed to play nice with the big bosses, what do they get from blind charity?¡± ¡°Beats me. Didn¡¯t ask. Didn¡¯t wanna risk it. But weirdest part? She gave me food that was intended for her.¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡± ¡°Nuh-uh, just ask Loris!¡± ¡°Loris! Did Garna get to eat noble food?¡± ¡°Yeah! He even shared some with me!¡± ¡°WHAT?!¡± I made a mental note to bring over some of the gastrodiplomacy care packages a little while later. But then again, I had to be careful with divvying and rationing that out for other diplomatic encounters¡­ Besides, I¡¯d yet to hand any out to the gang. Which brought up a very good question¡­ given Thalmin¡¯s superficial resemblance to canines, would he be allergic to chocolate? ¡°We are equidistant from the Tailor¡¯s, the Stationery Shop, and the Sports Supply Store.¡± Thacea began, pulling me right out of my reverie once more. ¡°The alchemical specialty goods store and the wand shop are both a fair ways away, so we should decide between the first three. Do you have any particular preferences?¡± ¡°The tailor.¡± Ilunor and I spoke in unison, garnering a look of suspicion from Thalmin. ¡°I agree.¡± Thacea nodded. ¡°It should take some time before the uniforms are tailored, thus, it would be prudent to strike off that task first, to minimize waiting time later in the day.¡± With a sigh and a reluctant nod from Thalmin, we began moving once more, following Thacea¡¯s lead. Traffic had begun to pick up at this hour, with a noted uptick in horseless carriages, and a significant decrease in the use of any flesh and blood beasts of burden. The sounds of clopping feet still remained however, though its source was decidedly artificial, if the glowing filigree and runes on otherwise stone-carved horses was of any indication. The sidewalks had also begun filling up with people, most of which attempted to ignore me, which brought up a particular question that had yet to be addressed. ¡°I¡¯d thought there¡¯d be way more chatter about my presence here.¡± I spoke cautiously, as Thacea brought up a cone of silence to ensure some level of privacy was maintained. ¡°I imagine there is, Emma. Though it should be noted that your sprint was conducted exclusively within the commoner¡¯s district. Meaning that if there was to be any palpable reaction to your presence, it¡¯d be there rather than here. Moreover, I¡¯d imagine most chatter to be made behind closed doors, rather than out in the open.¡± ¡°Right, makes sense.¡± I nodded, before reaching back to rub the back of my head. ¡°I really need to make it up to the cabbage guy, is all. I haven¡¯t been able to get him out of my head.¡± ¡°A commoner¡¯s plight is none of our concern, Emma. We have more pressing matters to attend to.¡± Ilunor chimed in, prompting me to groan in response, shifting my attention to Thalmin instead. ¡°So¡­ I couldn¡¯t help but to notice that the guild¡¯s higher ups know you by name.¡± I began. ¡°So it would seem.¡± Thalmin nodded. ¡°I presume you¡¯re curious why that is?¡± ¡°Yup, you just pulled the words right out of my mouth there.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°It¡¯s a rather straightforward matter, Emma.¡± The mercenary prince began. ¡°News of a former mercenary house taking command of an entire adjacent realm, being tentatively tolerated by the Nexus, is news that never truly fades away in the minds of those that are themselves merely a less organized, less martial, less cohesive mercenary force ¡ª adventurers.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re something of a celebrity amongst the adventurers, then.¡± I teased, grinning widely as I did so. ¡°Seems like you definitely give Ilunor a run for his money on the prestige and acclaim front, at least when it comes to the adventuring guilds.¡± That bit of teasing elicited another audible hmmph from the Vunerian, as he couldn¡¯t help but to chime in. ¡°Notoriety is perhaps more befitting of Prince Thalmin¡¯s reputation. And regardless, being known amongst the rabble is hardly something to be proud of. For would you rather be well received amongst the ruled, or their rulers?¡± ¡°Both, preferably.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Then you waste your energy and resources on the former, whereas true power lies with the latter.¡± Ilunor shot back. ¡°And therein lies our fundamental disconnect, Ilunor.¡± I sighed back. ¡°Because as I¡¯ve stated before, in my realm, power is derived from the former, whereas the latter only rules on their behalf. But I digress, now isn¡¯t a time to talk about politics.¡± Thacea quickly picked up on this opportunity, as we approached the off-ramp to both our journey and our conversation. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± She pointed at a series of ornately decorated townhouses, each of which seemed to be competing with the other not in the ostentatiousness of its color, but through the striking visual presence of its architecture. But aside from the sheer variety of designs that would make a xenoanthropology team gush in the sheer volume of points for analysis, there was one, practically-identical trend that seemed to tie all of these structures together ¡ª their ground-level storefronts. Because in spite of the angled roofs, complex carvings, and ornate pillars, it was glass that dominated the space immediately next to the sidewalk. The reason for this was quite obvious too, as this was where the decisive final battle would be fought, and where livelihoods would be decided at the whims of the prospective customer. As behind those massive panes of glass, was a crystal-clear view of each store¡¯s magnum opus. Dresses, uniforms, capes, and all manner of attire were put proudly on display here. With mannequins and armatures outnumbering even the pedestrians walking in front of them, all vying for attention from a seemingly disinterested public. It was here, at one particular store, that both Thacea and Ilunor seemed particularly drawn to. One that seemed practically identical to the rest from my undiscerning eye ¡ª Silksong¡¯s Silken Shop. With a wordless nod, as if through some mutual and innate understanding, they both entered the building, prompting Thalmin and I to follow in tow. Ring-Ding-Ding! Came the expected sound of bells jingling upon our entrance. What was definitely not expected however, was the person who quickly came to receive us. A soft buzzing was audible from high above, as a quick glance up through the building sent my aesthetic senses tingling. The whole structure was ostensibly hollow, all five stories of it, with floors that seemed to wrap around the perimeter of the interior wall, with a mish mash of stairs and ladders, along with a utilitarian-looking elevator completing the chaotic vibe. The reason for this rather strange setup would soon become clear, as the buzzing grew louder and louder, until suddenly, a winged creature descended into view. Flying straight out of one of the many doors in the upper levels, pushing through pieces of unfinished fabrics, half-sown cloths, and layers upon layers of excess material, came a humanoid¡­ moth. My immediate thoughts went to that of Ladona. However, upon closer inspection, it was clear that unlike the butterfly¡¯s more subdued insectoid traits, this moth person seemed to be retain more of her insectoid heritage, with spindly legs, thin, fragile looking arms, and fluffy white wings that shifted and fluttered even when on solid ground. It was her face however that really gave off uncanny insectoid vibes, as a thin, yet visible seam divided her face up into two segments, clearly some sort of a mandible. This assumption was confirmed as soon as she opened her mouth to speak. ¡°Ah! Welcome, welcome! Welcome to Silksong¡¯s Silken Shop! The best clothing emporium in town! I am Morfi Silksong, the Hundred-twentieth of my line, and Guild-Certified Seamstress!¡± She raised all four of her arms up high for that extra dramatic flair, her wings expanding wide, knocking over a few of the mannequins at either side of her. ¡°Ah! My apologies for the clutter. My store tends to open around an hour or two from now. We haven¡¯t yet had time to set up, however¡­¡± She paused, her two beady black eyes trailing up and down our group, a cock of her head soon following whatever she was able to discern from that simple observation. ¡°... judging by your manner of dress, and today¡¯s listed occasion, I am more than willing to make an exception, so long as you forgive the rather¡­ unkempt state of my humble establishment, my lords and ladies.¡± She bowed deeply, more so towards Ilunor than the rest of us. ¡°I assume you¡¯re here for the fitting and tailoring of your uniforms?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± Ilunor responded tersely. ¡°Whilst abhorrent and unsightly¡­ it is a matter of duty that we must sacrifice this one point of personal privilege, for the sake of institutional cohesion.¡± He continued, in what could only be described as a tone befitting of a knight announcing his noble sacrifices¡­ rather than a Vunerian yammering about his personal grievances on fashion. ¡°Of course, my lord.¡± The moth responded politely, bowing deeply in the process, as an undercurrent of chittering colored most of her translated speech through the EVI. ¡°This shall take no longer than a half hour for all of you. Although¡ª¡± The moth paused, cocking her head as she made ¡®eye contact¡¯ with me, or attempted to anyway. ¡°¡ªI must ask that you remove your armor, so that measurements can be taken, my¡­¡± ¡°Just Cadet Emma Booker is fine.¡± I finished the moth¡¯s words for her. ¡°However, I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t do that. I won¡¯t get into the specifics of it but¡­ the Academy can vouch for me on that front. The armor stays on.¡± This clearly elicited some confusion in the moth, as she cocked her head once more, chittering all the while, even going so far as to rub both hands together in a bout of bug-like intrigue. ¡°I see.¡± She slowly nodded. ¡°Well, if you are confident in your assertions, Cadet Emma Booker, then I will attempt to accommodate such unique requests.¡± Another pause soon arose as she snapped her tarsal fingers, eliciting the same noise from somewhere high above us. ¡°I¡¯m coming, mother!¡± A voice emerged from deep within the building, as another, smaller, more practically-dressed moth arrived on scene. Landing right next to the nobly-dressed robe-wearing moth, was a smaller moth wearing what I could only describe as a simple set of silken overalls, worn atop of a billowy old-timey shirt, and a red handkerchief-scarf. To say that his fashion sense was questionable¡­ would be an understatement. At least, it would be, to someone from an earlier era. Because by 31st century standards? This eclectic manner of dress was present at almost every street corner. The combination of a millenia¡¯s worth of fashion resulted in a timeless aesthetic that was as much an eyesore as it was commonplace. And I liked it. Though it was soon clear I wasn¡¯t the only one to appreciate another party¡¯s unique fashion sense. As the young moth¡¯s eyes stared at me with a mandible held wide agape, his horned-head bobbing up and down, as if admiring the craftsmanship of the armor. ¡°I apologize for my son¡¯s lack of manners, Cadet Emma Booker, but if you would find it in you to humor both me and the boy, I would like to offer his services for your unique request.¡± ¡°You dare sully our peer group¡¯s name by issuing an apprentice to our order?¡± Ilunor shot back, responding on my behalf, which prompted me to stop him before he could continue. ¡°I¡¯m assuming there¡¯s a reason why you¡¯re offering his services, and not your own?¡± I quickly asked. ¡°I meant no disrespect, my lord.¡± The moth bowed deeply, addressing Ilunor first before turning back towards me. ¡°And indeed there is, Cadet Emma Booker. For you see, my son is actually a prodigy in the art of fashion. Although his particular specialization is of a rather niche variety, and is more often than not overlooked in the grand scheme of things. As he specializes in the art of outer-armor attire, designing surcoats, capes, cloaks, and the sort. Any manner of cloth that is to be accessorized to armor, is his domain, and his alone.¡± The young moth boy stepped forward, staring up at me expectantly with a permanent grin plastered across his mandibles. ¡°Your armor is stunning, Cadet Emma Booker. Truly novel, unique, and quite telling as to your discerning tastes. As such, it would be my honor to design a specially-fitted Academy cloak, befitting of the craftsmanship of your armorers, and the woman beneath the metal.¡± He bowed deeply, prompting me to simply nod once in response. ¡°Whatever you¡¯re selling, kid, I¡¯m sold.¡± I grinned widely, never expecting to actually be hyped up for a trip to the tailor of all places. ¡°Let¡¯s do this.¡± ¡°I am honored, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The boy bowed once more. ¡°Apprentice-Tailor Mifis Silksonng, at your service.¡± The next few minutes would be marked by a flurry of activity, as even more moths emerged from within the building, carrying all sorts of tools, equipment, fabrics, and measuring tapes. It was ironic that one of the most magical experiences so far, was one that barely used any magic to begin with. Thacea, Thalmin, and Ilunor were all quickly shuffled to their own dressing rooms, tended to personally by Morfi Silksong. However, considering that I had nothing to show but my armor, I remained on the ground floor with Morfi¡¯s son, as he began flying around me, taking measurement after measurement of my armor, using anything and everything from measuring tapes to pieces of stray fabric, as it was clear that his muse was quickly taking over ¡ª even going so far as to overcome the politeness of Nexian social conventions. A fleet of moths arrived carrying massive mirrors, as a makeshift tailoring corner was quickly established right there on the ground floor, with rolls of silken cloth laid out and stowed as quickly as they¡¯d arrived from far-off storerooms. It took barely twenty minutes for the right cloth to be chosen, for the design to be cut out, shaped, and fitted to my armor. Barely five minutes more, and a temporary academy pin was used to tie the whole piece together, resulting in a cloak that draped over much of my left arm, my back, and part of my right arm, held together by a brooch just above my chestplate. ¡°Is this to your liking, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The moth tailor asked expectedly, his eyes blinking rapidly in the process. ¡°If it fits Academy regs, then I¡¯m definitely happy with it, yeah!¡± I responded truthfully, garnering a solid nod from the moth as he soon sent the semi-finished product off to depths unknown; carried aloft by a fleet of his moth brethren. ¡°So¡­ I guess we¡¯re done here? I mean, that was rather easy, right?¡± ¡°Indeed it was!¡± Mifis acknowledged, but with a twinge of palpable anxiousness coloring his voice. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker, if I may, and I mean this with no attempt to undermine your authority¡­ but seeing as your compatriots are still being fitted, would it be alright if I continued offering my services?¡± I cocked my head at that. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°Well¡­ I rarely have customers requiring surcoats or armor-centric commissions, especially not with your unique form of armor. I¡­ I would like to humbly request¡ª¡± ¡°That I be your canvas?¡± I completed the apprentice¡¯s request for him, garnering a look of abashment that actually managed to redden his face, as he attempted to look away in shame. ¡°I meant no disrespect, Cadet Emma Booker! I certainly do not wish to imply that I see you as merely a canvas for my foolish attempts at fanciful and short-sighted artistic¡ª¡± ¡°Nono! It¡¯s alright, Mifis.¡± I interjected once more, as I quickly went to grab my tablet. ¡°In fact, I have a lot of designs I have in mind, if you wanna try your hand at it?¡± I quickly went through the digital sketchpad, revealing the doodles I¡¯d made of requests for additional fabric accessories for the armor that never got approved by the higher ups at the IAS. Especially not by Dr. Mekis, even in spite of Captain Li¡¯s pleas on my behalf. Capes inspired by the likes of Inferno Jumpers, cloaks and ponchos inspired by the late Space Ring games worn by Gunnery Chief, and even fashion accessories inspired by the Protectors from Predestination 2. ¡°Here, I¡¯ve been thinking of something along these lines, but¡­ I¡¯m not the best artist, and all of this may be rough, so it¡¯s alright if you take some liberties with the designs. But if you have something else in mind, we could definitely go with your¡ª¡± ¡°I would be honored to bring your concepts to life, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Mifis¡¯ eyes grew wider and wider with each design I showed him, though it was clear he was more drawn to the official character art next to the rough sketches I¡¯d scribbled out. ¡°I will make this work.¡± He reiterated, turning back to me with a wide dumb grin. A feeling of elation hit me right then and there, as I finally started to understand just what my friends meant when they urged me to join them in their shopping trips and fashion hunts. Because while I¡¯d remained adamant on choosing comfort and utility over fashion back home, it was now, with utility being the only forced form of expression I had, that fashion started to become increasingly appealing. More rolls of fabric soon arrived, as did what seemed to be fancy-looking sewing machines that immediately registered as being above the background radiation threshold by the EVI. ¡°Right then! Let¡¯s begin with this¡­ diagonal half-cape with a cowl and hood, colored in geometric patterns of what seems to be a family crest?¡± ¡°My nation¡¯s emblem, but yes. Let¡¯s start with that.¡± I grinned widely in acknowledgement. Chapter 101: Wish You Were Here Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Silksong¡¯s Silken Shop. Local Time: 0930 Hours. Emma A visit to the tailor¡¯s was something of a treat back home. Or at least, it was, to those who sought it out. For most people, clothes were sort of an afterthought, something that could either be grabbed from requisition centers, or printed out on-demand from a near-infinite roster of public-domain designs; only limited by the sorts of fabrics and materials available on-hand. For those living in single-family homes, this meant your standard natural and synthetic materials ¡ª from cotton to synth-weave, to polyester, and the like. But for community printing facilities, like those found in Aunty Ran¡¯s apartment complex, this roster of materials expanded significantly; unlocking even more options to fill your closet to your heart¡¯s content. I, like most, never paid much thought to fashion and clothes, let alone the thought of visiting a flesh and blood tailor for a custom design. The near limitless options at my fingertips, and my general inclination towards comfiness and utility over aesthetics and trends, made that whole idea something of a foregone conclusion. That didn¡¯t mean I didn¡¯t respect the work tailors did, of course. In fact, I could appreciate the novelty and uniqueness of having something that was distinctly your own; something made explicitly with you in mind. Novelty, uniqueness, and artistic expression, were the main drivers of a lot of the excitement of life after all. This was especially true given how human labor, or in this case, creative endeavors, were some of the only things incapable of being scaled up into post-demand excess. There was just something about human passion, and the creative efforts behind a tangible piece of art, that was just so viscerally compelling. This was a fact that I was starting to understand now more than ever. It only took journeying across time and space, realities and universes, to finally get it. And it felt exactly as my friends had hyped it up to be. The entire process from start to finish had been nothing but ecstatic fervor and professional workmanship. It was a sort of controlled chaos that I¡¯d seen from some of my artist friends before. Where the fires of excitement channeled through the spirit of muse was brought to life using the discipline and skills of years of practice and study. We¡¯d chatted, deliberated, enthused and got completely lost in the sheer volume of ideas I had for the cloaks, capes, ponchos, and hood combinations I¡¯d brainstormed on my tablet. This had continued for so long that I barely even noticed how the tablet wasn¡¯t really registering as alien or foreign to the apprentice. When pressed about the subject however, his answer was rather straightforward. ¡°It¡¯s just another form of artifice, right? I just assumed your people had some cultural quirk about hiding manafields. In the same way that your manafields are hidden by that armor!¡± That assumption was¡­ reasonable, given the rules of the reality the moth apprentice knew. And though I did want to reveal everything right off the bat ¡ª fundamental systemic incongruency stood in the way of directly broaching it in any meaningful capacity. Especially when considering the constraints of the tight schedule we had for this town visit. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that it¡¯s an artifice of a certain sort.¡± I replied cryptically. ¡°But not in the way that you think, utilizing a power source and a means of operation that¡¯s¡­ different from how the Nexus does things.¡± The moth apprentice was¡­ reasonably confused. Although, his reactions were decidedly much more muted than Ilunor¡¯s upon first encountering the tablet. Further questioning revealed that he¡¯d barely seen any magical analogues of screens before, citing both his lack of worldly experience, and a lack of access to those sorts of artifices. That would explain exactly why he hadn¡¯t reacted in the same way as the rest of the gang. He just didn¡¯t have a point of reference to begin with. In any case, there¡¯d be a time and a place to slowly ease him into the nature of science and technology. I just needed to make more regular visits to town to do so. Which was certainly fine by me, as it meant more opportunities for me to explore the exciting world of fashion commissions. Speaking of which¡­ ¡°It is done, Cadet Emma Booker!¡± The moth apprentice beamed out. The mandible that dominated much of his lower face splayed out in a manner that would have elicited nightmares from anyone with a fear of insects. However, given the context of his excitement and the constant tippy-tapping of his small feet against the hardwood floors, it was difficult to really see this as anything but genuine glee, with that terrifying visage more akin to a dumb wide grin; as passion and elation had only so many avenues of being vented. A group of smaller moths arrived with the completed outfit in tow, with the Academy cloak already stowed away and packaged in its own box, and the other, more interesting custom cape-cloak-hood hybrid taking center stage in its stead. My eyes grew wide beneath my helmet, as I set my sights on something not just pulled straight from the pages of my sketchpad, but iterated upon with the masterful care of someone who knew what they were doing. ¡°Shall I do the honors?¡± The moth asked, prompting me to nod excitedly in acknowledgement. ¡°Yes, please!¡± No sooner were those words spoken, was the cloak handed off to Mifis, as he began by draping the cloak-cape portion of the outfit over my shoulders. With care and precision, he latched the loose fabric across the upper right side of my chestplate, pinning it together with a simple broach, and adjusting the attached hood such that it was loosely nestled just between the cowl of my armor. When all was said and done, my eyes were treated with what looked to be a cross between a fancifully-cut ceremonial dress cape, and an angular, almost menacing hood pulled straight out of The Running Shadows universe. The cape itself was cut diagonally as it tapered towards the back of my shins, giving the impression of a lighter, more angular geometric silhouette that complemented the grid-like pattern of gold and silver inlays that covered much of its bottom half. Meanwhile, its top half was colored in this gradient of blue, providing a backdrop for the pure-white GUN emblem that took up a good third of its available surface area. With the hood pulled up, my menacing aura was enhanced, complementing my helmet by giving it a dark and mysterious vibe. With the hood pulled down, it gave the vibe of class and style, or at least, a sort of modern and contemporary form of class and style. The unconventional cut of the cape helped to elevate it from becoming yet another carbon-copy of the over-the-top Nexian fashion trends; giving it a distinct human-feel. ¡°This is outstanding work, Mifis.¡± I proclaimed with glee, unable to really pull my gaze away from the mirrors all around me. ¡°It is the hope of any tailor, to have their works be received with such enthusiasm, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± He bowed deeply, prompting me to return the gesture, which was the only point in this entire interaction which actually elicited a certain level of genuine confusion from the moth. This moment of social awkwardness was thankfully interrupted by the ka-thunk of the elevator as it slowly descended from up above, signaling the return of the gang and further fueling the flames of excitement deep within my very core. So this was what everyone was raving about back home. This is retail adventure.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Silksong¡¯s Silken Shop. Thacea Were it not for the moth¡¯s silken words, would I have been spared the follies often seen amongst the undisciplined ranks of royalty and nobility alike. But it would seem that the expert craftswoman was indeed simply living up to her namesake. As not only were her fabrics spun from the finest of silken materials, but so too were her words silken in their intent to lull one into making unnecessary and frivolous purchases. A part of me felt a distinct sense of disappointment in my inability to resist these temptations, likening myself to the unrestrained spendthrift tendencies of my sister. Yet another part of me felt satisfied to have gone through with such a decision, as that sense of spontaneity that I had been self-conditioned away from, suddenly started becoming more appealing for some inexplicable reason. Whatever the case was, I now was the ¡®proud¡¯ owner of another set of flight-friendly dresses. One which promised to rival even those I¡¯d brought from home. Whether or not this was merely empty promises, or a palpable example of Nexian-grade craftsmanship living up to its name, remained to be seen. What wasn¡¯t an uncertainty however, was the result of Emma¡¯s own tailoring misadventures. As the elevator lowered us further towards a familiar, yet strikingly different figure that now stood in the middle of the cluttered emporium. A decidedly dashing figure, which I could not for a moment disengage my gaze from.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Silksong¡¯s Silken Shop. Thalmin All of this was so unnecessary. And yet, as was the case with these web-spinners, I now found myself ensnared in a trap of vapid promises¡­ all excitedly paid for by the blue thing. I¡¯d attempted to refuse¡­ but it was clear that the only thing that would stop the Vunerian¡¯s financial advances would be nothing short of physical threats of violence ¡ª something I couldn¡¯t afford here in public. And so, I now found myself in possession of an entirely new tunic. One that was¡­ admittedly, comfortable. But one that I wouldn¡¯t find myself caught dead wearing. Not especially deep within the Nexus¡¯ all-seeing gaze. This was unlike the Vunerian, who seemed to take it upon himself to commission entire ensembles ¡ª entire sets of carefully crafted outfits which was slated to take not just an entire day, but perhaps even a full week to complete. It was as a result of this, that the Vunerian ¡®settled¡¯ on walking out with a ¡®simple¡¯ new over-cloak and hat. The latter of which somehow managed to make his already gaudy attire even more over the top. And that wasn¡¯t even the worst part. As in addition to the assault on the eyes, my ears too were being chewed out by the constant guffaws that were the Vunerian¡¯s overexcitable reactions to his new article of clothing. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. No topic was safe from being broached. From the ¡®intricacies of the embroidery¡¯, all the way to the ¡®quality and richness of the fabrics¡¯, to color composition theory and even the thread count of the fabric itself ¡ª the blue thing seemed entirely entranced by the seemingly banal and trite. This continued nonstop even as we entered the elevator, Thacea entirely tuning the Vunerian out as it was clear her sights were now set on something else entirely. The object of her newfound interest was made clear as the elevator cleared several floors¡¯ worth of loose fabric. Indeed, it too eventually caught my attention, and even Ilunor¡¯s ¡ª as the sounds of his incessant yappings came to an abrupt and unprompted halt upon seeing the admittedly simple result from Emma¡¯s tailoring sidequest. A piece of outer-armor attire, that was as foreign as the armor beneath it. Yet in its strangeness, and its unconventional cut¡­ there was a stunning presence it managed to convey. One that seemed to stand proudly as a distinct aesthetic completely disconnected from the Nexus and the Adjacent realms. It was as much a symbol of eye-catching defiance, as much as it was an aesthetically pleasing design in and of itself; conveying both power and subdued wealth. It was probably the latter of those two observations that gave Ilunor some pause as his mouth hung agape at Emma¡¯s display. The sheer casualness that she carried herself with, definitely added to the already striking presence of her new appearance. ¡°So, what do you think?¡± She asked nonchalantly.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Silksong¡¯s Silken Shop. Ilunor ¡®My disappointment is immeasurable, and my day is ruined.¡¯ I thought to myself It was one thing to be wealthy. It was another to have class. One¡¯s ability to discern tastes were, first and foremost, seen in the choice of one¡¯s attire. First impressions were, after all, almost always the memories that would dictate the course of one¡¯s public perception. Cadet Emma Booker was for all intents and purposes a commoner. Her world, her people, were all playing at a universal councilorship, perpetuating the silly ideas of nobility amongst the masses. Whilst she¡¯d proven her realm materially wealthy, and perhaps capable of being able to rival that of the Nexus through sheer brute force¡­ wealth itself could not translate to taste and culture. Or at least, that should have been the case. As it was here, within this slice of the Nexus heartland, that I saw another side to the earthrealmer. A side that was admittedly lost to me up to this point given the utilitarian overtures sung by her manaless predisposition. As her armor, her equipment, her dwellings and artifces, all conveyed brutish efficiency in stark contrast to Nexian aesthetic exceptionalism. However, all that changed here and now. Or at least, that¡¯s what first impressions would imply. For all I knew, this could¡¯ve been the distinguished work of the Nexian-trained tailor-apprentice, a prodigy in the making. ¡°Your outer-armor attire¡­ is certainly striking, Emma Booker.¡± I began, garnering the shocked expressions of everyone else in the room. ¡°I assume that all due credit can be given to the apprentice tailor?¡± I announced with a level of confidence, turning my attention squarely to the smaller moth. ¡°You flatter me, my lord.¡± The boy bowed deeply. ¡°However, it would be remiss of me if I took all the credit. For you see, whilst it was I that crafted the physical product, it was Cadet Emma Booker that had conceived of such a design. I merely acted as a bridge between the pages of conceptual design, and the physical result you see before you, my lord.¡± I felt my eye twitch before I could even formulate a coherent thought at that response. ¡°Surely the design is derivative of some ceremonial design, designed for those of higher rank and station.¡± I rebutted, turning towards the earthrealmer. ¡°I¡­ assume that this is a form of ceremonial attire for your commissioned officers, Emma Booker?¡± I managed out under the same confident breath as before. ¡°Whilst we do incorporate capes, cloaks, and the like in our ceremonial uniforms, I¡¯m afraid this one is actually my design, Ilunor. Well¡­ partly at least. I got heavily inspired by a lot of our local media, so I have to credit the design and art teams for their part in creating the aesthetic elements this outfit is based off of.¡± I felt my eyes twitch once more, the response only serving to drain that confidence from my soul as my rational mind refused to acknowledge that fact. That the tasteful and pleasing design before me¡­ was born not from the careful and learned parlors of the nobility, or even from the studios of licensed and chartered commoners. But instead¡­ from the mind of what was a self-admitted typical commoner from Earthrealm.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Silksong¡¯s Silken Shop. Local Time: 0937 Hours. Emma ¡°Actually, there are quite a few issues I have with the design.¡± Ilunor soon managed out, practically shifting his opinions on the design on a dime. A look of apathy and mild disappointment colored every nook and cranny of his expressions. ¡°But I have neither the time nor the patience to entertain the lengthy dissection of your outfit¡¯s shortcomings, as we have other stores to patronize.¡± ¡®You couldn¡¯t have picked a better word if you tried, Ilunor.¡¯ I thought to myself, as I quickly turned towards the moth and her son. ¡°Well I for one applaud Mifis¡¯ expert craftsmanship and vision.¡± I acknowledged, before dipping my head once more. ¡°Thank you for putting the time and effort into bringing my creation to life, Mifis.¡± This once again startled the apprentice somewhat, as he responded with an even deeper bow, prompting me to finally tackle the matter of payment. ¡°So, how much is this going to cost?¡± ¡°Given the novelty of your commissions, and Mifis¡¯ status as an apprentice, it would be customary to waive the cost of any additional item outside of the primary request, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The moth tailor spoke gingerly, gesturing towards my Academy cloak. ¡°After all, it was a learning experience for him, and it would be unfair to charge you for an item that is ostensibly part of his hands-on practice.¡± I nodded in polite acknowledgement, as Ilunor began rummaging through my coin purse. ¡°The five sets of school cloaks should run you exactly fifty gold. This price is a gesture of good faith from our store to your newrealm, and further, a price more in-line with my son¡¯s current occupational status.¡± An affirmative sigh from the Vunerian marked the exchange of coins, as similar to the bakery, the designated amount floated up and into the moth¡¯s open purse in an almost video game-esque sequence. We eventually left the tailor in even higher spirits, as whatever remained of our orders were designated for delivery to the Academy at a nominal fee. The streets at this point had become even busier than before, though only marginally so. The last vestiges of live beasts of burden had since disappeared, now entirely replaced by their golem counterparts, or entirely ¡®horseless¡¯ carriages. Though in spite of the increased traffic, the walk to the stationery shop took no time at all. However, unlike the first part of our morning errands, I could feel a palpable skip in my step. A mix of excitement, optimism, and sheer confidence surged through every step I took, as the novelty and enjoyment of having what was just a simple idea brought to life just refused to die down.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. The Stationery Corner. Local Time: 0945 Hours. Emma A small incline marked our entry into what the locals referred to as the ¡®stationery corner¡¯. Corner, was a rather apt name for it too. As what appeared before us was a small square plaza with a single tree planted in the middle of it. The manicured greenery provided by that lone plant was a stark contrast to the pure white of the whitestone streets, and the grand facades of each and every townhouse-sized storefront dotted around us. Indeed, the vibes at this part of town were on point, with storefronts all facing towards the center of the plaza, giving the place this small, cozy atmosphere; in spite of the grandeur of each of the stores¡¯ facades. It took a few moments, but Thacea was quick to choose one of the many stores crammed into this small space. Upon entering the store through one of the only single-doors we¡¯d seen in this side of town thus far, we were greeted with a highly space-efficient room that clearly didn¡¯t benefit from the ¡®bigger-on-the-inside¡¯ spatial magic of the Academy. Indeed, it gave me massive old-quarter townhouse vibes from the likes of Manila, Bangkok, Jakarta, and a good chunk of the other major cities in the South East Asian Confederation ¡ª where space was at a minimum, and these four-to-five story townhouses still managed to serve their purpose. The skinny, narrow, length-over-width open-plan space was what truly nailed those vibes. The interior design however was exceedingly different, leaning more into the Nexian aesthetic. Or more specifically, what I was starting to categorize as the ¡®tasteful¡¯ Nexian aesthetic ¡ª with carved wood dominating much of the wall facade, trimmings, and even the pillars. Stone was either used sparingly, or hidden entirely by whatever ¡®fancier¡¯ materials were on hand, whilst the floors themselves were thinly cut tiles of various types of rocks arranged to form mosaics or geometric patterns. Thin and tall shelves lined most of the left and right walls, whilst free-standing glass display cases were placed in the middle of the room in three-foot intervals. A ¡®U¡¯ shaped service counter was positioned all the way at the back of the store, but still took up a good quarter of the room¡¯s space, as many more items seemed to be stored behind its glass-topped booths. ¡°Ah! Customers! Please, feel free to take your time perusing my extensive collection!¡± A voice quickly emerged from behind the counter, as the door behind it slammed open to reveal a male elf dressed in what I could only describe as your archetypical ¡®merchant¡¯s attire¡¯. With layer upon layer of silk and gold embroidered fabrics complementing an old gentlemanly face that seemed genuinely friendly, warm, and inviting. We began perusing, unassisted, with Thacea taking the charge as she ran down her extensive list. No sooner after she began reading aloud the items, did another elf emerge from behind the counter, arriving with two baskets in hand, ready to personally assist the princess who seemed deep in thought at one of the display cases in the middle of the store. ¡°We¡¯re going to need both magical and common writing implements.¡± Thacea began, as she gestured towards the glass case, prompting the younger elf who looked to be Larial¡¯s age, to begin unlocking and removing trayfulls of pens; fountain pens to be precise. ¡°I¡¯m assuming the magical pens are what allows you to make those moving texts and whatnot?¡± I questioned, cocking my head in the process. ¡°Yes.¡± Thacea nodded in acknowledgement, grabbing a pen and walking towards what I could only describe as a framed wall face with a thick sheet of paper upon it; littered with names of varying handwriting and styles across it. Next to it, was a small sign, which read ¡ª ¡®signatures and tasteful tributes only please¡¯. A few scribbles punctuated by a mana radiation signature later, and the princess had managed to draw up a list similar to the Academy¡¯s syllabus, with scrolling text moving across at a steady pace. ¡°Right. So, I¡¯m assuming these are just¡­ simple fountain pens with magical ink in them? Or is there more to it?¡± ¡°There¡¯s always more to it, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor chimed in, grabbing an overly ornate pen from within his coat for added effect. ¡°For you see, only nobles may use it to its fullest extent.¡± He began, as he walked towards the wall of canvas, flint sparks flying from the draconic mouth nib when he pressed onto it to demonstrate. ¡°Broadly speaking, there are three distinct forms of magical pens. The first, the quill, is irrelevant to this conversation, as it acts more as a specialized tool or a matter of personal preference, depending on the wizard. The second, is what we both currently have in our hands ¡ª the noble¡¯s pen.¡± He made his first stroke on the canvas, and where I expected the typical rustling sound of pen gliding along paper, l widened my eyes at the sudden fiery growl made by the first stroke. ¡°Simply put, it is a pen designed explicitly to be used through the active manipulation of mana. When combined with magical ink, any number of magical notations may take place. From simple moving text, to animated images if you are so artistically inclined, to a great number of multicolored and iridescent fonts if you so choose.¡± The Vunerian illustrated each of his points on the canvas wall, revealing bright, fiery calligraphies and rudimentary looping animations that would¡¯ve fit right at home in the likes of the early proto-internet. ¡°Meanwhile, the commoner¡¯s pen is a close analogue that attempts to roughly approximate the infinite capabilities of a noble¡¯s pen. However, it only achieves this through the use of dedicated enchantments, allowing it to perform rudimentary enchantments that only manages to capture a sliver of what a noble¡¯s pen is capable of.¡± So sorta like a preset custom profile, rather than having all options unlocked. I thought to myself. ¡°So, similar to the enchanted weapons Sorecar showed me, right? ¡®Commoners¡¯ are able to use them because of their manafields, but only to the extent and limits of its enchants?¡± ¡°Correct, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor nodded smugly. ¡°Right, so, that¡¯s three. What about common writing implements? Like, what if you wanted to write just basic stuff without these gimmicks?¡± The Vunerian¡¯s eyes narrowed at that, as he snapped his fingers at the elven attendant, the elf responding by grabbing him just another typical-looking fountain pen. ¡°Basic writing implements are indeed still quite common, especially for those commoners who find themselves unable to afford magical writing implements. These too can be divided into two sub-categories. The first, being enchanted, and the second being unenchanted. The enchantments in this case aren¡¯t made to facilitate the use of magical ink, but are simply done in order to fix the inherent flaws and limitations of fountain pens. Though frankly, most commoners without the means rarely have the ability to afford such luxuries, simply resorting to leaking, filthy, messy, and rather unintuitive ink-hungry pens.¡± It was at that point that a lightbulb moment hit me with the force of [two] Bim Bims. My hand instinctively reached towards one of my pouches, unlatching it, to reveal a simple, time-tested, likewise timeless writing tool. A design which revolutionized the world and left it changed forever ¡ª the humble ballpoint pen. Ilunor¡¯s eyes narrowed at the thin, sleek, tube. A look of knowing concern quickly forming, if only to be replaced by that same haughty persona. ¡°Is that supposed to impress me, earthrealmer?¡± ¡°Not in the flashy or showy sense, no.¡± I responded. ¡°Sometimes, it¡¯s the more humble innovations that speak for themselves. In fact, a lot of times, it¡¯s these silent, almost invisible and cheap background objects that redefine a world as much as the next great technological breakthrough does. For what this simple object did, was to provide an entire world, regardless of socioeconomic status ¡ª a means to write.¡± I took a moment to pause, as I turned towards the canvas wall Thacea had written on moments ago. Pressing my hands towards it, a part of me quickly realized just what this moment meant, as I paused and pulled my hand away just for a split second. Aside from the dreaded attempt at subversive coercion that was the yearbook, this was the first time I¡¯d be writing on a public record. This was the first time I¡¯d be putting pen to literal paper, making my mark on an alien world, in an entirely different dimension. It was with that realization that I took a moment to actively think about what went on there, as all pretenses of showmanship slowly faded away to a more poignant train of thought. ¡®This world, as messed up as it was sometimes, was a final frontier meant to be explored by you.¡¯ ¡®You were so excited for the prospect of being the first. Director Weir constantly reminded me of just how similar we were in both of our pioneering passions.¡¯ It didn¡¯t take long at all for me to realize what, or rather who, deserved to be written out. The logs, interviews, and journals all still played out loud and clear in my head, as I now stood in a position that would have otherwise been his. So, with a firm grip, I finally put synthetic pen to magic paper. On a blank space surrounded by animated scripts, infused with magical flourishes all vying for a uniqueness with the intent of one''s-upmanship, I scrawled down a simple message in English. Wish you were here, Pilot 1. Chapter 102: The Pen is Mightier than the Wand My hand flinched as soon as I finished writing, causing the complex orchestra of servos, motors, and actuators to stop dead in their tracks. I took a moment to pause, to bring up my ¡®hand¡¯ and the pen held dexterously between its fingers halfway up to my face, as one thought resonated loudly within my head. ¡®This moment, and everything leading up to it, could¡¯ve been his.¡¯ From the deepest depths of defeat. To the highest peaks of victory. From the formation of bitter rivalries. To camaraderies forged in fire. From the flightiest flights of fantasy, all the way down to the most grounded of grounded mundanities. All of it was supposed to be his to live out. But that opportunity was taken from him. What¡¯s more, he didn¡¯t even get to experience the thrill of finally making it through that portal. His death happened so quickly, that he didn¡¯t even get to process a glimpse of this new world. ¡­
¡°It¡¯s always difficult being the second. Especially if you overshadow the first.¡± Captain Li¡¯s words reverberated deep within the confines of my mind. ¡°It¡¯s even more difficult when you know they didn¡¯t even get the chance to reap the rewards of their sacrifice. Not even a single second of it.¡± He stated in that unmistakably inspiring cadence, during a conversation tackling this very topic. ¡°Being the second means you stand upon the shoulders of the first. And from what I can tell, these giants definitely wouldn¡¯t want you to be wallowing in self-conscious indecision because of them. If anything, they¡¯d want you to live on, to carry the torch they fought tooth and nail to keep alive. Because in their death, they¡¯d want nothing more than for their legacy to be lived through the next torch-bearer. So that no matter the case, Prometheus¡¯ flame spreads further through their actions.¡± ¡°And so consumed by his flame, we honor their sacrifices, by tending to the torch of progress ¡ª until we too become fuel to the fires of Prometheus.¡± I recalled finishing that quote for him. ¡°You quoted Jackie Setanta for a reason.¡± ¡°Am I that obvious?¡± He replied with that signature sly grin. ¡°Yes¡­ the historical allegories are just too painfully similar to ignore.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the Jackie Setanta to Pilot 1¡¯s Jebediah Herman.¡± He spelled it out. ¡°The latter barely even realized he¡¯d broken the light speed barrier, while the former went on to finish the first warp expeditions, and then some¡­¡± I quickly rebutted; the whole comparison never sat right with me. ¡°I¡¯d rather we not make any comparisons before I even have a single accomplishment under my belt.¡± ¡°A fair decision, but my point still stands ¡ª you shouldn¡¯t feel guilty for assuming the role Pilot 1 was meant to play, Emma. If anything, you should focus on getting the job done, and giving it your all. That¡¯s how you honor those who came before, and whose shoulders you now stand atop of. You¡¯re already halfway there by understanding the gravitas of being at the very top of the unbroken chain. And I know that you¡¯re more than capable of bridging the other half, if not outright exceeding it.¡± ¡°I aim for nothing less, Captain.¡±
¡­ ¡°That script¡­ I¡¯m assuming that¡¯s your native language, Emma?¡± Thacea inquired with a soft coo, pulling me right out of my reverie as I turned to face her with a swoosh of my cape. ¡°Yeah, it is.¡± I nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°What does it say?¡± Thalmin quickly added. ¡°It¡¯s a tribute.¡± I began. ¡°Just a short little tribute to my predecessor who wasn¡¯t able to survive the journey. A man whose role I now fill, and through whose sacrifice, I owe my very existence here in the Nexus to.¡± ¡°The first earthrealmer student.¡± Both Thacea and Thalmin surmised simultaneously, their voices dipping down into a more somber tone. ¡°I respect the thoughtfulness, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged, craning her head to the wall. ¡°He would¡¯ve been proud to have handed the banner over to you.¡± Thalmin spoke with a dip of his head, prompting me to respond in kind. ¡°I can only hope so, Thalmin.¡± I responded with a sigh, before turning towards Ilunor who had now seemingly ransacked the store, piling up pens at practically every available countertop. This inexplicable development was bracketed by the elf attendant standing powerlessly on the sidelines, looking on with a polite service-worker smile that clearly hid the abject horror brewing just beneath the surface. It was clear he had something to say, but couldn¡¯t for what was worryingly becoming obvious to me ¡ª Nexian social conventions. However, this didn¡¯t mean his plight was left unnoticed, as a rustling from behind the U-shaped service counter marked the arrival of someone who did have some degree of authority to confront the Vunerian. ¡°Forgive my impudence for intruding on your self-directed quest, my lord.¡± The older elven merchant finally approached, having exited his little closed off service counter, carrying with him one of those jeweler¡¯s trays but modified with notepads and inkwells built into its casing. ¡°But is there any way I could help narrow down our wide selection of guild-approved pens to match your discerning preferences?¡± He inquired, dipping his head low, and successfully defusing Ilunor¡¯s frantic search for whatever it was he was looking for. ¡°Perhaps you can.¡± Ilunor responded snappily, crossing his arms in the process. ¡°Tell me, oh stationery-proprietor, do you perchance have within your varied stock ¡ª a pen capable of writing on a vertical surface without smudging? With the ability to effectively control the flow of ink? And without the need to study the form-of-use?¡± This question seemed to take the man by surprise as he began gesturing to a good chunk of the pens Ilunor had dredged up. ¡°We¡­ do, my lord. In fact, what you describe is standard for¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªI know it¡¯s standard for enchanted and magically-attuned writing implements!¡± The Vunerian interjected with a loud huff, before quickly moving on. ¡°But what I meant was a pen of the unenchanted variety. A basic pen, with the same aforementioned capabilities.¡± A series of rapid-fire blinks from the elf punctuated the clearly unexpected set of requirements outlined by the Vunerian, prompting the man to simply go silent in confusion, then disbelief, before actively shifting to a look of genuine contemplation. ¡°Of the unenchanted variety, my lord?¡± The man reiterated, garnering a sharp and wordless nod from the Vunerian. ¡°Forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds, my lord, but¡­ would you not wish for¡ª¡± ¡°Do you or do you not have such a pen, shopkeep?¡± Ilunor halted the man¡¯s deflection in his tracks. ¡°I do not, my lord.¡± The man bowed deeply, his tone shrinking back down to one of deference. Ilunor went silent at this, his eyes shifting towards the entire store full of expertly crafted artisanal pieces, all of which were clearly destined for the offices of royals, nobles, merchants, and anyone affiliated with the upper crust. And only the upper crust. ¡°And why exactly is that?¡± I inquired suddenly, finally putting my hat into the ring much to Ilunor¡¯s chagrin. ¡°No offense, of course, but I was just curious as to what the limiting factor here is.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not so much a limitation as it is a¡­ purposeful choice, my lady.¡± The man bowed deeply in my direction, though decidedly not as deep as he did towards Ilunor. ¡°To put it simply, the guilds simply do not see it as an avenue worthwhile of being pursued. The craftsmanship you would need for such an unenchanted implement is simply far too great when you consider the existing contemporary solutions. From enchanted ink, to enchanted diffusers, all the way through to individually and distinctly enchanted mouths, seals, rods, shrouds, knobs, and even the nib itself ¡ª there is a near infinite number of conventional solutions to the ¡®problems¡¯ presented by writing implements of the unenchanted variety. If anything, creating an unenchanted item of comparable quality would be horrendously more costly, and would possess very little in the way of customizability and magical function when compared to enchanted pens of comparable cost. It would be¡­ a novelty item at best, and a lackluster dust-collector at worst.¡± That answer shouldn¡¯t have surprised me. If anything, it more or less fit in line with the Nexus¡¯ narrative. Because when magic was so readily abundant, and when the social structures existed to both propagate and draw from its use, these developments were not just expected¡­ but inevitable. Advancement oftentimes trends towards the path of least resistance, before solidifying into tradition and convention. The small and rather niche field of pen-making seemed to embody this trend of ¡®magical shortcutting¡¯ to a tee. Yet despite falling in line with what I expected, seeing it in action in a real world setting outside of the Academy, was another thing entirely. However, whether it was just culture shock or an uneasiness that formed from the reaffirmation of the stratified stagnancy of the Nexus, one thing remained certain ¡ª the mini entrepreneur within me was begging me to dive deeper. ¡°So, I¡¯m assuming that because it¡¯d be quite expensive to craft something so precise and novel, you¡¯d be alienating the very people who¡¯d be in the market for an unenchanted pen?¡± I reasoned, garnering a solid nod from the merchant. ¡°Precisely, my lady. It would make little sense, as given the addition of a modest sum, one could simply elect to purchase from one of our many enchanted pens.¡± ¡°I see.¡± I nodded, as the gears of commerce began to turn within my head, leaving some vacant dead air that Thacea deftly swooped in to fill. ¡°In any case, given the school does require us to purchase Nexian-made stationeries for our coursework, we should at least attempt to¡ª¡± ¡°Done.¡± I replied, turning towards Thacea as I grabbed one of the scant few choices available for typical unenchanted pens. ¡°You know I can¡¯t interface with enchanted items anyways, so I might as well grab one of these.¡± I shrugged. With a nod from Thacea and Thalmin, and a silent look of worrisome contemplation from the Vunerian, we soon went to work gathering the stationeries required of us as per the course syllabus. It was during this time of contemplative silence on Ilunor¡¯s part, that I began taking stock of my surroundings some more. The store definitely gave me a lot of that artisanal store vibes from back home, what with seemingly everything being handmade or assembled in some way. From shelves stacked with leather, hard-paper, and even what appeared to be flexible stone-bound notebooks, to various office supplies that seemed almost like a more fantastical version of what you¡¯d find back on Earth, the quality and attention to detail of every item was indeed impressive. You could visibly see and feel it in the binding of the books, all the way to the stenciling of the covers, and the lining of the actual paper within. Whether a result of the charm, or the tourist factor, I eventually found myself lost in the rows of unnecessary and superfluous accessories; ensnared by their empty but compelling promises of improved organizational efficiency granted by their unnecessarily one-note use cases. Though all of this expert ¡®guild-approved¡¯ craftsmanship definitely came at a cost¡­ and a fiscal one at that. With Thacea racking up a good fifty gold in bills, Ilunor a good seventy-five, and Thalmin a more modest ten. My own bill stood somewhere in between, a solid twenty-three gold, and as with the case in the bakery and tailor¡¯s before ¡ª Ilunor quickly unlatched my purse, allowing the gold to fly right into the man¡¯s expectant purse. ¡°Delivery to the Academy will be at my expense, your highnesses.¡± The man bowed deeply, leaving us with the cleanest shopping experience thus far, but more importantly¡­ with an idea that was difficult to dislodge from my head now that it¡¯d taken root. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. With the wealth cube effectively worthless for purposes of trade, and with my winnings rapidly dwindling with every item purchased, a gnawing feeling of financial worry started to creep up on me; despite alternative options available for me to tap into if I was so inclined. I could easily leverage Ilunor¡¯s debts and our current arrangements to have him act as my personal piggy bank. However, I wasn¡¯t about to get into some complicated personal favor-debt dynamic if I could avoid it. Moreover, whilst Thacea did seem to be an amenable ally, mixing requests for monetary aid into the equation too quickly into our relations was a questionable path towards the establishment of any long-term goals of a viable alliance. This left the matter of financial self sufficiency up in the air. At least, it did, until this seemingly innocuous exchange promised to fundamentally skew that equation forever. There was an opportunity here to fill a gap in the market that would not only serve to fill my coffers, but had the potential to revolutionize the lives of commoners across the board. At least, as it pertained to literacy, and the accessibility of writing. Because the first real hurdle was the procurement of the tools for writing. For without a readily available supply of tools, there was little hope in the consistent practice necessary for literacy. The ramifications of this idea ramped up with each passing step, reaching its precipice just as we crested the store¡¯s exit. This was where the EVI picked up a stray conversation from the store¡¯s apprentice, as he pointed out my errant tribute on the framed paper-lined wall. ¡°Grandfather, I believe this warrants further observation.¡± He began, garnering the older merchant¡¯s attention as he moved in to scrutinize not the foreign language or the questionable handwriting behind it, but the nature of the tool behind it. ¡°Consistent lines, no signs of blotching or bleeding, and furthermore¡­ no signs of latent mana.¡± He noted with increasing suspicion, grabbing what seemed to be a steampunk-esque mana-filled device from his waistcoat, placing it over the area of interest. ¡°Manaless ink¡­ from a manaless writing implement.¡± His eyebrows quivered, locking onto me, just as I left the store to the open-mouthed look of disbelief from the stationery store proprietor. Till next time, Mister Stationery Store Proprietor, when I put together a business plan¡­ I thought to myself with barely contained glee.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Goltan¡¯s Glowing Glasswares. Local Time: 1120 Hours. Emma It¡¯d been a good few hours since the stationery shop. And despite the wonderful world of glass that would¡¯ve put both OSHA and insurance providers into a state of catatonic shock, I found myself incapable of really caring about much in the store. The whole place was very pretty, with insane works of glass of all shapes and sizes available for purchase, but it was otherwise somewhat lackluster when compared to everything else I¡¯d experienced thus far. Maybe it was because of the pen idea still swirling around in my head. Or perhaps it was my anticipation for our upcoming appointment at the adventurer¡¯s guild later in the day. Whatever it was, we quickly wrapped up our trip to the glassware store with little in the way of drama, though with plenty of close calls expertly prevented by the EVI, given how I¡¯d yet to have adapted to life with a cape. Suffice it to say, my adrenaline was consistently spiking in that insurance deathtrap of a store, and I was glad to be rid of it the moment we stepped back onto the now-busy town streets. It was around this time that things seemed to be really picking up, as the streets were now packed with not only the locals, but with Academy students from all year levels and peer groups. Many of them seemed to be following the gauntlet we¡¯d started out our day with, as we passed by crowds of eager customers lining up around the likes of the tailors¡¯, and filling up the narrow interiors of the stationery plaza townhouses. Whilst many seemed to be entirely busy amongst themselves, the few that weren¡¯t engaged in some form of conversation quickly shifted their attention the moment their eyes landed on me. It took a moment for me to get it, but following the direction of their gazes, it was clear exactly what had reignited their fixations on me. ¡®That¡­ wasn¡¯t there before, now was it?¡¯ ¡®No. No it wasn¡¯t.¡¯ ¡®It would seem as if our newrealmer has grown something akin to a fashion sense.¡¯ ¡®Or at least, what passes as fashion given her insistence on wearing that atrocious suit of armor.¡¯ ¡®Beggars can''t be choosers, Lady Ciata.¡¯ ¡®I dispute that. This seems less of an attempt to mask, as much as it is an attempt to complement existing aesthetics. This is¡ª¡¯ ¡®Don¡¯t you dare compliment those rags.¡¯ ¡®Perhaps consider your own realm¡¯s fashion sense, before insulting my tasteful critiques, Lady Ladona.¡¯ ¡®How dare you, I will¡ª¡¯ ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± Thacea announced, cutting off the EVI¡¯s juicy long range acoustic scans, as we neared the final Dean-mandated stop. The wand store. Looking around, it seemed as if the storefront was almost entirely devoid of students. If anything, the street seemed more akin to the early morning traffic than the current afternoon rush. Though that made sense. Given the context of what wands were, and the baggage they carried. The front of the store seemed to reflect this notion, as it lacked much of the expensive and ostentatiously expensive flare of the rest of the stores we¡¯d visited so far. If anything, it looked more like the sorts of stores you¡¯d find in British heritage high streets. Tasteful, ornate, but not in your face as a lot of Nexian architecture was. ¡°Subdued.¡± Ilunor commented, more or less pulling the words right from my headspace. ¡°Quite.¡± Thacea acknowledged, as we all entered without much in the way of fanfare. The interior of the store was more cluttered than the outside would¡¯ve led one to believe. As display cases and boxes stood side by side, along with what appeared to be your standard fair fantasy chests, and floor-to-ceiling shelves that were stuffed to the brim with tiny, individually labeled boxes, all in varying degrees of yellowing. A sudden whirring of metal wheels on a well-oiled track responded to our presence promptly after we entered, as in no time at all did the proprietor of this establishment appear, dusty tweed waistcoat with dress shirt and all. ¡°Ah! Customers!¡± He announced with desperate glee, his wrinkled and shaky hands gripping the ladder-on-wheels with excitement. ¡°Please! Make yourselves at home, my lords and ladies! Please!¡± He huffed out, taking one careful step after another, descending down a ladder firmly affixed to a track built in front of the shelves. ¡°Welcome to Olli¡¯s, the first and most renowned guild-licensed proprietor of wands in Elaseer.¡± He proclaimed, before bowing down to each and every one of the gang, and then singling me out entirely. ¡°I¡¯ve been anticipating your arrival for a long while now.¡± The elf spoke cryptically, walking out from behind his counter to ¡®inspect¡¯ me closely. ¡°Hmm¡­ it¡¯s just as I¡¯d expected, if not so much worse.¡± He paused, taking a moment to eye me closely with a dusty monocle. ¡°You are in need of a very special wand.¡± The man smiled brightly. ¡°And I think I just might have the wand for you, my lady.¡± He quickly walked off behind the counter once more, reaching up high towards one of the many haphazardly stacked boxes. ¡°A wand chooses their mage. So it is very important that we pick out one that fits your precise needs.¡± ¡°Here!¡± He spoke excitedly, his hands carefully extracting the wand wrapped within, before pushing it close to my face. ¡°Try this.¡± ¡°Erm, I¡¯d actually like to just buy the cheapest wand you have? Trust me, I¡¯m the last person who needs specialized tailoring for when it comes to¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m afraid that won¡¯t be possible.¡± The shady grey-haired elf disputed ominously, his hands incessantly intent on handing off the ornate and expensive looking stick to me. "You see, the prices of my wands aren''t simply conjured on a whim! No, not at all. For you see, wands attune themselves to the mage they deem as kindred ¡ª congruous with their nature." "And that means...?" The wandsmith wiggled a brow, all too eager to reply. "Like streams of water flowing unto aqueduct paths, the mage is to a wand. Though piteous as it is, not all streams flow downhill, hence wands of higher caliber tend to resonate to the challenge. From you, I sense a deep, hidden well that I know for certain my wands can plunge into and extricate!" While the words ironically flowed from the man like a master explaining their craft, I can''t help but think if the craft in question was for wand lore or for tourist trap rumormongering. I refused to budge however, simply staring down on him with two unfeeling red lenses. This staredown between incessant and ominous magical salesman and a completely indifferent suit of manaless armor continued for a good full minute before finally, one of us relented. ¡°Please?¡± He asked politely, prompting me to finally take a hold of the wand¡­ Only for nothing to happen. ¡°Well, go on then! Try giving it a wave!¡± The elf urged. ¡°Sir, if I may reiterate, you have to trust me when I say that literally nothing will¡ª¡± ¡°Just a little jostle!¡± He continued, garnering a grunt of annoyance from my end, as I wiggled and swung around the wand to little to no effect¡­ Save for the swooshing of the air of course. The gang watched on with varying levels of interest, with Thalmin barely being able to contain a grin, Thacea maintaining her signature regal resting face, and Ilunor in that perpetual look of frustrated disinterest. ¡°Well¡­ it would seem as if the whispering hazel core might not be properly attuned to you, my lady. But if you would allow me to¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather not, Mr. Olli.¡± I interjected with a frustrated sigh. ¡°I¡¯d just like to leave with the cheapest wand you¡ª¡± ¡°At least allow me to try the phoenix feather core?¡± He urged. ¡°It¡¯s certain to elicit something of a response! I am certain of it!¡± ¡°Fine.¡± I relented. ¡°If it means you¡¯ll finally get that all of this is an exercise in futility, then let¡¯s just get on with it.¡± ¡°Fantastic!¡± The man beamed, running to the back to the tune of some serious rummaging, before returning with a literal armful of wands. ¡°I have twenty-one variants of the feather core, short of just one of the twenty-two distinct breeds of phoenixes I¡¯ve managed to poach!¡± ¡°Do I want to know what happened to the last one you sold?¡± I reluctantly asked. ¡°I don¡¯t remember every wand I¡¯ve ever sold, Cadet Booker. But I know in my heart that all of them have gone on to be used for great things. Just as I know you will go on to do great things.¡± The man offered with a bright smile, bordering somewhere between a whimsical wandsmith and a hard-sell salesman. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡± I exhaled, grabbing one of the many wands the man had littered across the countertop. ¡°Alright.¡± I announced flatly. ¡°Here goes literally nothing.¡± With an unenthusiastic swish of my arm and a flick of my wrist¡­ a sudden swelling of wind began to swirl around as daylight seemed to slowly focus its rays directly onto me. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 120% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Mortis¡¯ Mage¡¯s Essentials. Local Time: 1430 Hours. Emma ¡°From the looks of it, and forgive my bluntness here ¡ª it would seem as if the man was attempting to scam you.¡± The water elemental spoke over a cup of piping hot tea, her undulating form leaning against an upholstered seat with a company of fishbowls, each housing a single perpetually-smiling axolotl. ¡°Yeah. It was¡­ not the best first impression, I can certainly say that much.¡± I offered, holding my own mug of piping hot boiled leaves that probably smelled incredible if Thalmin¡¯s reactions were of any indication. Not that I could tell given the helmet and all. ¡°I am afraid that guild certification does not directly correlate to chivalry or virtuousness, my lady.¡± The water elemental ¡®dipped¡¯ her ¡®head¡¯ slightly. ¡°And for that, I sincerely apologize for the poor first impression left by my contemporary.¡± ¡°Eh, it¡¯s not your fault, Lady Mortis. Please don¡¯t feel obligated to apologize; especially not on his behalf.¡± I replied earnestly, leaning against one of the many reinforced armchairs within this quaint and honestly homely reception area. Homely, being an apt descriptor for what this place actually was. As we found this place smack dab in the middle of a row of unassuming residential townhouses, and would¡¯ve completely walked past it were it not for Thacea¡¯s keen eye, spotting the only real giveaway as to what this place actually was ¡ª a mixed-use storefront. A wand store, to be precise. Mortis had confirmed that this arrangement was indeed unconventional. And for the most part, you¡¯d be hard-pressed to find a mixed-use storefront-townhome combo without any obvious signage or indication as to the items being sold within. It was difficult to stand out when in a residential street, after all. So most store owners still tried their best to make it obvious that their property was indeed a store for potential customers passing by. But not Mortis¡¯ store. And that was the point. The lack of any real boundary between where the store ended and her home began was very much intentional, and part of a philosophy I hadn¡¯t at all considered. Because according to Mortis, being a wandsmith wasn¡¯t at all the profession of a salesman or merchant, but instead, a role which sat somewhere closer between that of a healthcare provider, teacher, and spiritual guru. ¡°The selection of a wand¡­ is a difficult and time-consuming process.¡± The elemental reiterated, pulling me out of my reverie as my eyes were overwhelmed by the sheer ¡®grandma-esque¡¯ aesthetics of the place, what with all the baubles and knick knacks strewn about; not to mention the multicolored soft things and plushies. ¡°It is oftentimes an emotionally daunting process, one that inherently brings up difficult memories of a life led with less of a manafield compared to one¡¯s peers. For you see, Cadet Booker, the world is a cruel and unforgiving place for those who do not conform. And as much as many may believe that things get better the higher up you go in the social strata, the fact of the matter is that this social pressure only increases with each stripe of the social pyramid.¡± The elemental paused, getting up as she began refilling the cups of tea Ilunor had been slowly, but consistently sipping on. ¡°This is because nothing short of excellence is demanded from Nexian and Adjacent nobility, a fact that extends not only to the intellectual and cultural pursuits, but the magical pursuits as well.¡± She continued, only to disengage for a moment to grab another tray of biscuits sitting just out eyeshot, straight out of what seemed to be a cast iron oven. ¡°To be born with an¡­ immature or incomplete manafield, as they say, is a sentence for a difficult and oftentimes painful childhood. This means that the sorts of questions and interactions we must have as a wandsmith, will most certainly infringe upon painful and troubling insecurities. It is thus the duty of a wandsmith not only to act as the purveyor of wands, but also as a shoulder to lean on, and a bulwark of acceptance in the midst of uncertainty. This is the practice of holistic wandsmithing, a philosophy that I wholly subscribe to.¡± I nodded along during the explanation, as the elemental gave me something the previous shady salesman didn¡¯t ¡ª time to absorb and ponder these developments at my own pace. ¡°With all that being said, are there any questions you wish to ask before we begin, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡°Indeed there is.¡± I nodded. ¡°Whilst I do appreciate the hospitality and your time, I¡¯m afraid I won¡¯t be needing much in the way of a fancy or expensive wand. I just need the basics, just to comply with the Dean¡¯s requirements.¡± I shrugged. ¡°I respect that.¡± The water elemental responded tactfully, much to my surprise. ¡°I am assuming that none of the wands the previous wandsmith handed to you managed to resonate with you, yes?¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ simply that none of them would resonate with me, ma¡¯am. The armor I wear more or less makes that an impossibility.¡± ¡°So it would seem.¡± The wandsmith nodded, her axolotls all staring at her with anticipation. ¡°Perhaps there is something we can do. Something that fits your definition of ¡®basic¡¯.¡± She continued, lifting up a hand, as one of her axolotls floated across the room, grabbing a hold of a wand sticking out of what looked to be a well-organized stationery cabinet. ¡°Let me ask you this, Cadet Emma Booker ¡ª do you have difficulties in perceiving manastreams and manafields?¡± ¡°Yeah, I do, actually.¡± I nodded. ¡°Then I may just have something to help with that.¡± The elemental spoke warmly, prompting her army of axolotls to smile brightly in unison. Chapter 103: Mana Resonance Imaging Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Mortis¡¯ Mage¡¯s Essentials. Local Time: 1445 Hours. Emma ¡°I believe this may be of help, Cadet Booker.¡± The elemental spoke warmly, her crowd of floating axolotl-like pets maintaining their signature perpetual smiles, with one in particular attempting to hand me a sizable wand for its diminutive size. To say that I had my doubts would¡¯ve been an understatement. To say that my interest wasn¡¯t piqued would also be a massive lie. This was because unlike the previous sleazeball, Mortis actually seemed intent on helping, rather than profiting off of my apparent ¡®need¡¯ for a wand. Moreover, the fact she wasn¡¯t overpromising anything, and actually attempted to cater to my requirements was also nothing short of a complete departure from Olli¡¯s business practices. What was being discussed here was actually within the realm of possibility. If anything, it boded well for one of the EVI¡¯s current pet projects ¡ª the development of a ¡®mana-sense visualizer¡¯. So if the Nexus truly did have something already cooked up for that very issue, then that might just help bootstrap development significantly. Work smarter, not harder was something I lived by after all. I held out my hand, allowing the little axolotl-frilled lizard hybrid to drop a wand just about half its size onto it. Almost immediately¡­ nothing happened. ¡°Nothing?¡± The wandsmith inquired softly. ¡°Nope, like I said, I don¡¯t have a manafield to interface with.¡± ¡°Your armor being in the way I presume¡­¡± Mortis rationalized out loud, before reaching out a hand to physically tap the wand¡¯s tip. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 250% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Not a moment later, following a mana radiation warning, did the etched filigree along the stick begin to glow; pulsating with a soft ethereal light. This pathway of light all culminated at the very tip, which glowed bright and began dancing through various colors; sort of like an RGB rave stick. This continued for several moments, until suddenly, it stopped ¡ª maintaining a simple white glow. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t get how this is supposed to¡ª¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ALERT: VARIABLE TEMPERATURE SURGE DETECTED. I stopped in my tracks as I felt the wand tugging my hand, as if urging it to move. ¡°Allow it to guide your hand, Cadet Booker.¡± Mortis instructed with a motherly tone of voice, coinciding with the tip of the wand turning a deep red. I nodded, doing as instructed, following the wand¡¯s physical pull towards the direction it seemed almost magnetically attracted to; its force increased with every degree I turned until suddenly it stopped. At which point, I was face to face with the source of its almost magnetic attraction, and its sudden shift in both color and brightness ¡ª the Vunerian¡¯s flame breath. ¡°That¡¯s how it¡¯s supposed to work, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The Vunerian spoke with his signature smug grin, his smarmy tone of voice egging me on, but failing to elicit a reaction as my excitable mind was assaulted with a torrential downpour of ideas; my rational mind stepping in to stop it just short of an earth-shattering realization. ¡°Quick question¡­ I¡¯m assuming the range of this thing isn¡¯t limited to say¡­ this room right? Or even this building?¡± I blurted out, garnering a warm nod from the wandsmith. ¡°That is correct, Cadet Booker. Though the pull of the wand is proportional to the strength of the spell being cast. However, with enough training, you could very well become attuned to any slight tug or pull. Thus, a definitive ¡®range¡¯ of effect as it were is difficult to discern, as it depends on the training of the mage.¡± This seemingly simple and straightforward answer suddenly opened up the floodgates¡­ allowing for my mind to be swamped with ideas, as that earth-shattering realization quickly evolved into something else entirely ¡ª an indescribable draw to innovate. We¡¯d just skipped several major milestone¡¯s worth of grueling R&D in a single stroke. ¡°EVI¡­ I think we¡¯ve just unlocked a boost to the mana-radiation sensory analytics and detection system¡¯s (M-RSADS) range and accuracy.¡± I spoke excitedly at the EVI. ¡°Amongst many, many more upgrades and boosters¡­¡± My eyes were now locked onto the object. My hand, my real hand just beneath the base of the armor¡¯s wrist, trembled with not shock, but raw, and pure excitement. We were finally making progress! ¡°Do you have any further questions, Cadet Emma Booker¡ª¡± ¡°So I¡¯m assuming this thing has¡­ two? Three primary modes of use?¡± I shot out excitedly, my former tone and cadence evaporating almost instantly, as urgency filled every ounce of my voice. ¡°Its physical tugging corresponding to the localization of a given surge in mana, er, the direction a spell is being cast from?¡± I began, as I practically shot up, taking a step towards the water elemental. ¡°Its brightness corresponding to the intensity of the spell being cast?¡± I took another excited step, my face beaming with excitement. ¡°And its color¡­ I guess it corresponds to the type of spell being cast?¡± It was around this point that Thacea moved up towards me, grabbing me by the shoulder and staring at me intensely. ¡°Emma, please. It''s quite unbecoming of you to¡ª¡± ¡°Oh please forgive her, your highness.¡± Mortis interjected with a raised hand and an amused chuckle. ¡°This is to be expected from those near-blind to manasight. It¡¯s a reaction I don¡¯t often see given how manasight is still present amongst even the most severe of immature mana-fielder cases. So to see this once again, to witness my creations helping those in need¡­ it sparks great joy in my old, old heart. Because this is what I live for.¡± The water elemental stood up, her axolotls staying behind as she placed a single hand on my shoulder. ¡°I live to serve those in need.¡± ¡°Oh, the earthrealmer definitely needs help, that¡¯s for certain.¡± Ilunor chided with a bemused grin. I ignored him, of course, as my attention was focused solely on the wandsmith. ¡°And to address your earlier questions, Cadet Booker, you are indeed correct on all counts.¡± She nodded deeply, sidestepping Ilunor¡¯s chides like a river parting against an immovable rock. Her indifference to him, perhaps a hint as to her own noble heritage. ¡°However, there¡¯s also this¡ª¡± The water elemental stepped back, grabbing one of her floating axolotls, as the wand began shifting between various fixed colors. ¡°¡ªthe fish bowl¡¯s ability to float is a result of a fixed enchantment. Though you must be relatively close to an enchantment in order to ascertain its presence.¡± I nodded along intently, not once interrupting as I awaited every ounce of sweet intel the wandsmith had to offer. ¡°However, I am afraid this is the limit to what the wand can offer.¡± She announced with a heavy and regret-filled breath. ¡°This wand was, after all, designed with the integration of a mage¡¯s manafield in mind. And as a result, these features we¡¯ve just discussed, are moreso adjacent accessories to its main function.¡± ¡°Its main function is to somehow allow you to better visualize manafields and manastreams, I imagine.¡± I offered, garnering a nod from the elemental. ¡°Correct. It does so through a process we call mana resonance.¡± She began. However, no sooner did those words leave her mouth, did I begin to internally chuckle. ¡°So¡­ I guess you could say it images the world around you through mana resonance.¡± I managed out with a barely contained chuckle. ¡°In effect, it¡¯s¡­ Mana¡­ Resonance¡­ Imaging?¡± ¡°I suppose you could phrase it that way, yes.¡± The wandsmith nodded congenially. ¡°It¡¯s certainly a¡­ novel way of phrasing it.¡± She continued, before getting back on topic. ¡°Mana resonance relies on the wand itself to directly augment into a mage¡¯s manafield. Following which, it draws from a mage¡¯s mana-stores directly, generating a series of continuous mana resonance streams, with the intent of gently impacting local manastreams and manafields. Following impact, there is the expectation that some of this generated resonance will in a sense ¡®bounce¡¯ back towards the wand¡¯s direction; creating a sort of shadow-imprint of the manafields and manastreams around it.¡± ¡°Sorta like SONAR, LIDAR, radar, or echolocation.¡± I spoke internally, towards the EVI, as the virtual intelligence responded with an observation of its own. ¡°More accurately ¡ª an entirely new medium of feedback imaging.¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± I responded inwardly. ¡°So¡­ do you think we can make something of this, EVI?¡± ¡°The latter requires integration with a system I do not possess, so its feasibility-for-integration (FFI) is non-existent. However, further studies on the functional operation of Object of Interest #0072-1a: ¡®Wand¡¯ may provide insight into the creation of a novel sensor array utilizing similar principles in integration with preexisting mana-detection sensor suites.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what I was thinking. We now have an existing, working principle to base our tech off of. So instead of shooting in the dark, we now have a clear path to work towards. With that being said though¡­ do you think you could work on a quick patch to our existing mana sensor systems?¡± ¡°Clarify: ¡®PATCH¡¯.¡± The EVI replied bluntly. ¡°The wand¡¯s ¡®accessory systems¡¯, and the potential for it to augment MRSAD with just a little bit of good-old fashioned jury-rigging. The intensity feature may be a bit redundant, but it''s the other two that¡¯s game changing. From increasing our range of spotting localized mana radiation bursts, to what is arguably most game-changing ¡ª determining the precise type of spell being cast ¡ª we¡¯ve just gotten our shortcut into a next-gen sensor suite. But given how we can¡¯t just integrate it directly into the suit¡¯s systems, I was thinking of a sort of patch, an¡­ analog to digital conversion algorithm or something, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°A system to interpret OoI#0072-1a¡¯s analog outputs into viable sensor-data via physical and visual feedback?¡± ¡°Precisely.¡± I responded just as bluntly. ¡°And maybe a purpose-designed housing unit or something too. Like a gyroscopic ball, or maybe a permanent housing compartment on the ARMS, or heck, maybe we could even tape it onto the helmet¡¯s sensor kit!¡± ¡°OoI#0072-1a¡¯s sensitivity and specificity parameters are still unknown.¡± The EVI responded a-matter-of-factly, sidestepping my latter suggestions entirely. ¡°Further testing will be required to determine whether integration will impact the Minimum Acceptable Margin-of-Error Thresholds for Mission-Critical Systems.¡± ¡°We can do that. Moreover, that brings me to another point¡­¡± I quickly shifted my attention, and my mic output, back towards the wandsmith. ¡°Lady Mortis? I do have another question, if that¡¯s quite alright with you?¡± I began politely, garnering a soft nod from the water elemental. ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Well, I was just wondering¡­ does the wand come with like¡­ an instruction manual or something? I¡¯m assuming that because the colors correspond to various spell types and such, that there¡¯s gotta be a reference to tell what each color represents?¡± ¡°I am afraid that this is where your education comes in, Cadet Booker.¡± The wandsmith responded with all the warmth of maternal wisdom. ¡°Your classes will cover all forms of magic eventually. It is now up to you, as a pupil of the Transgracian Academy, to learn this for yourself. Because remember, this wand, this dowsing rod, is a means with which to empower yourself as a mage; there are no shortcuts towards that end goal.¡± She smiled, before settling back in her seat. ¡°Moreover, given that each wand is functionally unique in its creation, the various colors it generates may be wildly different. Thus, a universal catch-all system is very much impractical. After all, a wand is an extension of a mage, and not a simple tool or implement.¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Right.¡± I acknowledged with a frustrated breath, just as the EVI pinged me with another pertinent point I¡¯d almost entirely overlooked. ¡°Further iterative analysis on the practical potential use of OoI#0072-1a is available for preliminary report.¡± ¡°Give it to me briefly, EVI.¡± I spoke inwardly. ¡°There is a potential alternative use-case scenario for the ¡®intensity¡¯ function of OoI#0072-1a. Analysis of its luminosity indicates a variable gradient increase in intensity upon detection of a static spell comparable to logarithmic-scaling models. Preliminary iterative analysis suggests that a visualization-aid could potentially be modeled and overlaid atop of the HUD, allowing for a rudimentary form of mana-field visualization, albeit limited to static spells and with a significant drawback attributed to delayed scanning frequency.¡± ¡°Huh¡­ I can¡¯t believe I almost overlooked that.¡± I admitted. ¡°Keep working on the iterative analyses on the wand, EVI. We¡¯ll have loads to talk about when we get back to the tent¡­ and potentially a lot of housing and casing units to print out as well.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°You are a bright and motivated individual, Cadet Booker.¡± Mortis spoke reassuringly, as if interpreting that sudden bout of dead air from her perspective as a loss of confidence on my part. ¡°That much is certain. As such, I have no doubt that you will be able to master the use of this wand. And in time, it will become as much a part of you as any one of your own senses.¡± ¡°I appreciate that, Lady Mortis, thank you.¡± I dipped my head down in respect, before a few other practical matters entered my head. ¡°There¡¯s actually another point that needs to be addressed. You said that it typically draws power from a mage¡¯s mana stores right? But given my situation, how do I¡ª¡± ¡°Within the wand is a storage basin for a mana-vial, Cadet Booker.¡± The water elemental interjected. ¡°It is capable of operating independently from a manafield as a result. Moreover, given you are only using its accessory functions, a single mana-vial should last you a fair bit of time.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± I nodded once more, before shifting my attention towards my purse pouch tightly cinched on Ilunor¡¯s belt¡­ and the now-empty tray of biscuits next to him. ¡°Would you care for more tea or snacks?¡± The water elemental inquired. However, before Ilunor could respond, I quickly chimed in to stop what would otherwise be another bottomless buffet of baked goods. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be taking much more of your time or hospitality Lady Mortis.¡± I responded politely, garnering a fiery glare from the deluxe kobold. ¡°So¡­ as much as I hate to segue into this, I¡¯m curious as to how much this will run me?¡± ¡°Given the¡­ uniqueness of the wand, and the lack of its contemporaries, its current value is just about two-thousand and fifty gold pieces, Cadet Booker.¡± The wandsmith replied as tactfully as she could given the massive price tag. A price that absolutely gutted me inside and out. However, before I could even respond, the water elemental suddenly conjured up a piece of paper ¡ª a parchment that I immediately recognized as a contract. ¡°However, I do recognize the difficulties that being a newrealmer brings.¡± She began compassionately. ¡°In addition, I can only imagine how difficult life at the Academy would be given your condition. The last thing I would want to do would be to place upon you such a large financial burden. As such, I am willing to offer you a deal, Cadet Booker.¡± Here we go¡­ I thought to myself. Let¡¯s see what messed up contract you have for me now, Nexus. What¡¯s it going to be? My soul? My loyalty? My service or some weird messed up clause like Ilunor¡¯s whole¡ª ¡°I am willing to settle for an upfront down payment of one-thousand gold, followed by four successive installments to be paid at your leisure.¡± Mortis proclaimed warmly, placing down the contract in front of us, with little more than a few paragraphs worth of plain, straightforward text. The entire gang almost immediately went to town on the document, with Thacea¡¯s keen eyes, Thalmin¡¯s discerning glare, and Ilunor¡¯s distrustful visage landing one every letter of every word. A few minutes passed, before each of them gave me their individual go-aheads. ¡°Alright.¡± I nodded. ¡°I think we can settle on that.¡± I continued, before reaching for my pen to settle the deal. The lack of magical ink, or any surge of mana radiation made it clear that this was perhaps the first actual contract to be signed without any hidden shenanigans, once again reaffirming the rather straightforward nature of the agreement. And following a flow of coins from my purse to the water elemental, the whole thing was settled. Mortis stood up almost as soon as the transaction was done, as she grabbed one of the fanciest boxes I¡¯d ever seen to date ¡ª a literal marble and granite box with glowing golden filigree ¡ª from one of the shelves. Following this, she gently reached for the wand, and placed it inside the masterfully carved interior of the box, the whole thing settling seamlessly into its confines. ¡°Whilst it may sometimes seem as if the world is a merciless cliff face incapable of being scaled, know that this wand, and my services, shall forever be by your side to at least offer some respite amidst the seemingly impossible. Magic, after all, is the refuge of the dreams of the sapient. Do not let anyone rip that dream away from you.¡± She spoke confidently, before handing the box to me with a reassuring smile; one that was mirrored by her army of axolotls. I dipped my head deeply at that, as despite all the highs of excitement swirling through my mind, one errant thought came through in spite of its banality. ¡°I don¡¯t imagine you¡¯d have a bag for this?¡± I blurted out.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Boutique Boulevard en route to The Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall. Local Time: 1525 Hours. Emma We left Mortis¡¯ Mage¡¯s Essentials with not only a renewed faith in the wandsmithing industry, but with a strange sense of warmth and satisfaction that was only dampened by the cost it took to acquire said wand. The investment, despite being an exchange for an item worth more than its weight in gold ¡ª quite literally given its price ¡ª was bound to pay off though, in ways I could¡¯ve never previously imagined. ¡°So what¡¯s next, princess?¡± I turned to Thacea with a skip in my power-armored step. ¡°We¡¯ve purchased all that is required of us from the course syllabus.¡± The princess responded following a thorough double-checking of her planner. ¡°Which means we should be headed back to the adventuring guild.¡± Thalmin surmised. ¡°Precisely.¡± Thacea reaffirmed, but not before something across the street managed to catch my eye¡­ The building was unlike any other on the block. In fact, it seemed to stand significantly taller than most. This was primarily due to a quirk of its construction, one that I wasn¡¯t at all expecting ¡ª a literal wizard tower piercing through its angled tiled roof, completely divorcing it from the rest of its neighbors¡¯ uniform height limit. The whole thing looked like one of those weird post-post-post-modern architectural messes, combining architectural elements that didn¡¯t at all seem like it belonged, if only to draw your attention to just how weird it all was. And to its credit, it worked. As despite the admittedly ugly choice of stylistic choices, it stood out. And that¡¯s where they get you. Because the longer you stared at it, the more the weirdness kept going, with off-kilter windows, doors plastered several stories up on the facade, and even animated miniature golems of dragons, wyverns, and all sorts of flying creatures circling the narrow and spindly wizard tower. ¡°What¡­ the heck is that?¡± I pointed towards the unwieldy structure, only to earn a collective sigh from everyone. ¡°A souvenir shop.¡± Ilunor muttered out under a dismissive breath. ¡°A den of useless knick knacks and tacky paraphernalia that is as creatively bankrupt as it is devoid of talented craftsmanship.¡± The Vunerian continued, practically turning his nose up at the whacky establishment. ¡°Huh.¡± I responded with a growing sense of curiosity. ¡°Say, Thacea¡­ do you think we can squeeze in one impromptu visit into our itinerary?¡± The princess¡¯ features immediately shifted to one of disappointment, as she crisply flipped through her planner, if only to return a glance that only a mother could give to a child asking to stop at a drive-through. This was where my helmet came at a disadvantage. As I couldn¡¯t employ the puppy-eyed pleading that¡¯d worked so well for me in the past. But that didn''t stop me from trying though. ¡°Please?¡± I pleaded. ¡°A quarter hour.¡± Thacea responded with a despondent breath. ¡°And please try your best to restrain yourself from any impulse purchases, Emma.¡± ¡°No promises, princess.¡± I shot back with a sly chuckle, dragging the rest of the gang along with me for what I¡¯d file in my report under ¡ª Field Cultural Research. ¡­ Appropriately enough, the first thing that caught our attention was the revolving door that rotated on a horizontal axis. We arrived to find a store that had somehow perfectly balanced themed quirkiness with mercantile practicality, these traits personified by a service counter decorated with a bunch of curiosities protected behind luminous glass that seemed to glow brighter the closer we got to them. Maybe it was a security feature, but the lighting also seemed to serve as spotlights for these items. The most eye-catching thing in this section was without a doubt the gigantic turtle shell that rested atop a wide velvety pillow. The shell had an earthy color, but was polished instead of rugged, the lips of it lined with a plush fabric. The carapace scutes were pointed and slicked back, each one tipped in crownings made of various precious metals; brass on the outermost, silver in-between and some gold caps in the middle portion. Quite honestly, I was surprised that this of all things wasn¡¯t behind any glass. The whole place gave me theme park souvenir shop vibes, with tastefully themed corners that seemed to be referencing cultural and regional themes that I simply was not privy to. Each little ¡®section¡¯ seemed to be built with aesthetics and features that were supposed to be representative of a given region, and it was clear some of them were far more impressive than the rest. With the first among these being what I could only describe as a volcano and lava themed region, with the floorspace of that little nook covered by a thick layer of glass, covering what appeared to be flowing magma beneath the floor. Within this little themed area, were all sorts of, as Ilunor put it, useless knick-knacks. Ranging from little animated postcards, to painted plates and its accompanying utensils. Next to that, were what I could only describe as little snow globes that had fully animated volcanoes within them, expertly detailed and dynamically moving. I picked one up, instinctively shaking one, causing the little world within to shake and rumble ¡ª leading to a volcanic explosion that covered the entire globe in a thick goopy sea of red hot magma. ¡°I¡¯m afraid if you shake it, you buy it.¡± A boisterous but firm voice emerged from one of the many corners of the close-to-cluttered room. We looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, before hearing a series of thoomps from the counter up front. Approaching us slowly, rising from what appeared to be a nap, was the encrusted tortle-like-turtle with an equally ornate cane in his hand. ¡°IIIII only jest, of course.¡± He corrected himself, yawning out the first word before making a dry chuckle. ¡°Those things reconstruct after an hour or so. Or immediately if you put some mana into it.¡± He eventually gestured for me to return the lavaglobe, which I did so without question. ¡°Where are my manners¡­ my name is Baronet Kathan Kafkan, the eternal proprietor of this fine establishment.¡± The man bowed, or at least, he dipped his body as much as he could given the encumbrance that was the shell. ¡°I take it you are all first years?¡± ¡°Indeed we are.¡± I replied matter of factly. ¡°I see, I see.¡± Kathan adjusted the fabric along the lip of his shell, winding his neck as if to admire his vast collection of knick-knacks. ¡°Hmmm¡­ my vendibles must have some enticement to your eyes if you¡¯ve come to take an ogle. Feel free to discover the wonders collected from many worlds, my youths of esteem. I¡¯d be happy to share the histories of what you come across¡­ oooor just simply package them aptly without a word to waste if you so choose.¡± While that seemed a bit glum, the turtle chuckled at the humor he found in it. ¡°Actually, I do have a question about the building itself if you don¡¯t mind?¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Well¡­ it is quite distinct from the rest of the structures in town. If anything, it feels almost out of place. I was wondering if there¡¯s¡ª¡± ¡°A story behind that?¡± The man interjected with an excitable smile. ¡°Yup, precisely.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°It¡¯s simple, really. This establishment existed prior to the incorporation of Elaseer into the ranks of the Crown Heralds.¡± He announced proudly, a sense of pained nostalgia coloring his voice. ¡°Thus, the entire ambassadorial district was built around me.¡± He continued, his arms raised as far as they could, pointing his gem-encrusted cane towards the ceiling. ¡°Therefore, I, among a handful of others, was partially spared from the strict zoning laws of the district, save for, of course, the dreadful off-white paint scheme the crown seems to be so insistent on forcing upon us all.¡± ¡°So you were grandfathered in, essentially.¡± I surmised. ¡°Correct, newrealmer.¡± He nodded, then just as swiftly took the opportunity to introduce the rest of the various knick-knacks on offer. ¡°Though you can rest assured, my wares do not reflect that fact. Unlike the stocks of a certain wandmaker.¡± He spoke with a wink, gesturing towards more of the extensive lineup across what he¡¯d begin to refer to as the various ¡®core regions¡¯ of the Nexus. ¡°From the eternally spiteful region of the Brimstone Expanse, eternally burning from the righteous fury of His Eternal Majesty¡¯s final stand against the forces of evil.¡± He started from where we stood, before gesturing for us to move along with him on this impromptu field trip. ¡°To the infinite archipelagos of the boundless seas.¡± He raised his arms wide, towards what I could only describe as the ¡®sealand¡¯ portion of the souvenir shop, complete with a whole wall of snow globes depicting not just sunny seaside towns, but what appeared to be ships, flotillas, and entire fleets. Indeed what drew me in wasn¡¯t the detail of the models in and of itself, but rather, the actual types of ships on display. As unlike the caravel-like ship from Thacea¡¯s sight-seer, what was on display here appeared to be a wooden vessel without sails or seams. In fact, the wood almost seemed to be melted into a solid mass. And in the place of sails, there appeared to be additional masts, each of which towered high and ungainly above the ship, almost to the point of unwieldiness, reminding me of those rotor ships from the mid twenty-first century. ¡°What sorts of ships are those?¡± I inquired, pointing at a particular ship-in-a-bottle about half the size of Ilunor. ¡°Standard royal merchant mariner craft, employed by many of the maritime kingdoms and duchies.¡± The tortle explained, gesturing towards the model in question. ¡°To your newrealmer eyes, a vessel this large without sails or oars must be quite foreign to you. But to our discerning Nexian eyes¡ª¡± He paused, adding emphasis to the Nexian nature with a grandiose tone that hid well the humor he meant to convey. ¡°¡ªthis sort of vessel is indeed quite common. It relies not on the power of sail, but instead, a combination of the ambient power of mana and the enriched mana-stores provided by the graces of nobility. A truly magical vessel, for a magical age.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I nodded, my eyes going over the EVI¡¯s frantic logging of every ounce of intel there was to scrounge from this interaction. ¡°That¡¯s certainly interesting alright!¡± ¡°Indeed it is.¡± The old man nodded, as we moved onto other regions seamlessly, going from icy tundras, to expansive taigas, to great canyons, and then finally, towards what appeared to be Ilunor¡¯s mountain kingdoms. However, before we could arrive, my eyes landed on what appeared to be a neglected portion of the store. One that was stacked high with I could only describe as¡­ ¡°Are those plushies?¡± I asked, gesturing towards the large bean bag-like slime, and the hoard of soft plushies atop of that. With the one sitting atop of the whole pile¡­ being what was undoubtedly¡­ a Vunerian. Chapter 104: Retail Therapy The Vunerian and I were caught in a standoff. My eyes locked onto its beady little black sown-on dots-for-eyes and the rounded little muzzle that kept it in a perpetual look of mouthless contemplation. My emotions refused to settle, as I was forced to reconcile between the massive cognitive dissonance between the disarmingly adorable orb-of-a-plush that was the Vunerian, and its doppelganger standing incredulously next to me. This forced my eyes to do several double-takes between the inexplicable object of my burning interest, and the comparably life-sized less-cuter version of it forced upon me by fate and circumstance. However, the physical similarities between the two didn¡¯t die down with each cock of my head. No. If anything, they only steadily increased. From the proportions of the stuffed plush, all the way to the color of its fabric, and the shape of its head, and even the little outfit it wore ¡ª it was undeniably designed to resemble a Vunerian. The only real difference between this orb and Ilunor, was the addition of a little sewn-on miniature crown two sizes too small for its rounded head. This bygone conclusion was quickly confirmed by the tortle proprietor himself; the man taking a moment to address my non sequitur of a question. ¡°They are indeed plush in form and factor.¡± He confirmed, giving a smile yet quirking his brow, almost confused. ¡°It would seem to me that my lady has a certain affinity to the top-of-the-pile item in particular?¡± He gestured towards the Vunerian plush. ¡°These stuffies are indeed quite the coveted collector¡¯s item, Viscount Vunerian in particular being in short supply as of late.¡± The man paused for a moment, and with a surge of mana radiation, began lowering the plush down from its perch atop of the plush pyramid. The laid-back hard-sell tactic continued as I was presented with the orb-of-a-Vunerian that was Viscount Vunerian, or, as I was dying to call it¡­ ¡°I think I¡¯ll call him King Kobold.¡± This seemed to be the last straw as the Vunerian stomped his way between me and the tortle, raising an arm towards the plush in the process. ¡°You will do no such thing. His name is Viscount Vunerian, and I will hear no more of this spiteful slander!¡± He seethed between a soot-filled breath, before turning to the tortle proprietor with an ultimatum. ¡°Shopkeeper. I demand that you return it. The newrealmer is clearly not deserving of such a coveted item.¡± However, instead of the situation escalating into yet another silent standoff, the opposite quickly transpired. As the shopkeeper began letting out a series of ragged-breathed laughs, completely defusing the Vunerian¡¯s attempt at intensifying the situation. ¡°I am but a humble shopkeeper, my lord. Withholding an item for purchase, is outside of my authority within the jurisdiction of crown herald lands.¡± The man replied with an almost faux-piety, as if straddling the line between expectant decorum and his own brand of senile joviality. ¡°It is up to the fair knight, whether she wishes to follow through on my offer.¡± This prompted the Vunerian to grumble, turning towards me with an expectant glare. I could practically feel the burning, scathing warnings given off through that gesture alone. But they were warnings which I would not heed. ¡°I¡¯ll take it!¡± I beamed out, squishing the plushy tightly between my hands as I could just about make out the soft squishy polyfill and gel-like stuffing within it through my gloves¡¯ haptic feedback; a soft, airy, pathetic sounding squeeeeeeeek being generated in the process. ¡®Your worship pleases me!¡¯ It squeaked out pathetically. ¡°It has a fricking voice box?!¡± I uttered out in excitement, going for another big squeeze! ¡®Guards, off with their tails!¡¯ ¡°This is incredible.¡± I cackled out through an ear-to-ear grin, finding my whole body jittering in the process. This realization, of course, warranted another big squeeze. ¡®Taxes are due! I demand my taxes!¡¯ ¡°Emma¡­ I believe this may just be a tad too much.¡± Thacea cautioned, gently gesturing to the now-steaming deluxe kobold next to me. Thalmin, however, clearly had other ideas in mind, as he moved up to pat me on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m curious to know what manner of muse inspired such a flavorful impression!¡± He proclaimed through a wide-eyed grin. ¡°ENOUGH!¡± The Vunerian finally exploded, releasing a continuous flurry of steam from both of his nostrils. ¡°Either forfeit your purchase, or be done with these displays of immature impulsivity!¡± I took a moment to once more exchange glances with Ilunor, my hand firmly clenched around the plushie¡¯s belly. Surprisingly, the ultimatum wouldn¡¯t come to an end by my own hands, but by another, unexpected set of clawed fingers ¡ª as Thalmin came in to gently poke the rounded thing¡¯s belly, generating a prolonged squeeeeeeeek in the process. ¡®Fear my ire, beware my wrath!¡¯ ¡°Well what do you know, I think he pulled the words right out of your mouth, Ilunor.¡± I chuckled lightly, before handing the plush off to the tortle. ¡°I¡¯ll take it!¡± ¡°Splendid! I shall have it packaged post-haste.¡± The man announced, gently handing the plush over to a satyr assistant who¡¯d skittered onto the scene not a few moments after the back and forth began. With the first knick-knack in tow, I feared what impulse purchases might come next. Though a part of me remained excited for the prospect of Field Cultural Research, as we moved deeper into the store, to the tune of a grumbling Vunerian. We eventually arrived at a section of the room with what looked to be a sight-seer book perched precariously on a plinth, flanked on three sides with a series of multicolored curtains that radiated a not-so-insignificant amount of mana. Though somewhat unnerving and looking like it¡¯d be more at home at some cultish ritual, the display case on the very front of the plinth completely undermined and defused what threatening aura it had. As within this case, were a series of what I could only describe as¡ª ¡°Are those postcards?¡± I shot out. ¡°Indeed they are, newrealmer.¡± The tortle responded, before gesturing to the setup with a venerable smile. ¡°For this ¡ª is the imbuer of dreamscapes.¡± He announced proudly. ¡°An artifice which imbues your likeness upon a predetermined landscape of your choosing, with whichever pose you wish to make at the time of the imbuement.¡± ¡°A false-shard.¡± Ilunor announced, as if intending to further expand on the tortle¡¯s talking points. ¡°An intentional fake for that matter. A simple novelty with the intention of providing a fleeting moment of vapid entertainment to those possessing poor tastes, or simple inclinations.¡± The Vunerian hrrmphed, turning his nose up at the whole affair. However, by the time that he¡¯d finished his tirade and turned back towards the setup, the Vunerian would find both me and the mercenary prince already posing behind the plinth ¡ª the tortle following suit with what appeared to be a wand in his hands. The look of disappointment on Ilunor¡¯s face was immeasurable, and I could only imagine if this simple act of ¡®poor taste¡¯ was enough to ruin his day. Regardless of his personal reservations on the magical photo booth, Thalmin and I were downright having fun, as a mutual creative spark seemed to arc between us through nothing more than simple knowing glances. This was in spite of the obvious encumbrance in the way. So with little more than body language, we began vibing, cycling through pose, after pose, after pose ¡ª going from simple hand gestures, to parallel arm-raising, all the way to more complex and involved stances that required coordination that came in the form of just winging it and hoping for the best. The goofiest and most involved of which, involved what I could only describe as an inverse parallel ¡®dab¡¯ that bordered somewhere between a videogame emote and a genuine gym-approved flex. Though not everything was mindless whimsy, as all the while, the EVI maintained careful overwatch over the ¡®mechanisms¡¯ of the photobooth. The plinth and the precariously perched sight-seer book seemed to act like a ¡®camera¡¯, one that Kathan seemed to control with his wand, creating brief surges of mana radiation that were capped off by bright flashes of light seemingly emerging from within the curtains themselves. Following each surge, and after what sounded like the crackling of sizzling pork belly being cooked in a cast iron pan, came the final product of our mutual whimsy ¡ª a postcard, with our silly poses doctored onto it. Interestingly enough, the postcard actually cycled through several of our poses, even going so far as to change the ¡®time of day¡¯ within the background; sort of like a digital photo album. Though despite the obvious changes in time between each pose, it appeared as if almost all of the backgrounds seemed to either remain perpetually cloudy, or lacked any visible specks of starlight within the night sky. All in all, the photobooth ended up consuming a good fifteen minutes of our lives, though it appeared as if Thacea had fared somewhat better than Ilunor ¡ª as the princess actually spent her time browsing and appraising the hand-made knick-knacks with some degree of amusement. ¡°Aaaaand that should be all of our most popular ¡®destinations¡¯.¡± Kathan spoke through an amused grin. That little announcement clearly elicited Thacea¡¯s attention, as she walked forward to ¡®collect¡¯ us from our little side quest, only to be roped in by my eager arm as we committed to just one more photo. However, before we could continue, I couldn¡¯t help but to let out a sigh, urging an otherwise haughty Ilunor to join us. ¡°No, earthrealmer, I refuse to take part in these impetuous acts of tasteless¡ª¡± He stopped in his tracks, letting out one yelp, as I reached out to grab him once he came into arm¡¯s reach. Following which, Thalmin soon took over chaperone duties, holding onto his squirming form as I attempted to strike something of a pose with Thacea. A countdown quickly ensued following this. As in little more than¡ª ¡°One¡­ two¡­ three!¡± ¡ªwas the photo snapped. A small sizzling later, and our peer group was immortalized with Elaseer in the background. With Ilunor squirming under one of Thalmin¡¯s arms, the aforementioned prince holding as confident of a triumphant pose as he could given the circumstances, whilst Thacea remained almost entirely removed from the chaos in a more ¡®reserved¡¯ Victorian pose, separated from Ilunor and Thalmin by me, connected only by my arm draped across her shoulder. Two ¡®V¡¯s formed on each of my hands concluded the chaotic ensemble, as I couldn¡¯t help but to grin at the finished product. ¡°This is incredible work, Kathan, thank you.¡± I proclaimed with a wide dumb grin towards Kathan, the turtle once more going for a big bow, only to be interrupted by Ilunor who took one good look at the photo and grumbled. ¡°If we are going to commit to such childish plays¡­ then we are going to do it right. I demand a re-imbuement!¡± ¡­ 15 Minutes Later ¡­ The souvenir shop crawl continued with a preoccupied and absent-minded Ilunor. The Vunerian followed behind, flipping through the stack of postcards ¡ª of which he paid for ¡ª eagerly debating to himself of which one he looked the best in. We passed by not just novelty snow globes this time around, but little figurines of various mythical creatures, scale-models of anything and everything from coaches and wagons, all the way up to impressive spires and castles. The largest of which took up an entire section of the room, hidden behind a curtain to make its reveal all the more impressive. With a height about two physical stories tall, and a width and thickness that spanned a good twenty or so meters at its widest point, the scale ¡®model¡¯ was massive. However, that sheer massiveness wasn¡¯t just surface-level either, as Kathan was more than eager to open up the thing using a series of spells, cutting away through the sheer bulk of it like a knife slicing straight through a layered cake; revealing the living guts within. The most impressive feature being one that Ilunor yawned at ¡ª the plumbing. As a cutaway showed that even that aspect was taken into account, giving the whole structure almost too much realism.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. This architectural marvel that looked to be a cross between the great European cathedrals of old, and some grand ancient megastructure like the pyramids, was later revealed to be an actual replica of some crownlands noble ¡ª a fact that Ilunor was surprisingly reluctant to continue touching upon as we eventually moved towards the final few novelty items of the store. One of which seemed to be your bog standard mirror. Though Kathan insisted through a joking breath that it was in actuality: ¡°The Magic Mirror of Desire.¡± A magical artifact that apparently, did exactly as was promised on the label. Upon being asked how it worked, the man simply shrugged and replied cheekily. ¡°Why don¡¯t you take a gander in the mirror? Perhaps the answers you seek shall appear within.¡± Sure enough, the mirror did nothing for me. However, when Thalmin approached, its surface immediately began swirling. A sense of curiosity hit me, as we were all drawn to the sights and sounds the strange artifact was emitting, until¡ª ¡°Swords. You are looking¡­ for magical swords!¡± A disembodied voice spoke, as the mirror quickly shifted to reveal what looked to be an elven blacksmith in front of a forge. ¡°You look like a strapping young lad! Ready to fight, ready to tackle the world! What you need then, is a manasteel sword, enchanted and mana-shaped, from Banvardi¡¯s forges! At Banvardi¡¯s, we have all manner of weapons at your disposal! From polearms to greatswords, to battle axes and war scythes ¡ª at Banvardi¡¯s ¡ª the only limit to lethality is your willingness to kill!¡± We all blinked rapidly at what was effectively just a¡ª ¡°That was an advertisement.¡± Thalmin uttered out in frustration. ¡°So that¡¯s the magic mirror of desire?¡± He turned to the shopkeeper, who merely shrugged and smiled. ¡°Well, it is accurate is it not, your highness?¡± He responded, once again straddling the line between decorum and senile joviality. With an ¡®I told you so¡¯ look from Ilunor, and a nonplussed expression to move things along from Thacea, we finally landed on the last item of interest within the store. What appeared to be¡ª ¡°The sword of legend!¡± The storekeeper picked up the display case item, which was effectively a boring, run-of-the-mill looking ¡®starter¡¯ sword from any typical MMORPG. ¡°Alright. What¡¯s it supposed to¡ª¡± ¡°The sword of legend is an ancient, and dare I say it, legendary sword crafted from the original proprietor of Banvardi¡¯s forges! Legends say that the sword shifts and contorts to fit the wielder, or more accurately, changes to personify the essence of its wielder.¡± The tortle explained, before shrugging. ¡°But don¡¯t take it from me, you can try it out for yourselves if you¡¯d like. I assure you, there will be no hidden fees here.¡± He continued, actually maintaining a rather lax attitude for someone who should be peddling these more expensive items. Thalmin and Thacea, unsurprisingly, refused to participate. What was surprising however was Ilunor finally stepping up to the plate, grabbing hold of the sword from the hilt, and wielding it in a way that showed his lack of experience with anything larger than a butter knife. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS Though that lack of experience wouldn¡¯t take away from what I could only describe as the manifestation of the rule of cool. A brief flash of light marked a change in the sword¡¯s features, as it suddenly glowed an ethereal golden radiance, before turning into this almost semi-molten, yet-still solid blade of burning yellow gold. ¡°Impressive! Very impressive.¡± Kathan remarked with an approving nod, as Ilunor began waving the thing around, like a kid in a toy shop. ¡°A weapon isn¡¯t a toy, Ilunor.¡± Thalmin cautioned with a growl, stepping in, and ripping the sword from his hand. ¡°You should treat weapons, any weapon for that matter, with respect.¡± He chastised the Vunerian, before realizing that the sword had changed whilst in his hand. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS A gust of wind emanated from the blade. Which quickly turned the flaming molten rod of gold into what I could only describe as a shiny and polished sword coated in a thin layer of ice. Snow seemed to follow it wherever it went, as the mercenary prince examined it from hilt to tip. The shape of the sword itself soon changed from Ilunor¡¯s rapier, to something more akin to a great sword. This seemed to at least amuse the mercenary prince, perhaps more than he let on, as he held it tightly in his hand for the longest while, refusing to even comment on it before handing it off to Thacea. The princess, meanwhile, seemed less than enthused about the gesture, but accepted regardless. However, upon fully grasping the blade¡ª ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS [ALERT: UNSTABLE SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED: 171% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS¡­ WARNING: ANOMALY DETECTED¡­ RECALIBRATING¡­ RECALIBRATING¡­ ERROR! DETECTING 29 + 1 DISTINCT TYPES OF MANA-RADIATION.] ¡ªa deep and dark purplish hue quickly enveloped all light within a five meter radius. Following this, the blade itself started reshaping, forming into a shadowy purple blade made of pure dark flames; shaped into what the EVI quickly likened to as a ¡®Cinquedea¡¯. My heart skipped a beat, as the warning, along with the dark purplish shadows, put me in mind of the dark and disorienting void I hopped into on the fateful night of the warehouse explosion. Though that hiccup in the otherwise lighthearted mood of the scene was only momentary, as I laid my eyes on the object of Thacea¡¯s supposed essence. Because if there was one word I could use to describe Thacea¡¯s sword, that word would be edgy. And I really vibed with that aesthetic. The princess, however, quickly handed the sword away to the shopkeeper, who took it off her hands with little fuss. Though it was clear that both Thalmin and Ilunor were a bit bothered by the whole affair. As such, I took it upon myself to quickly request the sword from Kathan, hoping to defuse the situation. And defuse it I did¡­ As I grabbed hold of its hilt, expecting something equally grand, epic, or at the very least¡­ interesting to happen if only to distract the two. Instead, the whole thing outright flopped like a wet noodle. The seemingly solid mass that was its metal blade, somehow losing all semblance of its structure, deflating and thus collapsing in on itself into a sad sagging heap. Ilunor, seizing the opportunity, broke out into uncontrollable laughter. Thalmin, meanwhile, attempted to mask what was clearly a similar reaction¡­ to varying degrees of success as he tried to look away¡­ only to bare his fangs in a dumb grin as he couldn¡¯t help but to look back at it. ¡°Now now, first-years, this¡­¡± Kathan paused, letting out a chortle in the process. ¡°... was to be expected.¡± He proclaimed, grabbing the sword back from me as he quickly placed it back into its case. ¡°The newrealmer is clearly wearing some form of a mana-masking suit of armor. Thus, the sword of legend had nothing to draw its attenuation from, resulting in¡­ the admittedly amusing sight.¡± The laughter from the Vunerian was slow to die down, and continued all the way until we reached the cash register. It was here that his smile began to wane, as the damage from our little sidequest was laid out to bare. ¡°One Vunerian Soft Toy, Fifty-five unique instances of imbued memorabilia [CLOSEST APPROX: Postcards], one novelty desk ornament, one weather globe, one figurine, and one intermediate-sized model ship.¡± He rattled on, as he quickly turned towards the rest of the items we perused. ¡°Unlike most stores, I do not charge for any interactions with my exhibits. The experience garnered from watching the youthful toying around with these enchanted amusements¡­ is in itself priceless to me.¡± He explained in a heartfelt instance of earnesty. ¡°Your total comes to three-hundred gold. One-hundred and eighty for the imbued memorabilia, and one-hundred and twenty for the rest of the items.¡± Ilunor promptly began the exchange of currency, once again allowing for it to float up and into the man¡¯s cash register from his purse, resulting in a grateful bow from the tortle. ¡°It was a pleasure, my lords, ladies, and highnesses. Please, if you ever feel the need to peruse my wares, know that I am always open. It¡¯s not like I have much else to be responsible for, after all.¡± He ended that goodbye off on a somewhat dour note. One that I ended up bringing up to the Vunerian as I posed a simple and straightforward question. ¡°Ilunor¡­ what exactly did that noble shop owner mean by that¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s a matter of noble familial dynamics, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor cut me off before I could finish that question. ¡°I¡¯d rather not touch such a topic, if at all possible.¡± It was with a nod of acknowledgement that I filed that topic under ¡®to be discussed¡¯, along with a flurry of other subjects I needed to address when we got back to the dorms, or when the opportunity arose to finally address them.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Local Time: 1710 Hours. Emma We arrived, admittedly, a bit later than expected. However, this tardiness was definitely not reflected in the sheer flurry of activity we arrived to find the guild hall in. Because even before we arrived through those now-open double doors, we were met with the sight of exactly what I¡¯d expected from a fantasy realm. Actual, honest to god, adventurers. With gear and equipment as varied and diverse as the sheer number of species present ¡ª from elves of various heritages, to lizardmen, satyrs, kobolds, and even snake-like hybrid humanoids. Though there were many more whose species I could not discern just yet, owing to the layers of enchanted armor completely obscuring their form. All in all though, the once-spacious hall was now packed. And it was clear why that was, as we quickly found out we were more than partially to blame for what seemed to be a whole day¡¯s worth of commotion. ¡°The legitimacy of this job is y7%w&l [ERROR T-201A. 72% Approx: suspicious], I think.¡± ¡°That¡¯s my thought too¡­ except it¡¯s got the boss¡¯ stamp i#< [ERROR T-201A¡­ approx N/A.] on it.¡± ¡°That ain¡¯t something you see il7%$d [ERROR T-201A¡­. 59% Approx: everyday] now is it?¡± ¡°Hey, any of you desperate enough to pick up that cabbage merchant¡¯s quest?¡± ¡°You dumb or something? He¡¯s offering up quarter-barons to catch some mythical creature, and not even the real kind!¡± However, the adventurer¡¯s various reactions weren¡¯t the first thing on my list of worries. As I quickly turned towards the EVI, my eyes scrolled through the list of error codes in the field manual. ¡°EVI, T-201A, that¡¯s a translation issue right?¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Booker. I am unable to parse certain words as they do not exist within my existing reference language databases. Nor am I able to ascertain their meaning to an acceptable margin of error, as seen within the working language databases. Current approximate translations are being conducted through inferential analysis-by-context.¡± ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re able to do this because most of the words spoken are still in High Nexian? Grammar too?¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Booker. Although the quality of translation will be proportionally impacted by the frequency and density of High Nexian used within a given unit-set of translation.¡± ¡°That makes sense¡­ I¡¯m assuming it''s also the unconventional ways they¡¯d use High Nexian too, that¡¯d make things even that much more complicated?¡± ¡°Affirmative.¡± ¡°Gotcha. Well, we have contingencies for this. Just keep me posted on the expansion of the working language database, and I¡¯ll see if we can buy some Common Nexian to High Nexian dictionaries somewhere later. That¡¯ll definitely give you something to chew on, EVI.¡± I chuckled inwardly, prompting the EVI to respond with a set of loading bars¡ª ¡­ ¡­ ¡ªbefore simply marking the ticket as resolved. No sooner was that little tangent resolved, did the guild commander finally arrive on scene, approaching me with a vibe of discretion as we were quickly ushered to a quieter part of the room; with only a scant few eyes on us. Most of the adventurers more than likely saw us as just some rich academy students not worth paying much mind to. ¡°So, what¡¯s the news?¡± I promptly asked the guild commander with a level of barely-restrained excitement. To which I first received a sigh in response, causing my anticipation to waver, and my anxiety to heighten. ¡°I¡¯m afraid there are no takers yet, my lady.¡± He announced a matter of factly. ¡°This¡­ actually may take more time than we had initially assumed.¡± I felt as if we¡¯d hit our first real brick wall in this whole day of breakthroughs and whimsy, as I shuffled and slumped in my armor, crossing my arms in the process. ¡°Alright then.¡± I sighed, before turning towards the gang with a noticeable level of melancholy. ¡°You guys can head off to do other things in town. I¡¯m more than happy to wait here until we get someone, or until curfew¡¯s up and we have to head back up.¡± A series of nods followed, as thoughts and concerns over whether even waiting until night would net me a single taker. However, these thoughts, worries, and concerns, suddenly took the backseat, as a voice boomed loudly from deep within the crowd. ¡°Ah! Yes! This quest shall do!¡± Two voices rang out at about the same time, as I turned to face what I could only describe as the most stereotypical fantasy protagonist I could imagine, with an entire adventuring party to boot. The man responsible for that proud proclamation, was a blond-haired elf, dressed in fine plate armor that glowed with an iridescent fire, seemingly emanating from within the polish itself. Next to him, was¡­ what seemed to be a kobold, but upon closer inspection, was clearly not. As he stood a good bit taller than most kobolds I¡¯ve seen thus far, and his muzzle was just that much more sharpened and longer too. Beside the Vunerian was an avinor dressed in what was comparable to renaissance-era mercenary armor, with all of the flashiness that that entailed. Finally, there was a fire elemental, who quite literally gave the group a radiant aura. This group, radiating with both energy, experience, and above all wealth, held up the job listing high in the air. It only took me a moment to realize that the listing wasn¡¯t ours however. As I turned to look at the source of the other voice, emanating from a good few feet below the elf¡¯s larger than life presence. There, next to the radiant group, was a smaller, more disheveled collection of adventurers. A dwarf, who I could only assume was its leader, held up my job listing as high up as he could above a helmet far too battered and scuffed to be worn. Next to him, was a small kobold, dressed in a tunic two-sizes too large for her, wearing what I could only describe as a single piece of platemail that covered them from their chest to their shins. Continuing the questionable ensemble was a bat, wearing just casual commoner attire, with only a lute and a simple bow on his back. Finally, there was a bear, his eyes worn and almost lifeless, glancing over to the fire elemental of the premium group. ¡°This heat is far too intense for me¡­¡± He groaned out, before slumping his head back onto the table with a loud thud. Chapter 105: Youre Hired! No sooner were those proclamations made by both adventuring parties, did the whole room¡¯s mood suddenly shift. Doors to either wings of the central hall were shut, and the entrance to the guild itself was cordoned off not long after. Young and familiar faces belonging to the apprentice trainees flooded out one by one, as all stood at attention at the far reaches of the room; though the quality of their would-be ¡®parade-rest¡¯ stances would¡¯ve sent Aunty Ran into a fiery fit. What remained of the uproarious and chaotic vibe of the place quickly fizzled out, as competing conversations mellowed out into an eerie silence; the attention of an entire room quickly landing on the two parties. Eyeballs and eyestalks alike quickly fixated on the quest listing in each party leader¡¯s hands. Following which, the two leaders promptly took to what I now realized weren¡¯t actually weirdly-shaped bar stool fixtures, but podiums. Remarkably short and stumpy podiums, with little in the way of presence like those found in the Academy, but podiums all the same. This disadvantage in height though, was unconventionally rectified by the crowd, as everyone present began taking their seats; with those unfortunate enough to lose this impromptu game of musical chairs consigned to sitting on the floor. A short clattering of weapons and armor later, and the intended effect was obvious¡­ at least for the elf. The dwarf still remained woefully too short for the podium, with only his dented and horned helmet barely poking above a few of the taller seated adventurers. A glare was quickly exchanged between the two leaders as a result. Although something told me that there was much, much more going on beneath the surface to warrant that sharp and sudden of an ire-filled glare. An assumption that began panning out, as they both attempted to speak at about the same time. ¡°The party of¡ª¡± They both began, before stopping prematurely. It didn¡¯t take too long for the guild commander to quickly step in however. Stopping this stalemate in its inception, with a quick nod directed towards the pay-to-win elf, much to the dwarf¡¯s annoyance. ¡°The Great and Bountiful Party of Elaseer¡¯s Illustrious Questseekers, humbly accepts the quest listing submitted by the Lord-Mayor of Elaseer. For the tracking, reporting, and optional hunting of the Werebeast of the Elaseer Forests. Last heard terrorizing the warehouse prior to its destruction.¡± The gold-haired elf began, his radiant armor practically blinding anyone looking in his general direction. ¡®The werebeast? Didn¡¯t I bind it to the tree stump before¡ª¡¯ ¡®Oh.¡¯ ¡®Lord Lartia was supposed to pass that intel on to the adventurers.¡¯ ¡®So given he died before telling anyone where it was¡­ the thing probably had enough time¡­ or help, to escape.¡¯ ¡°As is guild tradition, The Great and Bountiful Party of Elaseer¡¯s Illustrious Questseekers is open to any who wish to compete for the right to this quest, or any who wish to join as adjuncts to our party.¡± The man stopped, awaiting whatever response might come. A few seconds of silence later, and a hand was raised. Then another. And another. Soon, about half of the room had their left arms raised. ¡®Left or right probably corresponds to whether or not they want to join or protest the quest rights then.¡¯ I quickly thought to myself. ¡°Splendid!¡± The elf beamed out, manufacturing a grin that felt so eerily fake, almost plastic in a way that I couldn¡¯t pin down. ¡°However, I only need a quarter of you for this quest.¡± He shifted his tone abruptly, causing some arms to waver, if only slightly. Following which, the elf began raising his arm, and without once shifting that faux-positivity of his voice, he began pointing towards each party leader in the crowd. ¡°You. You! You¡­ and you!¡± He began, going through about ten more people, before finally arriving at an unexpected conclusion. ¡°All of you will not be joining us. The rest of you may follow us to the private function room!¡± The emotional whiplash was so sudden that even I was barely able to process it. As literally a dozen parties were left in the dust of their contemporaries, all of whom began marching up the grand staircase, following the pay-to-win elf¡¯s lead; some much more reluctantly than others. This wasn¡¯t Academy noble dynamics after all. Or at least, not all of it was, as I couldn¡¯t help but to notice the adventurer-Vunerian casting a fiery and contemptuous glare at his kobold counterpart; the smaller being practically sinking down into her oversized chestplate like a turtle ducking its head into its shell. There was clearly a pecking order here. One that the dwarf seemed to be painfully aware of as he began his own spiel as soon as the pay-to-win elf left earshot. ¡°Sym¡¯s Troubleshooters humbly accepts the quest listing submitted by the office of the guildmaster, for the scouting and reporting on the whereabouts of the amethyst dragon. Last seen leaving the scene of the warehouse explosion.¡± The man began through a tired mumble, looking around with half-lidded eyes at the disinterested crowd. ¡°As is guild tradition, Sym¡¯s Troubleshooters is open to any who wish to compete for the right to this quest, but not for anyone who wishes to join as adjuncts to our party.¡± That latter bit proved to be interesting, as reactions amongst the crowd were mixed between quiet indifference or outright dismissiveness. ¡°Yeah, of course he¡¯d want to keep it a closed quest.¡± ¡°Cheap bastard wants to keep all that gold for himself.¡± ¡°No surprise, none at all. Sym needs every coin he can get.¡± ¡°The poor bloke¡¯s drowning in debt. I doubt the five-thousand gold¡¯s going to put a dent in that, sadly.¡± The chatter amongst the crowd was reasonably loud, or at least, loud enough that ¡®Sym¡¯ decided to address it directly. As he seemed to have little in the way of patience for would-be gossipers. ¡°Ahem. If anyone, anyone at all wishes to compete for the right to this quest, now is the time to speak with the backing of fists and steel.¡± He cautioned, bringing the whispers to an abrupt halt, making an effort to meet each and every one of the adventurer¡¯s eyes with an unamused expression. ¡°I didn¡¯t think so. Guild commander? May I ask permission to proceed to deliberations?¡± He turned towards the commander in question, who nodded approvingly.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Guild Master¡¯s Office. Local Time: 1722 Hours. Emma ¡°No.¡± Ilunor proclaimed with a degree of dismissive severity that only a competitive noble could muster, making an effort not to meet any one of the party members¡¯ eyes. ¡°But Ilunor, you haven¡¯t even allowed them to introduce themselves¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯ve seen enough, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± He addressed me tersely, though with a clear degree more respect compared to how he addressed these adventurers. ¡°We are not settling for a ragtag troupe of third-rate adventurers. Not especially when they will invariably be representing our interests.¡± ¡°If I may, my lord¡ª¡± ¡°You may not, adventurer.¡± Ilunor snapped harshly, causing the dwarf¡¯s brow to twitch in frustration. The Vunerian promptly turned towards the guild master, who sat there quietly, his thin lines-for-eyes somehow telegraphing a certain sense of frustration shared amongst everyone in the room. ¡°Guild master, I demand that a new adventuring party be dispatched post-haste!¡± However, before the guild master could even respond, it was Thalmin who threw his hat into the ring; approaching the ragtag group with a growl. ¡°Names, specialties, and ratings.¡± The mercenary prince demanded, completely sidestepping Ilunor¡¯s complaints. ¡°Yes, mercenary prince.¡± They all spoke in unison, bowing deeply. ¡°My name is Duren Moven. Adventuring name: The Wall.¡± The tired-looking, somewhat emaciated looking brown bear spoke first. ¡°Specialty: General brawler and forest scout. Rating: Gryphon-class.¡± Ilunor let out a loud and dismissive puff at that. ¡°My name is Thulvahn Ska¡¯a. Adventuring name: Winged Dread.¡± The surprisingly friendly bat-humanoid of the group spoke up next, reaching for his lute as he maintained a constant and unbothered smile. ¡°I dabble in many specialties, sky scout, night scout, and aerial combat being my most noteworthy, wiiiith a little sprinkling of bardic inclinations into the mix.¡± He added cheekily, strumming his out-of-tune lute in the process. ¡°You can expect nothing less from that of a gryphon class like myself.¡± The Vunerian didn¡¯t let up, rolling his eyes now, as the poor kobold was now practically left increasingly nervous for her introduction. ¡°My name¡­ Kintor Gonthier, The Skitterer! Specialty: Rogue and scavenger! Rating: Greater Phoenix Class!¡± Ilunor was about ready to give up at this point, the deluxe kobold reaching for a complimentary cupcake from a tower of baked goods, just as the dwarf party leader stepped up to the plate. ¡°My name is Party Leader Sym the Honeydew. Frontliner Battle Mage. Wyvern Class.¡± It was that latter proclamation that garnered some reaction from Ilunor. Though admittedly not as much as Thalmin. As the mercenary prince took extra time to evaluate the dwarf from tip to toe¡ª ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 550% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªbefore outright breaking into a frenzied dash towards the man. A flash of light was all I saw, as multiple mana radiations hit me, the EVI taking over the suit¡¯s reflexive defense systems as a result. However, it was clear that I was the last person who¡¯d need defending, as the light and subsequent smoke subsided to reveal the tip of Thalmin¡¯s collapsible sword¡­ poised a mere inch from the dwarf¡¯s eyeball. The blade was barely held at bay by the dwarf¡¯s iron grip on its base. This standoff was quickly broken by another burst of mana radiation. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 570% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS SKRRRTTTTT. One which resulted in Thalmin being knocked back about a foot away from that knife-edge confrontation. Both parties at this point held their respective weapons poised and ready in a battle-ready stance. Though strangely, or rather fortunately, neither side seemed to take the initiative. As an upward quirk of Thalmin¡¯s lip, and a subsequent light smile from the dwarf, was all it took for the pair to disarm; both parties sheathing their weapons just moments following that death-defying stunt. ¡°Apparel and appearances may often proclaim the noble courtier¡ª¡± Thalmin began, craning his head towards the Vunerian who¡¯d since dropped the complimentary cupcake from his hands. ¡°¡ªbut in the realm of the adventurer, it is experience and action that determines his fate.¡± The prince concluded, before turning back towards the dwarf with a reassuring smile. ¡°Wyvern class, huh?¡± ¡°Yes, mercenary prince.¡± The dwarf nodded, bowing once again in respect. ¡°That was barely gryphon class if you ask me.¡± The lupinor rebutted, garnering a look of incredulous concern from the dwarf, before once again being defused by the prince¡¯s confident chuckle. ¡°But that¡¯s only because a wyvern class¡¯ trial-by-fire would most certainly lead to the destruction of this room¡­ and then some.¡± The prince quickly added with a toothy grin, craning his head towards the guild master whose forehead ¡ª I could swear ¡ª had beads of nervous sweat. ¡°I assume you have credible records of the man and his compatriots¡¯ self-proclaimed adventuring classes?¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Yes, mercenary prince.¡± The blue gelatinous blob replied, manifesting the requested documents for Thalmin through his translucent form. A quick shuffling of paper later was all that was needed to double-check these claims, as Thalmin turned towards me with a confident nod. ¡°Whilst not wyvern class in a traditional sense ¡ª given only one of four is actually confirmed to be wyvern-class ¡ª it is my judgment that this adventuring party will make do, Emma.¡± A groan from Ilunor made it clear his refusal to budge on the matter. ¡°We were promised a Wyvern-class party. Not a second-rate stand-in.¡± He grumbled. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say they were third-rate, Ilunor?¡± I shot back, attempting to undermine his constant whining by attacking him where it should hurt ¡ª his own inconsistencies. ¡°Yes, I did. However, Prince Havenbrock¡¯s little stunt elevated them from third to second in my eyes.¡± He answered with a flighty shrug, causing me to groan silently in frustration as I instead chose to focus my efforts on the group. ¡°Are you sure you folk are up for the challenge?¡± I asked the group, not just its leader, directly. This led to a wide array of reactions, from the kobold¡¯s skittish nervousness, to the bat¡¯s cocksure confidence, and finally to the dwarf¡¯s own look of stoic steadfastness. ¡°Half of our group¡¯s specialties lie in scouting and tracking. One from the skies¡ª¡± He pointed at the bat, who bowed with a draping of his arm-wing in my direction. ¡°¡ªand another from the dirt.¡± He gestured towards the kobold. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse my brazenness, my lady, I¡¯d say we¡¯re more than capable of accomplishing this simple track-and-report quest. And this is not an attempt at undermining other adventuring parties, but I doubt you¡¯ll find any other takers for such a quest in the time limit provided.¡± I gave each and every one of the party members a good glance once again, before reaching out my hand towards Thalmin, the wolf prince handing me the group¡¯s documents wordlessly. My eyes widened as I saw what amounted to the dwarf¡¯s service record, and in that moment, I was practically sold. ¡°You¡¯re hired.¡± I proclaimed, once more garnering a groan from the Vunerian. ¡°Moreover, I¡¯m willing to add a bit of a clause to sweeten the deal. For every day you shave off from the predetermined time limit, I¡¯ll reward you with a bonus of fifty gold.¡± The dwarf¡¯s eyes lit up at this, as that little incentive clearly caught his attention. ¡°However!¡± Ilunor chimed in. ¡°For every day you delay past that limit¡­ fifty gold shall be deducted from your pay.¡± ¡°We are not agreeing to that Ilunor¡ª¡± ¡°We are amenable to these clauses.¡± The dwarf responded with a nod, taking me completely by surprise. ¡°For we are confident we shall accomplish this quest at the earliest¡­ and then some.¡± He finally smiled for the first time throughout this entire interaction, reaching out a hand towards me. I took a moment to side-eye Ilunor, to which he simply shrugged, before kneeling down to firmly grasp the man¡¯s hand. ¡°It¡¯s a deal then.¡±
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Grand Hall. Local Time: 1752 Hours. Emma We left the adventuring party and the guild master to discuss the finer details of vehicle acquisition. ¡­ We also left the guild master¡¯s room three-thousand gold coins lighter than when we came in. That fact hit me like a sack of bricks, or [ten] whole Bim Bims for reference. The lack of a tangible safety net, and the finite nature of my funds here was starting to rattle my nerves. But that was probably by design, intentionally set up by the Nexus in order to stack yet more cards against the newrealmer candidates. It wouldn¡¯t be outside their MO, after all. From forcing a candidate to preemptively study High Nexian, to expecting them to immediately grapple with cultural norms and expectant decorum on the fly, adding financial strains on a candidate didn¡¯t seem too far out from the realm of possibility. It was devious and disgusting. But it was definitely something that fit their playbook. Especially if they got into tangible and intangible debt with whoever they happened to bump into. That train of thought continued until we finally made our way back into the main hall, which now seemed to be surprisingly devoid of people. ¡°So¡­ that¡¯s it then? Anything else on the list, Thacea?¡± I turned to the princess, who responded with a shake of her head. ¡°Everything that is required of us has been accomplished, Emma.¡± [School Supply Trip¡­ status¡­ COMPLETED] Following that, I quickly turned towards the EVI, as it was time to start going through my own list of objectives. ¡°EVI, bring up the quest log.¡± A short ¡®pending¡¯ notification soon followed, as I imagined the EVI to be reasonably annoyed at my continued assault on proper lingo. ¡°Current mission objectives as indicated by Mission Commander¡­ A. Locate and Secure the AM-d-002b¡ª.¡± ¡°Yeah, the amethyst dragon quest, and the subsequent rebuilding of the ECS. Mark the first as pending, and Objective B as dependent on A.¡± I responded, cutting the EVI off. ¡°Acknowledged. List continues: C. Resume ¡®library questline¡¯ with ILUNOR RULARIA by retrieving the original copy of Item of Interest: MAL¡¯TORY¡¯s notebook.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s when school starts back up after the house choosing ceremony tomorrow.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. List continues: D. Follow up on RILA¡¯S whereabouts and status following the explosion.¡± I paused at that, my heart sinking right into my gut as I forced the EVI to pause the list of objectives for the time being. ¡°Let¡¯s get on that right away.¡± I commanded, eliciting an affirmative beep from the EVI, as the quest in question faded away into the backdrop at the upper right hand corner of my HUD. ¡°Right, guys, I¡¯m going to need to¡ª¡± I turned back towards the gang¡­ only to find Ilunor missing. A quick look-around later, and I quickly spotted him approaching the illustrious pay-to-win party. Several feelings began popping up one after the other, as I could only watch in anticipation for what shenanigans the Vunerian was about to get into next. ¡°Oh. Do my eyes deceive me? Or am in the good company and graces of a fellow upper-ringer?¡± He announced out of nowhere, taking a few short footfalls towards the fancifully armored blue and turquoise Vunerian. The adventurer in question, however, refused to respond at first, his gaze only momentarily meeting Ilunor¡¯s. Though that was all it took for him to become ensnared in the latter¡¯s trap. ¡°While I may be one to forget faces, I never forget a fellow Vunerian¡¯s eyes.¡± Ilunor doubled-down, eliciting nothing but a taciturn reaction from the man. ¡°Why if it isn¡¯t the audacious and bold Lord Ilunor Rularia.¡± The adventurer finally grumbled out, forced to move a few steps towards Ilunor, if only to reluctantly engage in this unsolicited interaction. ¡°I see you remember me, Lord Millias Tacten.¡± Ilunor responded with a hand resting on his maw. ¡°Orrrr¡­ what was it now? Hmm¡­ I¡¯m never one for these silly little placeholder names commoners dress themselves up in.¡± The turquoise and blue Vunerian sighed once more, his eyes remaining completely unphased, yet entirely annoyed. ¡°It¡¯s Millias the Resplendent¡­¡± He muttered out, quickly causing Ilunor to stifle a laugh. ¡°Ah! How could I have forgotten such an illustrious name! Quite befitting of your group¡¯s chosen¡­ aesthetics.¡± Ilunor beamed. ¡°Is there anything I can help you with, Lord Rularia¡ª¡± ¡°Oh straight-to-business nowadays are we? My my, the adventuring world truly has changed you Lord Tacten¡­ or is it Millias now? Perhaps just The Resplendent?¡± The adventurer Vunerian chose the wise response however, giving Ilunor the silent treatment as several members of his group shuffled awkwardly in place, as if trapped in a dialogue screen they all desperately wanted out of¡­ but due to expectant decorum, simply couldn¡¯t. ¡°In any case, how are you faring following your¡­ chosen departure?¡± Ilunor pushed forward, in spite of all social indicators telling him not to. ¡°I believe I can ask the same of you, Lord Rularia.¡± Milias shot back using a tactic as old as time ¡ª the ¡®onu reverse¡¯ card as it were. ¡°Hmm? Why¡­ can¡¯t you tell?¡± He gestured towards himself, before craning his neck towards Thacea, Thalmin, and myself. All eyes were then trained on us¡­ which for the first time, gave me genuine embarrassment in the midst of a crowd. As this was attention of the unwanted variety. ¡°This is your peer group, I¡¯m assuming?¡± Milias took the bait. ¡°All¡­ adjacent realmers, I see?¡± He cocked his head, garnering a slight self-satisfied cackle of excitement from Ilunor. ¡°Indeed, indeed! So incredibly observant as always my dear fellow!¡± ¡°And I¡¯m assuming you¡¯re the peer group leader, the Nexian amidst Adjacents.¡± The adventurer sighed out, prompting me to finally step in, as I politely tapped Ilunor on the shoulder. ¡°Ilunor, we have other matters to attend to.¡± ¡°Oh, please, you¡¯ve had your time in the sun today, earthrealm-, er, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± He corrected himself, in a way I genuinely wasn¡¯t expecting. ¡°I would wish for some to revel in my own spotlight as it were.¡± He quickly added, in a way that straddled the line between a request and an ultimatum. I wanted to intervene, to burst his bubble right away. However, given my lack of background knowledge on the pair¡¯s history, I decided it was best to leave this particular bit of drama to Ilunor¡¯s discretion. If anything, he might just reap what he sowed here. With a shrug and a nod, I disengaged from that interaction, taking Thacea and Thalmin along with me as we moved towards the exit. ¡°How much time do we have left before the town¡¯s curfew hours, Thacea?¡± ¡°Approximately two hours or so.¡± The princess replied tactfully. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I¡¯m assuming she wants to arrange dinner plans or some such, princess.¡± Thalmin added in with a cheeky chuckle, one that I unfortunately defused as I began laying down my plans for the rest of the evening. ¡°While that honestly sounds great, I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s another questline I have to pick up. It¡¯s about Rila.¡± ¡°Who?¡± Thalmin shot back with a cock of his head. ¡°The apprentice elf I was forced to leave in town.¡± I clarified. ¡°You want to learn of her fate, I imagine?¡± Thalmin inquired. ¡°I want to make sure she¡¯s okay and taken care of is all. That was the promise I made with the professors, so I expect her to be resting up in some clinic or hospital in town.¡± ¡°We can check with the Healing Center.¡± Thacea quickly chimed in. ¡°It¡¯s only a few minutes walk from here.¡± ¡°Sounds like a plan.¡± I paused, as I quickly rummaged through one of my pouches, pulling out an artifact that both Thacea and Thalmin were immediately drawn to. ¡°A chime of consonance.¡± Thalmin surmised. ¡°I¡¯m assuming that this belongs to the elf?¡± ¡°Yup! I was intending to use this to help improve our chances of finding her. Or at least, ensure that there¡¯s like, a Plan B of tracking her down myself if the healing staff donn¡¯t feel like helping. So with that being said, do you guys have any pointers on how best to use it or¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s a simple artifice, Emma.¡± Thacea began, extending her talons expectantly, as I dropped the leather and pearl bracelet onto her palm. ¡°A rather¡­ low quality item, I might add, however¡ª¡± Thacea paused, right before a surge of mana radiation hit us. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 210% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°¡ªit should still work as expected. Simply put, it acts much in a similar manner to your dowsing rod. This artifice will ring the closer it gets to its paired chime. Though unlike more sophisticated chimes of consonance, this particular artifice lacks anything other than that function.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good enough for me.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°What¡¯s the range on this thing then?¡± ¡°From my appraisal, you should hear a steady thrumming of chimes within a modest distance. Say about¡­ spanning as wide as our dormitory.¡± ¡°Gotcha.¡± I nodded with a sigh, as we moved towards the guild hall¡¯s entrance. ¡°I was hoping for something with a bit more kick to it but I guess that¡¯s better than nothing.¡± It was about then that I noticed a coat rack next to one of the service doors near the front of the grand hall. And a lightbulb moment hit me. I quickly turned around, attempting to find the guild commander, only to be met with the satyr boy from before. ¡°Hey kid, quick question, do you have a lost and found closet for coats and cloaks?¡± This question clearly caught the boy by surprise, as it took him a good few moments to respond. ¡°Erm¡­ yes. I mean, yes my lady!¡± ¡°Alright¡­ do you think anyone would mind me grabbing a cloak from there?¡± That question prompted the boy to cock his head, before shaking it. ¡°Not if you take one of the old ones that¡¯s been there for years.¡± He responded frankly. ¡°Excellent!¡± I beamed out, grabbing one of the dusty cloaks before stuffing it in one of my many shopping bags. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be returning it sooner rather than later!¡±
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. His Eternal Light Healing Center. Local Time: 1830 Hours. Emma ¡°Welp. That settles it then. Looks like I won¡¯t be returning this cloak anytime soon.¡± I spoke with a frustrated huff, taking long stompy strides down from the whitestone tiled slopes of the ambassadorial district¡¯s healing center. I pulled out the borrowed cloak from one of my bags just as we rounded the corner away from the building, swapping it with Mifis¡¯ custom-tailored cloak. ¡°This is probably cutting it a bit tight, but I gotta go check on the healing centers outside of the ambassadorial district.¡± ¡°Is that why you¡¯re swapping outfits, Emma?¡± Thalmin inquired gruffly. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t imagine dressing up in a super-fancy cape is going to do me any favors in the suspicion department.¡± ¡°The armor itself is rather conspicuous, Emma¡­ but given the option between cape, cloak, and bare metal, I¡¯d say the cloak is a good call.¡± Thalmin offered as we made our way out of the fancy healing center and towards the wall. One that clearly separated this gated district from what was working up to be a louder, more energetic part of town if the EVI¡¯s long range acoustics were anything to go by. ¡°You guys don¡¯t have to follow me, by the way. This really isn¡¯t your fight. I can handle this on my own, trust me.¡± I offered, garnering two looks of mutual concern. Thacea stepped up first, handing me a small stack of gold coins, taking me by surprise until I remembered just where my winnings currently were. ¡°Just make sure you don¡¯t lose your school papers, Emma. Otherwise, you may find most of your night taken up by busybodies delaying your ascent back to the Academy.¡± Thacea cautioned with an audible degree of worry. To which I could only respond with a reassuring smile, one obscured by the helmet, but conveyed by my voice all the same. ¡°Thanks for the loan, and don¡¯t worry, Thacea. I¡¯ll be back before you know it.¡± With a few goodbyes, and a confident shoulder pat from Thalmin, I promptly made my way past a rather nondescript gate; expecting some level of resistance but finding none at all. From there, I found myself figuratively teleported to an entirely different world. As sights, sounds, and what I could only imagine would¡¯ve been smells without the helmet ¡ª assaulted my senses. No longer was I walking within a seemingly endless maze of pristine white and marble, but instead, a veritable kaleidoscope of shades and colors. From the gray, black, and brown cobblestone streets, to the mish-mashed facades of townhouses that seemed to be built with little in the way of uniform planning; ranging from gaudy facsimiles of baroque architecture, all the way down to dilapidated storefronts with questionable support struts holding signs promising cheap goods and affordable rent rates available within. The whole place radiated a lived-in fantastical energy, one that was undeniably more down-to-earth, as even the sheer number of pedestrians gave it lively buzz that outshone anything found within the white and gilded noble enclave. All of this was rounded out by the appearance of horse-drawn carts, as I was brought right back down to earth with an unrepentant SPLASH of murky brown puddle water slamming face first onto me, soaking the already dusty and moth-eaten cloak. ¡°EVI¡­ why didn¡¯t you move me out of the way?¡± ¡°Threat threshold not within overriding parameters, Cadet Booker. If you wish to adjust current values, please specify¡ª¡± ¡°Ugh! Forget it.¡± I sighed, silently thanking my helmet now for masking any and all smells from the outside world. ¡°Right, let¡¯s move.¡± Chapter 106: Language Barriers I hated to admit it. But that splash of brackish puddle water saturated to the brim with muck, grime, and god-knows-what was probably a blessing in disguise. Because the further I marched into town, the less the crowd seemed to notice me. Some had taken a concerning level of interest the moment I left richtown, sure. However, the more I got lost in the crowd, the less those curious eyes seemed to follow me. EVI confirmed as such. But that wasn¡¯t the only thing the EVI had confirmed in the minutes following my deep dive into the partially-unknown. Indeed, the complex orchestra of code was currently throttling through chunk after chunk of entirely novel datasets ¡ª mostly in the form of background chatter. As for the first time, save for that brief utterance of Havenbrockian courtesy of Thalmin, more than half of all audible dialogue was entirely untranslatable. The EVI had already taken into account twenty-seven distinct patterns of speech just in the first ten minutes of our walk alone. Each of which was entirely unique from one another on preliminary analysis, all bearing negligible instances of High Nexian within entire strings of conversation. It was in that moment, walking in the midst of the vibrant evening markets, lit by a hundred different forms of lamplights, packed shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers belonging to more species than I could count, that I finally experienced it ¡ª one of the much-anticipated moments SIOP had attempted to prepare me for ¡ª culture shock. Or more specifically, a specific type of culture shock, one stemming from being thrust into a rich and entirely alien environment ¡ª filled to the brim with an overwhelming kaleidoscope of all manner of sensory input that bordered on the edge of overstimulation. The controlled environment of the Academy had ironically mitigated these sorts of feelings. However, it was the gift of auto-translation courtesy of the EVI that had truly shielded me from this for the past few weeks. I¡¯d only had to deal with a certain level of culture shock following my integration into the Academy, with much of the blow of the impact softened by my ability to understand practically everything around me. But here? In the midst of an absolutely bustling side street? With coal-burning, smoke-producing, bell-ringing food carts competing for attention from pedestrians as varied as the billboards plastered haphazardly on every available storefront? I felt almost absolutely out of my element. However, at the same time, in a throwback to my first experiences in Acela¡¯s old quarter open-air heritage markets ¡ª I was also totally here for it. Naturally, anxiety did rise to compete with excitement. But it was the latter that won out in the end, especially as I focused and honed in on exactly what I could understand ¡ª maximizing my situational awareness, and taking in the sights and sounds that reminded me of some of the wilder parts of home. ¡°Fancy skewers! Fancy-style skewers!¡± I noted a particularly aggressive food hawker yelling, his hands deftly moving from the delectable pieces of over-charred meat, turning each of them over, and causing their juices to drip aggressively into the red-hot coals ¡ª generating consistent wafts of gray and white smoke which blew upwards towards a hazy, cloud-obscured night sky. ¡°Eggs! Any form or type! Big eggs! Two for fry-now! Pick your toppings!¡± Another hawker shouted, practically yelling into the busy crowd despite the already long queue haphazardly forming by the side of her stall. The female satyr was busy mixing eggs by the cup-full, with a smaller satyr deftly cracking more into what looked to be an assembly line of eggs-in-cups, all of which were customized to order with various toppings and then fried inside of a giant wok. ¡°Corn! Get fresh corn now! Grilled! Roasted! Baked! Deep-fried! Broiled! All corn! Any corn! Any time! All time! Big time!¡± A male kobold yelled out from the top of his lungs, as a literal troupe of green-scaled kobolds began the process of shucking various forms of corn-like produce, before processing them into what could only be described as a health-code violating menace of a machine. With ovens, broilers, grills, and even deep-fryers all arranged condominium-style, stacked atop of one another with smoky embers scattering everywhere anytime the stall even slightly shook. Which suffice it to say, was a lot, considering the massive line that¡¯d formed for it. ¡°With BUTTER!¡± One of the kobolds shouted, just as he lifted up a vat of freshly-churned butter to prove his point. ¡°EXOTIC BUTTERS!¡± Another reiterated. ¡°AND SUGAR!¡± Came another, as this one clamored and skittered to the rafters of the stall, grabbing what appeared to be cane sugar that¡¯d been drying atop of the tiles. The fight to draw attention continued, as my own fight to keep focus finally won out, my fixation quickly shifting to food; the most coveted thing on my mind that I was constantly denied. Because with each step I took, my mind had anticipated some form of sensory feedback in the form of the charred smell of slightly-burnt meats, the eggy smell of freshly fried omelets, and the rich and sweet assault of buttered, sugary corn. However, I got none of that. As through stall after stall, all I smelled was that metallic-infused sterilized air. The same air you¡¯d smell in hospitals and decontamination centers. Not even the less-intense version you¡¯d get on smaller ships and stations. I¡¯d gotten used to it by now. But it was in these moments of sensory dissonance that I was acutely reminded of what I was missing out on. And it sucked. Regardless, that sense of suck did help in narrowing my mind¡¯s eye, as I started looking out for signs and symbols that were recognizable as medical centers. The Nexus, thankfully, seemed to have the same idea as Earth ¡ª in that they actually standardized the symbol for healthcare facilities. Which made sense, given how the literacy rates amongst commoners was probably an issue, if historical anachronisms were anything to go by. A simple, easy-to-recognize symbol was vital in allowing people to quickly access services even if they couldn¡¯t read the signs. I think barbershops started that trend with those red, blue, and white poles¡­ I thought to myself, as I came across the first clinic on the map. So while back home the symbol was often either the red cross or one of those ancient greek staffs, in the Nexus, it often seemed to come in the form of a simplified version of a potion bottle superimposed against a shield. With a deep breath, I pushed open an oak door with one of these very symbols, revealing a small, somewhat cramped reception area with a few wood-weave chairs, and some sturdy but improvised looking wooden stretchers strewn about. A single chair was currently occupied by a rather impatient looking elf, the man appearing seemingly fine and relatively well dressed from my vantage point. However, stepping forward a few steps revealed an entirely different picture, as his other half was entirely scorched, looking as if he¡¯d been the victim of some highly-specific targeted attack that¡¯d managed to singe one side of him, but not the other. The man craned his head up, noticing me not just by my physical presence it seems, as he began clenching his nose at the smell of the cloak no doubt. ¡°What¡¯re you l&2%3k [ERROR T-201A. 52% Approx: looking] at, stranger?!¡± ¡°Sorry, just passing through.¡± I quickly apologized, before turning towards the EVI to quickly tackle some important internal ¡®housekeeping¡¯ measures. ¡°EVI? Do me a favor and just remove all of the error annotations for anything that falls under Error Code T-201A please? I don¡¯t need the code popping up every time we encounter it. It¡¯s getting a bit messy to read the subtitles. Just highlight it in a different color or make it bold or something to integrate it seamlessly, alright?¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± The EVI confirmed with a beep. With an internal nod of acknowledgement, I began taking a few tentative steps towards the only service counter in the room, staffed by a tired and anxious-looking elf. Her eyes widened the moment she looked up from her ledger, her mouth hung agape as she barely got a word out before the EVI managed to figure out what she was saying. ¡°Erm! No trouble! Please! No trouble! Tell Lord-Mayor ¡ª er, we¡¯re not ready for [special] tax yet!¡± Alarmed, I immediately raised both hands in an attempt to calm the elf down. ¡°Whoah whoah! Calm down! I¡¯m not with the lord-mayor or anyone, alright? I¡¯m not from here at all. I¡¯ve come from¡­ out of town, and I¡¯m looking for a friend.¡± Suspicion soon replaced the panic within the elf¡¯s eyes, as she nodded warily. ¡°Who are you looking for, stranger?¡± She spoke slowly this time, clearly in an attempt to match the exclusively High-Nexian vocabulary I was consigned to. ¡°Is there anyone by the name of Rila in your care?¡± I asked simply. To which the receptionist began scanning the ledgers in front of her at a frantic pace, flipping through three pages, before turning to me with a shake of her head. ¡°No, [sorry].¡± She replied anxiously. ¡°Alright¡­ try Trade-Apprentice Lartia-siv.¡± I spoke under a strained breath, uncomfortable with using her name under Lord Lartia. ¡°Trade-Apprentice Lartia-siv¡­¡± The receptionist parroted, going through the book¡­ before replying with the same shake of her head. ¡°No, [biggest apologies].¡± I wasn¡¯t going to take this lying down however, so I continued to push. ¡°Would you mind me taking a look around your wards? Just¡­ a quick walk?¡± I asked in the nicest tone I could manage. ¡°I just want to be sure, is all.¡± I quickly added with a smile. This¡­ seemed to garner the opposite intended effect, as the receptionist¡¯s face contorted to a look I could only describe as polite panic, the elf proceeding to crane her head left and right, before nodding briskly. ¡°Okay. Please¡­ hurry and don¡¯t [disturb].¡± She stated in between gasps for either clean air or nervous breaths. ¡°Will do.¡± I acknowledged, as the receptionist led the way through the maze of what I could only describe as cramped, boxy, and borderline congested public and private wards. Everything I saw here matched the sort of setup seen in the healing wing at the Academy, though of course, less premium. And just like in the healing wing, it seemed as if the magical analogs to modern medical equipment was a fair bit sparser, instead relying on physicians to do most of the monitoring work. Though admittedly, they did seem to do a pretty good job, as despite the congested atmosphere ¡ª there was a distinct lack of suffering. As there were no signs of any obvious neglect amongst the patients, no rowdiness or even cries of pain, instead, everyone just seemed to be waiting for whatever magical IV treatment they were hooked up to, to be done. That, and the long, long line of patients with plastered-up limbs, presumably for broken bones that were now just waiting for time to do its thing. However, despite this eye-opening field trip into the lives of the ¡®commoners¡¯ within the care of Elaseer¡¯s medical system, not once did Rila¡¯s bracelet show signs of activation. So after a good five minute lap through the small townhouse clinic, we finally looped back into the reception area, with nothing to show for it but a nervous and terrified-looking elf. ¡°Thank you for your time.¡± I acknowledged, handing her a gold coin, which she pocketed discretely and without question. It was¡­ honestly a bit concerning how practiced she seemed to be at doing that. But I didn¡¯t think too much of it before leaving. With a sigh, and a fleeting feeling of anxiousness over this whole quest, I turned towards the EVI¡¯s little ¡®avatar¡¯ with an expectant look; a map soon forming across half of my HUD as a result. ¡°I¡¯m so glad we mapped the town out that night.¡± I spoke inwardly, indirectly complimenting the EVI, as I began following the highlighted path towards the next clinic. ¡°Correction, there were two unique instances in which the town was mapped. The first, during the ¡®warehouse incident¡¯, and the second, during the ¡®phoenix incident¡¯.¡± ¡°Yeah, that explains the quality of it. Thanks, EVI.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± It took about a brisk seven minute walk before we reached the next clinic. On one hand, I was genuinely surprised as to how close the two clinics were to each other. But then again, that relative proximity made sense given how your primary mode of transport here was limited to your own two legs. On the other hand, I couldn¡¯t help but to worry once again, as I hoped that this visit would mark the end of tonight¡¯s quest. ¡­ 10 Minutes Later ¡­ It didn¡¯t.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°Alright¡­ how many more do we have marked on the map, EVI?¡± ¡°Five, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Oh joy¡­ this is going to be cutting it close to curfew, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°I calculate at current rates, 1 Hour and 40 Minutes, Cadet Booker.¡± ¡°Nearly half of that is travel time, I imagine?¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°Right¡­ then let¡¯s book it.¡±
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Central Commerce District. Just Outside of His Eternal Grace¡¯s Healing Center. Local Time: 1950 Hours. Emma ¡°You have managed to accomplish the objective within 1 Hour, 9 Minutes, and 22 Seconds, Cadet Booker. Congratulations.¡± ¡°I¡­ wouldn¡¯t say.. ¡®Accomplished¡¯... EVI.¡± I managed out between breaths, as despite not actually going full Book it Booker for fears of inciting the same public panic as on that fateful night, the combined pressures of intermittent speed-walking and the looming fear of the curfew was enough to leave me breathless. ¡°We didn¡¯t find Rila.¡± I stated plainly, as I took respite amongst a few shady loiterers in similar states of raggedy water-logged dishevelment. The small half-alley, half-alcove felt like the edgy kids corner at school all over again¡­ except instead of anachronistic era-swapfits, this was the real deal. So much so that I would¡¯ve genuinely felt intimidated by what I could only imagine Ilunor describing as ¡®highwaymen-looking ruffians¡¯¡­ if it wasn¡¯t for the mana-proof composalite and space-age tech in the way. ¡°Marking Objective D as ongoing and temporarily on hold¡ª¡± ¡°Actually, wait.¡± I objected suddenly. ¡°There¡¯s one more place we can check out.¡± The one place that might actually be the professor¡¯s first choice for medical care. ¡°The Academy¡¯s healing wing.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Marking Healing Wing as the next primary destination.¡± The EVI quickly corrected, prompting several more optional side-objectives to come into view. ¡°Hmm, cabbage merchant¡­ yeah, we do have to do good by him, but I think the language barrier plus the lack of cash on hand is going to put a dent in those plans. So let¡¯s push that aside for the next town trip once I get both points in order.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Alright¡­ the search for the missing drone is another big one, but I don¡¯t think we have time tonight for that one.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Aaaand, oh! Okay, we might just have enough time for this one!¡± I exclaimed, using my eyes to rapidly click at the bottom item on the list. ¡°Let¡¯s try to find ourselves a ¡®commoner¡¯ dictionary.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± With a nod and a sudden skip, eliciting the unwanted attentions of a dozen or so shady looking hooded rogue-types, I began marching my way back into the bright lights of the evening market. I felt a few concerned eyeballs turning towards me almost immediately, though once again, they seemed to shrug me off as soon as I blended back into the crowds. Keeping a low profile was strangely easier than I expected. Though once again, it probably helped that the place was packed, as pedestrians dressed in everything from torn and tattered tunics, to rich and flowy capes, robes, and even full Ilunor-like ensembles rubbed shoulders with one another. The density occasionally got worse when carts full of fresh produce drove right through the streets, as there was little in the way of delineation between the sidewalk and the road, unlike in richtown. The EVI was, once again, assaulted by a torrential downpour of unknown languages. ¡°SCRAP! Get yer ENCHANTED SCRAP!¡± A dwarven voice called out, his bellowing timbre causing quite a few to actually stop and stare, much to his delight. Because as soon as enough eyes were locked on, the dwarf made sure they remained as such, as he began lifting not just an entire box-full of scrap, but another one too. Following which, he threw both up in the air, and a third, before committing to what I could only describe as a heavy-weight juggling act. ¡°QUALITY ENCHANTED SCRAP! UNSORTED, [ORIGINAL QUALITY], UNTAMPERED, UNCORRUPTED, FRESH, DIRTY, SCRAP MANA-METAL!¡± He yelled, shouting over the CLATTER CLATTER CLATTER of metal clanging and bashing within those boxes. This definitely got the crowd¡¯s attention, or annoyance, for the most part. Though strangely, quite a few people were actually drawn to the man, as leather-aproned blacksmiths and well-dressed merchants alike began assessing each of these boxes, the EVI quickly cluing me into their conversations. All of which led me to an interesting realization. ¡°The guy¡¯s just a middle man selling boxes of unsorted junk. It¡¯s like a mystery box, but for people who know what they¡¯re doing, this could make a killing.¡± I surmised, just as the dwarf began slapping away several curious hands holding what looked to be magical tools ¡ª no doubt attempting to determine which box was the most lucrative. ¡°NO [PREVIEWS]!¡± Walking down the street revealed increasingly packed street-side stalls, though behind them, were more established brick and mortar stores that seemed to be just as packed as the open-air vendors. I walked by practically dozens of these stores, going past blacksmiths, cobblers, tailors, and a whole assortment of general stores, without once setting eyes on a book store. However, in the midst of my search for something resembling a dictionary-proprietor, my eyes landed across a roughly translated piece of loose dialogue that didn¡¯t seem right. ¡°I understand the difficulties, however, I [must warn] about the [risks]. You are still a [Rantolisrealm citizen] working under [my noble sponsorship]. Should you wish to [naturalize], then you will immediately lose your [rights to commerce] in the Nexus. Understand that this is [not a threat], but a [warning].¡± And it wasn¡¯t because of the conversation itself or its context. No. It was because of exactly who the speech was tagged to. [A72 ETHOLIN ESILA] ¡°EVI, are you sure you¡¯re reading this right? Why would Etholin be here¡­ and how would he be speaking common or low Nexian or whatever it¡¯s¡­¡± I immediately addressed the EVI, who responded with a series of ¡®...¡¯ loading bars, prompting me to trail off as I instead shut up to hear its response. ¡°Suggestion to Operator: make use of your optical sensors to confirm self-reported errant data readings.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to sigh at that digital sass, before doing as instructed. Stepping into the store in question ¡ª what looked to be a carpenter¡¯s workshop ¡ª the EVI¡¯s readings were immediately validated. As I was met with a familiar face. One that seemed just as shocked to see me, before attempting to regain some composure by clearing his throat. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker?¡± He stammered out. ¡°Yeah, in the flesh! Or the metal, I suppose.¡± I responded awkwardly, reaching a hand to rub the back of my head; pulling down the soggy hood in the process. ¡°What¡­ what are you doing¡­¡± He paused, before shaking his head. ¡°Ah, well, I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter. I must compliment the forces of fate for finally managing to secure our well-overdue meeting!¡± The little thing beamed out, trying his best to maintain whatever persona he was using with the other ferret-like person that stood behind the counter. ¡°[Discuss this later], Artholan.¡± He turned to face the man, who bowed deeply in response. ¡°Erm, I¡¯m really sorry about this, Etholin, but I''m in a real rush to get back now. It¡¯s almost curfew, and I was¡ª¡± ¡°Searching for something in town, I imagine?¡± The ferret squeaked out, his tone of voice landing somewhere between his usual skittish self, and the more confident, business-savvy one that he seemed to naturally trend towards amidst commoners. ¡°Something like that, yeah.¡± I acknowledged, keeping my cards close to my chest as I inadvertently accepted my new walking partner. The little ferret actually managed to secure us a significant degree of berth as people seemed more inclined to give him the right of way. ¡°So¡­ what was it you wanted to talk to me about, Etholin?¡± I finally caved in, only for the EVI to recall the answer to that question verbatim. [TRANSCRIPT FROM A72: ¡°There is a proposition I wish to pose to you, on the matter of this weekend¡¯s sojourn into Elaseer, and on another matter more pertinent to your time here within the Academy and its many, many factions.¡±] I nodded internally in acknowledgement, as I quickly seized on the opportunity to correct my course. ¡°Was it something about the town shopping trip? And also something about navigating the factions of the Academy?¡± That seemed to shift the ferret¡¯s features from nervous politeness to a more positive skittishness, as he nodded fervently. ¡°Yes, yes! You are correct on both accounts, Cadet Emma Booker!¡± He beamed, shaking with excitement. ¡°Oh I am so honored you remembered!¡± ¡°Hehe, yeah¡­¡± I addressed that latter point with another rub of my neck. ¡°Well¡­ I guess that first point¡¯s probably moot now considering the town trip¡¯s already over¡ª¡± ¡°N-not at all, Cadet Emma Booker!¡± He interjected nervously. ¡°F-for there is a matter that I believe may very well be up your alley as they say! First, given your c-commoner status, a-and secondly, reaffirmed by your very presence here in the commoner¡¯s district!¡± He attempted to maintain a positive, jovial, friendly tone of voice, in spite of all of the skittishness that came naturally to him. ¡°Okay? I¡¯m listening.¡± ¡°You may have assumed that my attempt to parlay on the matter of the town ¡®shopping trip¡¯ as it were, was a result of matters of pure commerce or finance, yes?¡± ¡°I mean¡­ I didn¡¯t want to stereotype you, Etholin, considering the whole ¡®merchant lord¡¯ and all. But given the Nexus¡¯ playbook, I had to take into consideration that possibility.¡± I shrugged. ¡°But the same could be said for everyone, honestly, not just you. I¡¯d sort of assumed that there''s an expectation for newrealmers to get tricked into a debt trap in Elaseer given the lack of Nexian currency on hand. So, I¡¯d imagine that fellow students would be attempting to get in on that too.¡± ¡°I can confirm, Cadet Emma Booker, that your presumptions on that trend of newrealmer indebtedness is indeed correct.¡± The ferret acknowledged. ¡°So¡­ were you trying to warn me about it or¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, I¡ª¡± The ferret interjected with a stutter. ¡°T-that was part of it, yes. However, I was hoping to ignore that matter entirely. For you see, I had guessed, seemingly correctly so, that matters of finances would be ¡®sorted¡¯, as it were, by someone as uniquely attuned with fate as yourself. Thus, what I was wishing to discuss wasn¡¯t something as trivial as finances, but a matter that you may probably be facing already if your current outfit is anything to go by.¡± He spoke excitedly, as if waiting to drop a bombshell on me that he¡¯d been excitedly holding in for a whole week. ¡°Okay? Don¡¯t let me stop you there, Etholin.¡± ¡°I assume¡­ that you wish to communicate with commoners!¡± He concluded proudly. ¡°You ¡ª a seeker of knowledge, an extension of The Library, a commoner in and of yourself, and clearly an astute scholar of linguistics considering your impeccable command of High Nexian ¡ª would obviously be seeking to expand your knowledge by diving into an avenue few nobles would ever consider of delving into!¡± I had to do a complete double take at that conclusion. Because in spite of landing dead center on the subject of my sidequest, his reasons for getting there were also honestly¡­ compelling. And to an extent, he was right. If it wasn¡¯t for the whole push to find Rila, I would still have attempted to bridge the communication gap. That was an integral aspect of the mission after all. To collect, analyze, collate, and process any and all information, social, cultural, political, and then some. Language was the facilitator for all of that. ¡°I¡­ do hope I¡¯m not being too presumptuous here, Cadet Emma Booker!¡± Etholin offered with a worried smile. ¡°I simply garnered as much from the impromptu speech you gave to the year group during the emergency assembly! You expressed a clear intent to learn and to bridge cultural boundaries! Language is an integral part of that!¡± So the ferret really was listening during my spiel. Did¡­ one of my speeches actually get through to someone? ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re offering your services¡­ as that bridge, I imagine?¡± I cocked my head, once more earning a skittish nod from the ferret. ¡°Y-yes! I-if, that is of course acceptable? I¡­ I do apologize if I seem to be overstepping my bounds or¡ª¡± ¡°No, Etholin. You¡¯re really not.¡± I interjected, offering the nervous noble as reassuring of a tone of voice as I could muster. ¡°If anything, I¡¯ll be more than happy to discuss this with you as I am, in fact, in the market for something of a translator.¡± This caused the small noble to grin widely, as he began tip tapping both feet now, practically skipping in his strides. ¡°So¡­ let¡¯s start with the basics. I assume that since there¡¯s a High Nexian, there¡¯s probably also a ¡®Low Nexian¡¯ for commoners, and that ¡®Low Nexian¡¯ probably isn¡¯t one unified language too, but a blanket term for hundreds of dialects?¡± ¡°Correct, Cadet Emma Booker! Though, only partially.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°There are, in fact, tens of thousands of dialects.¡± ¡°Oh.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Grand Concourse Terminal. Local Time: 2025 Hours. Emma ¡°I¡¯m sorry to ask you this, Etholin, but¡­ what exactly do you hope to gain from promising me all of this?¡± I finally shot back, just as we exited the portal mere minutes before town-curfew. ¡°As I said before, Cadet Emma Booker, I am a fair individual. I wish for this relationship to be balanced, respectful, and as a means of easing your worries ¡ª transactional.¡± My brow quirked upwards at that last word, as I stood there, hands on my hips. ¡°Erm¡­ Etholin? I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m misinterpreting some important cultural context here or¡­¡± ¡°Oh! I¡­ that was not the intent of my¡ª¡± The ferret began, before quickly doing a complete reassessment. ¡°What I meant to say was, I wish for our relationship to be one of mutual transactions, where I offer my services and aid, and where you likewise offer certain services, aid, and perhaps promises.¡± ¡°What specifically are we talking about here?¡± ¡°There is¡­ quite a lot I wish to learn of your realm, and likewise, a lot that I believe can be garnered by relations born of trade and commerce. Strictly speaking, despite the stigma associated with newrealms, and indeed, with a race consisting of primarily weakfielders, I still believe there is much to be gained.¡± He offered brightly. ¡°Alright? That¡¯s going to be a ways away, Etholin. And while I¡¯ll be more than happy to share more about my realm, anything tangible with regards to trade is going to require forces beyond my powers to promise.¡± I paused, as a lightbulb moment hit me. ¡°But that¡¯s if we¡¯re talking about trade between realms. Local business endeavors, on the other hand, are definitely on the table.¡± I quickly added, realizing that I probably just had a way into the Elaseer market. ¡°That¡¯s understandable.¡± Etholin nodded. ¡°Though, there are also other exchanges I wish to propose. Namely, in the realm of aid in Professor Chiska¡¯s physical education classes, as well as perhaps a form of solidarity in similar curricular and extracurricular-based activities?¡± ¡°Oh, school stuff? Yeah, I¡¯d definitely be down for helping you with physical education stuff for sure, Etholin.¡± I nodded confidently. ¡°Though, you¡¯re going to have to clarify a bit about exactly what you mean by ¡®solidarity¡¯¡ª¡± TOOO TOOOO TOOOOOOM! A series of brassy trumpets interrupted our conversation just as we entered the grand hallways proper. The source of this sudden interruption, was coincidentally, the source of a lot of my disdain. What I could only describe as a literal parade float began parading down the hall at a leisurely pace; taking up almost the entirety of the walkable space. Atop of it, was none other than what was quickly becoming my arch-nemesis ¡ª Auris Ping. With Lady Ladona standing behind him, splaying out her colorful wings, as if to garner even more attention than she already got normally. ¡°Make way! Make way for the Class Sovereign to-be! Make way for the Class Sovereign candidate!¡± The bull¡¯s most ardent supporter, second only to Ladona, announced with a level of righteous bombasticness, punctuating the deafening festival music that was fittingly as obnoxious as the man they serenaded. ¡°So this is what you were alluding to?¡± I turned to address Etholin. However, before he could respond, another series of royal trumpets echoed from the other end of the hallway. As to my horror, yet another parade float began barreling down, this one, occupied by none other than the teacher¡¯s pet Qiv¡¯Ratom. However, instead of the over-the-top grandeur of Auris¡¯ float, his float seemed to be just a little bit more reserved. Though that wasn¡¯t really saying much when it came to the Nexus¡­ ¡°Move aside! Clear the way, for the Class Sovereign candidate Lord Qiv¡¯Ratom! The peer above peers, incumbent lord of highest score!¡± Rostario¡¯s shrill voice echoed throughout the halls, as he led the float atop of a floating cloud, his hand twirling a diamond-studded baton. It was at that moment that the active map display suddenly turned orange, indicating that there was now no way out, as both floats were on a slow, meandering collision course towards the center of the hallway, and the two bystanders currently in the way of it all ¡ª us. Chapter 107: We Gave Up The two parade floats showed no signs of stopping. A fact quickly corroborated by the EVI. [Warning! Collision imminent!] So, without hesitation, I made my moves. With one arm picking up the diminutive ferret ¡ª his whole body elongating like a slinky in the process ¡ª and the other arm poised to deploy the much-dreaded grappling hook, aimed just above Auris¡¯ float. [Grappler trajectory confirmed! Proceed?] However, no sooner were those calculations made, did the figureheads of both floats suddenly come to their senses, ordering their respective hallway-sized ego-machines to an abrupt halt. Though, it would quickly become clear that this wasn¡¯t done for the sake of the pedestrian. Instead, the two parties seemed to be first and foremost preoccupied amongst themselves. ¡°Does Lord Auris Ping of Pronarthiarealm, fellow peer of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, yield to the Class Sovereign candidate, Lord Qiv¡¯Ratom?!¡± The hamster-like Rostario shrieked bombastically, earning nothing but an annoyed grunt from the bull. ¡°No, I do not yield!¡± Ping shouted back, prompting Ladona to push forward with what I assumed to be a rebuttal. ¡°Does Lord Qiv¡¯Ratom of Baralonrealm, fellow peer of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, yield to the Class Sovereign candidate, Lord Auris Ping?!¡± Ladona shot back. ¡°No, I do not yield.¡± Qiv declared with a surprising degree of class compared to his bullish counterpart. All of this culminated in both would-be candidates shifting their attentions down from their thrones, towards both me and the ferret merchant lord. ¡°Do, you, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm, fellow peer of the Transgracian¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªAcademy for the Magical arts, yadda, yadda, yadda¡­¡± I interrupted, letting my annoyance be known. ¡°First of all, let¡¯s take a step back. What¡¯s all of this actually about?¡± I gestured frantically towards either float, decorated to the brim with mana-enriched metals glistening with not just random specks of light, but outright patterns that ranged from flowers to intricate engravings, to even the signatures of either ¡®candidate¡¯. That question, whilst received with a series of nods from Qiv¡¯s group, seemed to be enough to give Ping the ¡®ammunition¡¯ he needed to strike back. ¡°HAH! The newrealmer once more shows her true colors, as one so lacking in the deeper nuances of the dynamics of power beyond mere feats of physical strength.¡± He taunted, eliciting an uproarious series of laughs from his float-members and followers, prompting me to tap my feet in response. ¡°You must have quite the selective memory, Lord Ping, because if I recall correctly¡­ you of all people had first-hand experience with a certain library card belonging to yours truly.¡± I stated bluntly, my hand tapping the pouch housing the aforementioned card. ¡°I assume that the library doesn¡¯t just hand out these things for ¡®mere feats of physical strength¡¯, now does it?¡± The bull¡¯s eyes grew wide at that retort, Ladona¡¯s spindly hands seemingly the only thing keeping him from violently leaping out at me, as she gently massaged his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. Qiv¡¯Ratom, however, cleared his throat to call for our attention. ¡°Please be reasonable, Lord Ping. It¡¯s simply unreasonable to assume she ¡ª a newrealmer with the barest grasp of our civil practices ¡ª has an answer to every question, so let¡¯s try to enlighten her in a civilized manner, yes?¡± The bull refused to respond, simply shrugging as Qiv momentarily took the reins of the conversation. ¡°What you see before you are floats, newrealmer. They are part of a long-standing tradition; the procession for one¡¯s ¡®declaration to campaign¡¯ for the position of Class Sovereign.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m guessing the class sovereign is like, the de-facto leader or representative of the year group or something?¡± ¡°Correct, newrealmer.¡± Qiv responded tactfully. ¡°It is a position which only one may hold, for the duration of the entirety of the year group¡¯s enrollment within the Academy.¡± Cogs started turning in my head at that revelation, as it quickly became clear how Class Sovereign probably wasn¡¯t a clean one-to-one analog of Class President, but was once again probably yet another twisted mirror-version of the institutions back home. So even the humble Class President isn¡¯t safe from Nexian-ification, huh? ¡°I¡¯m assuming that there¡¯s no voting involved then, is there?¡± I responded with a sigh, garnering a nod from Qiv, and an indignant huff from Ping. ¡°Define¡­ voting, newrealmer.¡± The bull replied with a dismissive chuckle. ¡°Oh come on¡­ I know you guys at least have some concept of it.¡± I began with an exasperated sigh. ¡°Voting¡­ the process of choosing officials in positions of power, or policies, by declaring or casting your preference for said official or policy.¡± ¡°And exactly why would we ever put such a time-honored and storied position to the whims of the esoteric inclinations of the ravenous masses?¡± Ping responded with an indignant huff. ¡°Yes, the concept of voting is not beyond us. But the act of voting, of casting your decision, is one which must be made amongst equals of heritage, pedigree, and titles. From the peerage council of class sovereigns, to the privy council in His Eternal Majesty¡¯s court, the act of voting is sacrosanct, and must be reserved for those deserving of it. And even then, council decisions, no matter how unanimous, must ultimately always be subject to the will of the highest sovereign by decree or birthright.¡± ¡°The Dean is to the Class Sovereigns, what His Eternal Majesty is to the Privy Council ¡ª the ultimate voice amidst what are effectively extensions of his own power.¡± Qiv concluded, garnering what was perhaps one of the few nods of acknowledgement from Ping. ¡°Right, so, if not voting¡­ how exactly is the Class Sovereign chosen?¡± ¡°By Dean¡¯s decree, of course.¡± Ping responded with a self-satisfied smile. ¡°Haven¡¯t you been listening, newrealmer?¡± ¡°If we¡¯re being pedantic about it, that would be the answer.¡± I replied with an annoyed grunt. ¡°But I meant the actual process, Lord Ping.¡± ¡°The prerequisite to even entering the challenge is to be a member of the top seven peer groups by points.¡± Qiv answered. ¡°Following which, a test of strength, a test of knowledge, and a test of magical prowess will be required.¡± ¡°These tests differ from year to year, but it is the final test, the Quest for the Sword, which remains relatively similar year after year.¡± Auris continued, jockeying the mantle of answering from Qiv. ¡°While the specifics change, the premise remains bound to the original myth surrounding the Academy¡¯s founding, a tale of a wizened monarch being chosen by the enlightened waterfolk of Lake Telliad; a test conducted by His Eternal Majesty¡¯s far-reaching sight and will. This monarch who was drawn to a vision of this artifact, suffered hardship after hardship before being bestowed this marker of leadership at the hands of this venerable waterfolk ¡ª an artifact which he would later wield to aid His Eternal Majesty in his ultimate quest to establish Status Eternia.¡± That rising tone of voice, coupled with his increasingly manic gesticulations, worried me greatly. But it wasn¡¯t out of fear of action or violence. No. It was fear of being trapped in another unskippable dialogue screen. And whilst I hated to admit that we had anything in common, it took one blabbermouth to understand when another blabbermouth was about to go all in on a particular subject of their fixation. This was one of those moments. ¡°Riiight.¡± I nodded warily. ¡°Thanks for bringing me up to speed on this whole¡­ campaign you¡¯ve got going on. But if you don¡¯t mind, I do have places to be, people to see, and sooooo I think I¡¯ll be leaving now.¡± I offered, before making a point to crane my head toward both directions. ¡°Erm, I don¡¯t suppose one of you guys could like¡­ back up or something?¡± ¡°Backing up, would be akin to yielding, newrealmer.¡± Auris responded indignantly, prompting me to let out a sigh, before taking a few purposeful steps back. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll just make my own way out. Gosh¡­ why do you always insist on making everything so fricking complicated¡­¡± I responded through a half-mumble, turning to the EVI with a single, simple order. ¡°EVI, sports mode. Leapfrog.¡± [...] ¡°EVI, leapfrog.¡± [...] ¡°Acknowledged. Activating sports mode, custom preset: LEAPFROG.¡± With a sudden limberness felt throughout my body, and feeling as if I¡¯d suddenly been imbued with some temporary DEX increase spell, I knelt down at the EVI¡¯s virtual starting line; my eyes continuously trained on both the highlighted ¡®track¡¯ in front of me and Auris¡¯ bewildered expression. ¡°Go.¡± I sprinted forwards without warning, making a mad dash seemingly right towards Auris¡¯ float, before at the very last minute, leaping over it in a single, pointed, jump. The quadruple-volume ceilings the Academy was so fond of using finally proved to be practical this time around, as it gave me more than ample airspace to make the leap up and over Auris¡¯ wedding-cake of a campaign float. I couldn¡¯t help but to let out a wide grin as all eyes were once more on me and my little stunt, and as Auris¡¯ zealous fervor wavered into momentary dread upon seeing me outright lunging towards him, only to miss him by just a few inches. ¡°Good luck on the whole class sovereign thing, guys!¡± I shouted back for good measure, giving the bewildered crowd a solid wave. ¡°This isn¡¯t over, newrealmer!¡± I could hear Ladona screeching in Auris¡¯ fear-stricken place, as I went about my merry way down the corner¡­ with Etholin still in tow. ¡­ The poor thing was practically shaking now, even as I set him down as soon as we were out of earshot. ¡°Sorry about that little stunt, Etholin.¡± I offered with a nervous chuckle, reaching for the back of my neck in the process. ¡°I-it¡­ it is¡­ quite alright, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± He offered meekly, and through a nervous chattering of his teeth. ¡°That¡­ was¡­ quite the feat of¡­ strength.¡± ¡°Heh, it¡¯s nothing really.¡± I responded awkwardly. ¡°Let¡¯s just continue where we left off, shall we?¡± The ferret nodded, once more leading the way as he slowly, but surely, transitioned back to his prior gait and posture. ¡°So, yeah, I¡¯d be more than happy to help you out with PE and all that. School stuff is the same in every realm, I imagine. It¡¯s a constant fight until graduation, so why not make that fight easier by lessening the burden amongst friends?¡± I continued, the mingling of my diplomatic and genuine side coming through just like it did with the gang. ¡°I-indeed, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Etholin nodded. ¡°I¡¯d like that, very much. A-and as stated previously, this request is not a blanket declaration. The terms of our¡­ mutual aid, can very much be enacted as per a case-by-case basis.¡± ¡°So not a wholesale mutual-defense pact, but more so a friendly memorandum of understanding on the subject of mutual cooperation, subject to whatever the issue is on hand.¡± I clarified. ¡°Y-yes, in a manner of speaking.¡± Etholin acknowledged, his brow perking upwards with interest. ¡°Considering this is the start of our working relationship, I believe it is prudent to set boundaries, so as to help establish the limits of our respective investments in either party.¡± The ferret took a moment to pause, before correcting himself promptly. ¡°I do apologize i-if that is a bit too forward, Cadet Emma Booker. I will understand if you take offense to the cold and callous nature of¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright, Etholin.¡± I attempted to reassure him. ¡°If anything, I appreciate the upfrontness. It¡¯s not just good business, but also solid diplomacy-building; not mincing your words behind empty platitudes and such.¡± The ferret nodded in understanding, a confidence which burned bright in his eyes, giving me a surge of confidence in this whole diplomatic endeavor, as the first seeds of relations beyond the confines of my peer group seemed to have just been planted. However, just before we arrived at the intersection of dynamically-moving stairs, another thought quickly entered my head. As I realized I needed to broach this now, before we parted ways. ¡°Hey Etholin, there¡¯s actually something I¡¯ve been meaning to ask you since the commoner¡¯s district.¡± I began, garnering a cock of the ferret¡¯s head. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Well, first off, I was going to ask you exactly how and why you¡¯re able to speak ¡®commoner Nexian¡¯ dialects¡­ but I think your involvement in trade and commerce sorta makes that point self-explanatory.¡± Etholin nodded in acknowledgement at that, before gesturing for me to continue. ¡°Right, so. Onto my main point then. I don¡¯t imagine many students have much of a reason to leave the ambassadorial district, so I¡¯m curious as to what exactly you were doing out there?¡± I asked plainly.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°Ah! A very astute observation, Cadet Emma Booker!¡± Etholin perked up. ¡°I was merely doing my rounds, visiting those under my patronage and sponsorship, as is tradition for Rontalisrealm merchant noblemen upon arrival at any foreign port! Such things are typically reserved for my bannermen, but given the exclusivity of Nexian visitation, it is typically expected for the issuer of charters and licenses themselves to make personal visits to their wards.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± I acknowledged with a nod. ¡°So, from what I¡¯m understanding, are you saying that the guy¡¯s ability to conduct business is entirely dependent on your official sponsorship? Like, as a license issuer or something?¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± Etholin nodded. ¡°Commoners, unless under some form of a generational charter, must first acquire licenses or sponsorships from noble houses in order to conduct business or practice a certain trade. Whilst the details of this vary, my family has been well known to be very generous with our sponsorships.¡± ¡°Hence why you¡¯re known as a merchant Lord?¡± I clarified, causing the ferret¡¯s ears to dip somewhat. ¡°Sorry if that was offensive or anything, Etholin, I was just¡ª¡± ¡°No, no! You¡­ you are well within your rights to ask such questions. You are entirely alien to our ways after all.¡± ¡°Again, I apologize if that was at all a faux pas. You don¡¯t need to answer¡ª¡± ¡°The answer is, yes, Cadet Emma Booker. There is¡­ something of a taboo when it comes to the generous issuance of licenses and sponsorships to commoners. Generally speaking, there exists an unspoken ratio as to what¡¯s considered acceptable rates of issuance. A ratio which is determined by a variety of factors. The simplest being the ratio between the amount of land the issuing noble house possesses, and the number of sponsorships issued at any given time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m imagining your house has a lot of licenses issued then.¡± I offered. ¡°In a manner of speaking, yes.¡± Etholin affirmed, but then quickly clarified. ¡°We are within what is considered the tail-end of the acceptable ratio. However, the issue arises in the diversity of our sponsorships, which most may see as nonexistent. This is because most of our sponsorships trend towards the single-generation issuance of merchant licenses, rather than the patronage of trades such as those of the Artisan charters, Scribes, non-magical Healers, Seafarers, and so on and so forth.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but to remain entirely transfixed on this bit of the world¡¯s lore, as opposed to whatever Auris and Qiv were doing. ¡°This is all so very fascinating, Etholin.¡± I expressed with genuine delight, garnering a cock of Etholin¡¯s head, and a perplexed expression bordering on confused relief. ¡°There¡¯s definitely a lot to be said about trade houses. In fact, some of the most powerful noble houses in our history were the more trade-focused houses. So I definitely see the wisdom in going down this route.¡± The ferret¡¯s eyes widened even further, his lips parting open as if he was taken by complete surprise. ¡°I¡­ This is¡­ Thank you, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The ferret took a moment to dip his head towards me. ¡°Suffice it to say, it is¡­ exceedingly rare to encounter those who consider my house¡¯s practices to be anything but unsavory and undignified.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not saying that trade itself is inherently unproblematic and without its own unique brand of issues, mind you. But what I am saying is that giving commoners under your¡­ care, the right to empower themselves like this, is certainly more noble in my book than simply keeping them from their aspirations.¡± The ferret nodded deeply once more, as a smile formed across his face. ¡°I will take that as an¡­ unusual compliment then. Thank you.¡± There was a genuine sense of giddiness that remained pervasive throughout his voice now, as the undercurrents of skittishness was punctuated by an overall renewed sense of pride. One that seemed otherwise nonexistent whenever he was in the presence of other nobles. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. I just say things as I see them, Etholin. Which¡­ given the time, probably means I should be saying goodbye for now.¡± I responded, segueing into my departure from our little back and forths, as the Rontalisrealmer began walking off¡­ one massive staircase at a time.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Healing Wing. Local Time: 2055 Hours. Emma I wasted no time in storming the grand lobby of the healing wing. But the same could be said for the rejection I received upon arrival. As a lone, tired-looking hooded elf looked up from the reception desk. Or at least, what I assumed was a reception desk hidden under piles upon piles of books, scrolls, and endless sheets of paperwork. ¡°I am afraid I cannot divulge the names of either student or faculty currently admitted within the in-patient wards of the healing wing.¡± The sullen, sleep-deprived looking elf apprentice spoke through a malaise that even I felt sorry for. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not exactly looking for a student or faculty member per se, she¡¯s an outsider that I¡¯m pretty sure was admitted here by either Professor Chiska or Professor Vanavan.¡± I attempted to clarify as politely, but insistently, as I could. However, all I received in response was a tired sigh, as the half-lidded eyes of the elf barely even flinched despite the obvious annoyance I was causing her. ¡°I am afraid I cannot divulge the names of any student, faculty, or others currently admitted within the in-patient wards of the healing wing.¡± She reiterated, simply resorting to adding a clause to a canned response that I quickly found out to be a pre-written script beneath one of her many stacks of documents. ¡°Can I just take a look or something? I promise I¡¯ll be out of your hair quick.¡± A pause punctuated that question, as the elf plonked her gloved finger on her pre-written script, before landing on an answer which she read verbatim. ¡°I am sorry, but outsiders are not allowed inside past visiting hours. Please try again during visiting hours.¡± She spoke slowly through a yawn, her consciousness threatening to leave her mortal coil. Looking around, I knew that forcing or even sneaking my way in probably wasn¡¯t the best way of going about this, given the sheer number of gargoyles present. So I disengaged for now. Though it was clear I wasn¡¯t the only one to disengage from this battle. PLONK! ¡­ My rear view cameras confirmed that the elf in question had finally succumbed to the call of slumber, papers now scattering following her unfortunate face-plant; a golem soon arrived to drop a heavy blanket over her now-lifeless form.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower. Level 23. Residence 30. Local Time: 2115 Hours. Emma I arrived to find a relatively relaxed atmosphere in the dorm. With Thacea silently reading a book, downing cups of tea in the process. Thalmin having had just returned from the gym, his attention now entirely consumed by the small batch of homework I just remembered we were assigned. And finally, Ilunor, busy doing much of the same. It was almost a bit of an emotional whiplash to be seeing everyone in full school-mode following the back-to-back adventures. I could almost forgive myself for forgetting we even had grades to worry about sometimes. Almost, being the operative word here. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Do you think you can do my homework for me?¡± [...] ¡°Please? It¡¯s mission-sensitive.¡± ¡°Does the mission operator wish to classify school assignments as [mission sensitive]?¡± ¡°Yes. We¡¯re not on Earth, so this doesn¡¯t fall under the VI/AI Academic Misconduct Act okay? Please just dedicate some of your processing power for this; you can allocate the bare minimum if you want to. Just print it out or something when you¡¯re done, I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll be fine.¡± [...] ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Thanks, EVI.¡± I beamed back, taking a sigh of relief for actually being able to expedite one of the more laborious tasks here. ¡°Homework, I¡¯m guessing?¡± I asked the gang, who all nodded, save for Thacea. ¡°I¡¯ve already completed my assignments. You may take a look if you wish to, Emma.¡± Thacea offered candidly. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s fine, I¡¯m finishing mine right now actually.¡± I beamed out brightly, tapping my helmet in the process, preemptively addressing the questions which were undoubtedly coming my way. ¡°In here, just processing it all as we speak.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Ilunor responded, half-unamused, half-tired from my shenanigans. ¡°I am not even going to dignify that with a response.¡± He sighed, choosing to disengage¡­ which was probably the best thing he could do tonight. Getting into the existence of the EVI, was a whole can of worms unto itself. ¡°Fair enough. In any case, I had a question I wanted to ask you guys about. Several, actually.¡± I began as I sat down on the couch. ¡°Go ahead, Emma?¡± Thacea acknowledged, choosing to sit opposite of me. ¡°The search for Rila is currently hitting a bit of a roadblock, so I¡¯ve come up with two paths I¡¯d like to run by you.¡± ¡­ 10 Minutes Later ¡­ ¡°Correction; you have one path ahead of you, Emma.¡± Thacea answered definitively, leaving no room for argument or discourse. ¡°I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s not the idea where we attach Rila¡¯s bracelet to a drone, then having it circle around the medical wing to see if it¡¯d activate?¡± ¡°No, Emma.¡± Thacea doubled-down, in a way that only a stern partner could. With a sigh and a firm grip of her forehead, she quickly continued. ¡°It is your second idea that I am more comfortable with. Though this begs the distressing question as to exactly how and why the more sane idea was your second thought¡­¡± ¡°Heh¡­ I guess I¡¯m just a bit impatient is all.¡± I responded, awkwardly rubbing the back of my helmet in the process. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll go with the more straightforward option then. We¡¯ll just ask Chiska about the whole Rila thing whenever she¡¯s free, and then push for a visit. It¡­ does seem like the underwhelming way of going about it though¡­¡± ¡°Yes, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged with an exasperated breath. ¡°¡®Underwhelming¡¯ often is the best way of going about it. Following which, should the results of this venture prove questionable, we will then discuss the possibility of escalation.¡± ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right. It¡¯s the same idea with just asking for the book from Larial instead of stealing it, I guess.¡± I nodded in understanding, Thacea taking a moment to exhale a sigh of relief in tempering my more flighty ideas. ¡°You mentioned you had more topics to discuss, Emma?¡± Thacea questioned, following the downing of an entire cup of tea. ¡°Yeah, actually, two things. The first being the whole ¡®Class Sovereign¡¯ situation.¡± ¡°Ah¡­ I assume the would-be crown-aspirers are finally out on their floats?¡± Ilunor chimed in with a dismissive puff. ¡°Yeah, actually ¡ª Qiv and Auris. They explained the whole thing to me already, but I was wondering¡ª¡± ¡°Oh please don¡¯t tell me you¡¯ve gotten yourself into another quagmire, Emma¡­¡± Ilunor muttered out with both hands covering his face, muffling his voice in the process. ¡°Erm, no. I kinda just got outta there as soon as I realized what it was all about.¡± Ilunor stopped to give me a more relaxed look. ¡°Oh.¡± He responded, matching Thacea¡¯s sigh of relief. ¡°If anything, I was wondering since we¡¯re like¡­ what¡­ currently the fifth in terms of points, if any of you were thinking of running for Class Sovereign?¡± ¡°The thought did cross my mind.¡± Ilunor acknowledged. ¡°However, following the incident with a certain black-robed professor¡­ any boons which could have been gained from such a coveted title would almost certainly be overshadowed by the consequences of being trapped in close proximity to the black-robed professor¡¯s office.¡± The Vunerian seethed, his eyes landing on my own. ¡°You can see why that would be less than optimal, considering my experiences, and our current standing?¡± ¡°Yeah, that makes sense.¡± I nodded. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually very reasonable of you, Ilunor. I¡¯d thought that you¡¯d be chasing after titles like¡ª¡± ¡°A climber of the social ladder as I may be, I know how to make informed decisions.¡± He interjected. ¡°But only after you¡¯ve had your eyes opened by a near-death experience.¡± Thalmin chimed in, garnering a glare from the Vunerian. ¡°I¡¯m simply saying that life can be a harsh teacher. Being close to death, means you have a renewed appreciation for life and caution.¡± ¡°Ugh, I¡¯ve had enough of your Havenbrockian platitudes for one day, Prince Thalmin.¡± Ilunor rebutted, garnering a shrug from Thalmin as he just as quickly dropped back down into his homework. ¡°You know, I think you made the right call here, Ilunor. A silly quest where you go around trying to find a sword is no basis for a system of governance, not even a student government. Strange fish people lying in lakes, distributing swords, is no basis for a system of government. I mean, if I went around saying I was emperor of the halls just because some slimy frog creature lobbed a trident at me, everyone would call me crazy! Supreme executive power, derived from some¡­ farcical aquatic ceremony is just ridiculous!¡± Silence threatened to creep in following that, but Thacea was quick to make short work of any lulls in the conversation. ¡°And your next point, Emma?¡± This group was a tough crowd sometimes. ¡°Oh, well, this is actually kind of a big one. And I¡¯m actually curious why you guys seem to be rather lax about this whole thing.¡± I began, garnering a cock of Thacea¡¯s head. ¡°It¡¯s about tomorrow¡¯s house choosing ceremony. I¡¯m just wondering what it actually entails, and why you guys seem so calm about it.¡± That question seemed to snap something in Ilunor¡¯s mind, as he got up from his pile of homework, and walked purposefully right towards me. ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious, earthrealmer? It is because we have given up.¡± My brow quickly perked up at that, as I turned to both Thacea and Thalmin with a confused glance, obscured by the helmet. ¡°What?¡± ¡°If it needs to be spelled out, the house choosing ceremony is an explicitly magic-oriented affair. The moment you sat at our table, joining our peer group, was the moment where we all understood we would have practically no chance at accruing the points necessary to get first-pick of our desired house. Moreover, the moment you proved yourself to be entirely manaless, was the moment where any lingering hope completely died.¡± Ilunor surmised with a frustrated zeal. ¡°Is¡­ is this true, guys?¡± I turned to face both Thacea and Thalmin, the latter seemed to be putting up a positive face, hiding the emotions stirring within. ¡°As much as it pains me to acknowledge that something this¡­ superficial was another cause of my early grievances against you, Emma ¡ª I must stand by the truth and admit that, yes, this was the case. However, looking back at the circumstances now¡­ that sense of frustration seems so far away and childish in retrospect. The houses seem so small now. Especially compared to what we¡¯ve gone through, and what we can build together in spite of Nexian conventions.¡± Thalmin¡¯s reply felt¡­ so unabashedly genuine, so much so that I didn¡¯t know how to process this sudden influx of thoughts and feelings. ¡°Actually, Ilunor, I had no such drive for the House Choosing ceremony from the onset, given my tainted status.¡± Thacea shrugged. ¡°I understood, from the moment I entered that portal, that the house choosing ceremony would be yet another event to be tolerated.¡± ¡°But I had such hopes.¡± Ilunor countered, though his tone of voice was rife with a sense of defeatism. ¡°That is your answer, earthrealmer. The house choosing ceremony is simply a battle we cannot fight.¡± A silence finally descended on our group, as I was left to ponder everything. ¡°So¡­ what exactly is expected from this whole ¡®house choosing¡¯ ceremony thing? Like, will there be challenges like during PE, or¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s something of a show of magical prowess, Emma.¡± Thacea explained. ¡°With limited guidelines as to how this is done, simply that all displays must be conducted exclusively through magical processes.¡± ¡°So¡­ a magical talent show?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a reductive way to put it.¡± Ilunor acknowledged through a soot-filled puff. ¡°Please understand that this isn¡¯t at all a serious matter, Emma.¡± Thacea clarified with a smile. ¡°It¡¯s ultimately another mechanism of the Academy¡¯s control.¡± Thalmin acknowledged with a nod. ¡°And given everything we¡¯ve been through, it¡¯s just not really worth the trouble.¡± The next several minutes would be spent wracking my head around the whole situation. Whilst I understood that everyone had more or less moved past what was effectively a tool of Nexian social conventions, I still couldn¡¯t help but to feel just a little bit responsible for potentially ruining what could have at least been a fun event for the gang ¡ª an opportunity for them to flex their magical skills. I wanted to at least give them a chance to flex in front of the student body. [INTERNAL PROCESS COMPLETED: HOMEWORK.] ¡°Note to Operator: Bare minimum memory allocation was used for this process. Human review is recommended.¡± It was then that a lightbulb moment hit me, and my eyes lit up like fireworks. This event didn¡¯t need to involve my usual tricks. It didn¡¯t need me to overcome or compensate for my inability to practice magic. Drones, fireworks, light shows ¡ª all ¡®disqualifiers¡¯ ¡ª just weren¡¯t needed in this event. This was their show. I just needed to do the bare minimum. And there was at least one magic trick I could do whilst adding something to the score, without detracting from the gang¡¯s performance. ¡°Actually¡­ I have an idea.¡± I offered with a wide, mischievous grin. Chapter 108: The Bare Minimum ¡°Nothing?!¡± The Lupinor and Vunerian pair parroted. ¡°Yup! You heard me right ¡ª nothing!¡± I acknowledged through a cheeky grin, and a tone of voice that dripped with goofy excitement. ¡°It¡¯s your time to shine after all!¡± ¡°You spit in the face of what little remains of the pride and dignity of this peer group, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor rebutted, his sooty breaths quickly escalating to small bouts of flame-broiled anger. ¡°I understand the noble intent behind restraint and stoicism, Emma. However I cannot see how your plan to do nothing will address the core issue we face. It¡¯d be tantamount to simply abstaining at this point, which is decidedly a better alternative if your plan is to simply remain on the sidelines whilst we demonstrate our abilities.¡± Thalmin quickly added, before quickly shifting gears to a more concerned tone of voice. ¡°If this is about making a point to sacrifice your image of strength for our sake, then I must make it clear to you that I will not accept an exchange of face.¡± However, before I could respond to both of the pair¡¯s concerns, it was the silent and contemplative Thacea who managed to immediately decipher my cryptic intent, as she turned towards me with a raised brow. ¡°By ¡®doing nothing¡¯, you are alluding to the passive abilities of your armor, aren¡¯t you, Emma?¡± The princess deduced. ¡°Precisely, princess.¡± I grinned widely, and with a soft cackle that almost immediately brought Thalmin over to my side. ¡°Your suit¡¯s mana resistance¡­ is, in the eyes of the rules, a form of magic in and of itself.¡± The lupinor spoke with a wide toothy grin, his tune completely shifting upon that realization. ¡°I¡¯d hardly consider mana resistance as a display of magical prowess.¡± Ilunor huffed out, before going quiet, his eyes widening at a certain revelation. ¡°Unless¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s paired with equally impressive displays of magic.¡± Thalmin offered, the pair locking eyes right at that moment of clarity. ¡°The higher the forms of magic that are resisted or nullified, the more points the mage behind said resistance will earn.¡± Ilunor concluded, more or less lending credence to what was at first a far-fetched, half-baked idea born out of me reaching. ¡°Sooooo, I¡¯m guessing this checks out then?¡± I asked, prompting the Vunerian to go deep into thought, his brows furrowing in a seriousness that I didn¡¯t often see from him. ¡°Make no mistake, Cadet Emma Booker, this¡­ will serve as the bare minimum towards participation. Though given the previous option of being disqualified or gaining practically no points whatsoever¡­ this will have to do.¡± ¡°Hey, if I¡¯m able to push you guys over the barrier to entry ¡ª to at least contribute something towards participation points ¡ª then that¡¯s a win in my book.¡± I acknowledged with a beaming smile, a fact that the Vunerian seemed to be both annoyed by yet begrudgingly accepting of. ¡°Be that as it may be, we are still woefully behind in preparations for the House Choosing Ceremony.¡± Thacea countered. ¡°Given our prior intent to abstain, we lack the meticulous planning towards what other peer groups would have undoubtedly already¡ª¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS THWACK! A leather-bound binder brimming full of loose papers slammed against the coffee table in front of us, the Vunerian proudly displaying his signature cocksure grin, as if waiting for this precise moment. ¡°Correction, my dear princess. We are, for all intents and purposes, more than adequately prepared for this very eventuality.¡± The smugness on the Vunerian¡¯s face could only be challenged by sheer pride and self-satisfaction underlying every syllable of his voice. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯ve been planning for this all along?¡± I asked, cocking my head in abject confusion. ¡°Yes. Have you not been following, earthrealmer? LIfe is a game of theater, and what greater theater is there than these calls to public performance? Of course I¡¯d have been thoroughly prepared for this very eventuality!¡± ¡°You literally just said you gave up because of me.¡± I countered bluntly, causing the Vunerian¡¯s features to waver somewhat. ¡°Well I¡ª, you see¡ª¡± ¡°Ilunor¡­ have you been choreographing and composing for a show that you never intended to join?¡± Thalmin doubled down, cocking his head in the process as he began rummaging through the folder, revealing pieces of what I could only describe as storyboards, all of which prominently featured a certain Vunerian taking the lead, with a familiar-looking avinor and lupinor present by his side. I didn¡¯t know where to start. Especially as Thalmin began flipping through page after page of genuinely well-sketched out storyboards. Though the further he flipped through them, the more intricate they seemed to become¡­ at least when it came to Ilunor. This was because the roughly drawn avinor and lupinor eventually stopped appearing on the sketches entirely, replaced instead by vague stick-figure looking silhouettes, with seemingly all artistic effort drained and redirected towards the star of the show ¡ª Ilunor. The disparity between Ilunor and the rest of the drawn figures was striking, with the Vunerian¡¯s features greatly exaggerated, and his feats of magic drawn to such a degree that left whatever stick figures were in the background to become mere specks on the page. Moreover, he even went into the effort of coloring and animating a few of these pieces, though both the color and animation was entirely reserved for himself and his feats of magic. These explorations into the Vunerian¡¯s artistic endeavors were eventually cut short by the noble in question snatching the pages right out of the lupinor¡¯s hands, his face puffing with incredulity. ¡°I will have you know that there was a period of time, prior to the loss of all hope, where I had assumed the earthrealmer was in fact not truly manaless. It was within that short span of time that I had taken it upon myself to begin planning for the House Choosing Ceremony.¡± The Vunerian clarified, though this explanation brought up more questions than it did answers. ¡°But there¡¯s gotta be at least two hundred or so pages there, Ilunor. How the heck did you have the time, in between running errands for Mal¡¯tory, to actually sketch all of this out?¡± I countered, half out of disbelief, and half due to confusion as to the sudden and unexpected appearance of this more artistically inclined side of the noble. Though given his track record and stated interests¡­ I should¡¯ve honestly seen this coming. ¡°That¡¯s because I only sketched five of those pages at the Academy, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor responded with a sigh. That answer was more than enough to clue me into what was going on, as a cheeky grin formed across my face. ¡°That explains why Thacea and Thalmin only appear in a few of these.¡± I began. ¡°Exactly.¡± Ilunor nodded. ¡°The rest of these works were sketched prior to the Academy then.¡± I stifled a giggle. ¡°Ilunor¡­ were these your screenplay manuscripts? Your pitch pages? Featuring you as the main self-inser¡ª er, I mean, protagonist?¡± The Vunerian cocked his head in genuine confusion at the first two questions, so much so that he seemed to have ignored the soft jab of that last question. His eyes narrowed as if he was trying to decipher the not-too-insignificant cultural barrier that existed behind the intent of the first two questions, as I doubted a clear and direct parallel existed in the Nexus for them. ¡­ Or so I thought. ¡°I am¡­ flattered that you would liken my magical choreography to the concept sketches of a learned artist, earthrealmer.¡± The Vunerian managed out under a visibly confused expression. ¡°I did not know you were capable of such adulation.¡± The Vunerian paused, before shifting directions once more. ¡°This is not to say I seek your approval, of course. Far from it. I am merely surprised it took you this long to shower me with my rightful praise.¡± My expression took a drastic dip back into annoyance at the easily-inflated ego of the Vunerian. As such, I immediately reached for my newfound weapon against this very eventuality, rummaging through one of the shopping bags¡­ and pulling out a certain orb-like facsimile of the puffed up noble in front of me. I promptly squeezed it. ¡®Your worship pleases me!¡¯ Landing on the perfect voiceline. ¡°Careful Ilunor, you¡¯re starting to become so much like your cousin over here.¡± I chuckled out, eliciting another flame-broiled pout from the Vunerian. ¡°Ahem.¡± Thacea suddenly butted in, stifling Thalmin¡¯s growing amusement at the situation, and Ilunor¡¯s outburst. ¡°If I may, even with these admittedly well planned displays of magical choreography, we still have less than half a day before the start of the house choosing ceremony.¡± ¡°I fail to see the problem, princess.¡± Ilunor responded bluntly. ¡°We lack the practice and coordination, not to mention the time to properly address issues which may arise from an unproven performance. Moreover, we still need to find a means of introducing Emma into any one of these¡­ drafts.¡± ¡°I for one think that¡¯s relatively simple!¡± I offered with a cheery smile. ¡°Just end the show off with a bang. Preferably not a literal bang of course, but a magical one. Aim pure mana spells at me, and just watch as the highest level spells you muster fizzle out on contact with my armor. I think that¡¯d be a hell of an ending.¡± Everyone paused, turning to one another before nodding in agreement. ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal, earthrealmer. Your little display will be the second to last sequence in the final act so as to not put you in the limelight ¡ª as you requested.¡± He reiterated, really pushing for his time in the limelight. ¡°I have no objections to that.¡± I nodded nonchalantly. ¡°It¡¯s the least I can do after messing this up for everyone. Besides, I¡¯m only there to fulfill the bare minimum, the rest really is up to you guys.¡± An excitable Ilunor eagerly took over the conversation following that point, as the entire group descended into an intense discussion that reminded me a lot of a cross between band, cheerleading, and theater practice back in high school¡­ not that I participated in any of those extracurriculars. Though the ordering-in of late-dinner ¡ª courtesy of Ilunor ¡ª definitely put me in mind of group project all-nighters. Regardless, I couldn¡¯t help but to feel a certain sense of weird¡­ separation during the whole thing. And it wasn¡¯t for any lack of participation. Because throughout it all, the same sense of group participation remained strong. So strong in fact that Ilunor and Thalmin, literal polar opposites, began vibing in a way I hadn¡¯t seen them do before. Combining their strengths, they pooled together ideas from their respective specialties, coalescing the former¡¯s artistic flair with the latter¡¯s martial inclinations ¡ª creating a spectacle worthy of Acela¡¯s Broadway and Venus¡¯ Cloud Nine. I even managed to pitch several key scenes from the aforementioned theatres, Ilunor gladly accepting many of them, whilst rejecting just as many. All in all, the whole brainstorming and workshopping process was just plain fun. However, in spite of many of my suggestions making it through, and my own act being set in stone, the lack of being able to actually participate due to the lack of magic¡­ was just a little bit disappointing. Despite that though, and to Ilunor¡¯s credit, the workshopping was completed in a little under two hours. Following which, we each gladly retired to our rooms. With the lupinor and vunerian duo looking much more excited than me and the princess. ¡°So it is settled then? We will pick as late a time slot as we can so as to ensure we have ample time for the memorization of our respective roles.¡± Ilunor announced, prompting a final nod of approval before we went our own ways off to bed. Or at least, the boys probably did. As what might have been the end to the night was merely the beginning of another chapter for me and the princess. The latter wordlessly entered the bathroom. Whilst I began busying myself with the laundry list of minor activities with varying degrees of mission-relevance. The first being homework. A brief review through tired half-lidded eyes was all I needed to approve most of it, as the EVI more or less hit the nail on the head for both Vanavan and Articord¡¯s classes. The second time-consuming task was the continuation of the long term nutritional viability testing of local foodstuffs. Or to put it simply¡­ shoving magic dinner into the anti-magic microwave. The task was completed in seconds, but it¡¯d be hours before I¡¯d reap the rewards of a hard day¡¯s work ¡ª cold, flavorless leftovers. I should actually try grabbing some of that ¡®commoner food¡¯ from the markets later¡­ I thought to myself. The third, and perhaps the task which would become the bane of the EVI¡¯s existence, was the planning and design of a housing unit for the wand.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Designate new operational objective ¡ª Project Wand Step for Mankind.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± The back and forths into the specific parameters of potential housing units were tossed around following that, occupying my mind as my body went on autopilot for the fourth and probably least important task of the night ¡ª unpacking the spoils of shopping. Glassware, alchemy sets, pens, stationeries, and a whole host of random knick-knacks were quickly arranged by my tent. With the most important item out of all of them, Kobold King, being placed atop of a large cushiony throne atop of one of the crates. The sight of him ruling from on high tickled the goober deep inside of me. And by the end of it, the EVI and I had come to a solid enough first prototype for the wand¡¯s housing unit ¡ª what amounted to a spherical metal orb capable of multi-axial rotation with a full six degrees of freedom mounted on a pole attached to the suit¡¯s ¡®backpack¡¯. It honestly reminded me of one of those old mast mounted sights on helicopters and rotor-based craft. And it would¡¯ve probably looked more akin to that, if it was mounted on my head rather than my backpack. Printing it out would require the sacrifice of a modest amount of metals, which the wealth cube provided in spades. Though the estimated time to print and calibrate it¡­ probably meant I wouldn¡¯t be able to use it tomorrow. Regardless, the EVI now had its work cut out for it, as the printers within the tent got to work, and I finally managed to just rest. ¡­ ¡°Emma?¡± A familiar voice jolted me back to reality. ¡°Are you feeling well?¡± Thacea asked, prompting me to snap my eyes towards the time on my HUD. ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell if you were busy with your¡­ internal meditations, or if you were asleep inside of your armor.¡± I let out a skittish yawn in response, stretching in the process. ¡°I-it¡¯s the latter, princess.¡± I managed out awkwardly. ¡°That probably wasn¡¯t becoming of me, sorry.¡± ¡°That¡¯s quite alright.¡± The princess responded reassuringly, sitting opposite of me as we just took in the silence together. ¡°You seem¡­ preoccupied with something, Thacea.¡± I finally broke the silence. ¡°Is there something you wanted to talk about?¡± ¡°I was actually meaning to broach a similar sentiment, Emma.¡± The princess offered with a polite smile. ¡°It¡¯s about the House Choosing Ceremony, isn¡¯t it?¡± We spoke at literally the same time, talking over one another, causing both of our eyes to grow wide with mutual amusement, and lightening both our spirits. ¡°You read my mind, princess.¡± I chuckled. ¡°If only it were so easy¡­¡± Thacea politely reciprocated with a teasing giggle of her own. ¡°The armor sorta gets in the way of the fun of that, huh?¡± I shot back with a sly smirk and a cock of my head. ¡°Indeed¡­ and so much more if I may add.¡± The princess began with a playful breath, eliciting a small chuckle from my end, before promptly and nervously jumping back into her concerned tone of voice. ¡°Moreover, if I were to be so brazen, I assume that the armor is likewise the cause of your less than enthusiastic spirits about the ceremony?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ well¡­ it¡¯s in the same vein, really. But it¡¯s just a dumb silly concern; nothing serious.¡± I answered truthfully. ¡°A concern is still a concern, Emma.¡± Thacea replied succinctly, urging me to spill the beans. ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s just¡­ I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s just a bit disappointing that I don¡¯t get to be part of the ¡®action¡¯ as it were. Like, don¡¯t get me wrong, I¡¯m not one to ogle at magic. You¡¯ve seen what I¡¯m capable of, so it¡¯s nothing about lacking confidence to match it or anything. It¡¯s just¡­ I don¡¯t know, I guess I sorta just wish I could join in on the fun. It¡¯s just a stupid thought, really.¡± I shrugged. ¡°I imagine most would be rejoicing at having the least amount of work in a collaborative effort, Emma.¡± Thacea countered with a sly chirp. This prompted me to reach the back of my head awkwardly. ¡°Well erm¡­ heh, I guess I get a bit fidgety with nothing to do.¡± ¡°The adherence to personal responsibility is commendable.¡± Thacea acknowledged. ¡°And your concern is one that I can both sympathize and empathize with.¡± That answer gave me the on-ramp I needed to address my own concerns, as I directed this impromptu therapy session right back at the princess. ¡°I imagine that¡¯s probably because of your self-admitted reluctance to the House Choosing Ceremony from the onset, right?¡± ¡°Indeed.¡± The princess nodded, going silent, before letting out a sigh in acknowledgement. ¡°I am¡­ not very enthusiastic about displaying my magical capabilities. For as I stated previously, my¡­ affliction is one which is directly affected by my emotional state. And despite my learned self-control, the risk of overexertion leading to the exposure of even a hint of miasma, is a scenario which constantly hangs over my head.¡± I immediately leaned forward following that self-admission, attempting to bridge the gap, despite the layers of composalite in the way. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this if you don¡¯t want to, Thacea.¡± I offered earnestly. ¡°You misunderstand me, Emma. I can manage myself. I¡­ merely have concerns which only I must come to terms with.¡± The princess responded immediately. ¡°I am not one to pull away from my obligations. This is something we likely have in common, yes?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess you¡¯re right on the money in that regard, princess.¡± I acknowledged with a nod. ¡°But I just want you to know that you¡¯re not alone in this, alright? Like I said on that very first day, I couldn¡¯t give less of a crap about taint, miasma, or what-have-you. It¡¯s all top-down Nexian bigotry to me.¡± I took a moment to let out a breath, as a smile slowly formed over my next few words. ¡°I¡¯m with you all the way, Thacea.¡± The princess¡¯ eyes widened at that, her typically composed gaze wavered if only for a moment, before she managed to recompose herself with a simple yet still-as-articulate response. ¡°As am I, Emma.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower en route to the Hall of Champions. Local time: 0845. Emma I managed to sleep in. Or at least, that¡¯s what waking up at 8:30 felt like now given my schedule¡­ The opposite could be said for Ilunor however, as I met the blue thing in the living room jittering all about the place, a chalice of some brown-red liquid held tightly in one hand, and the scripts to his performance in the other. A brief back and forth with the amused-looking Thalmin told me all that I needed to know. Not that it needed much pointing out. ¡°Our Vunerian comrade has been downing rejuvenation spritzes and elixirs all night, Emma.¡± The prince chuckled. ¡°HOW CAN YOU BE SO CALM SO AS TO REGARD THIS GREATEST OF OPPORTUNITIES WITH SUCH NONCHALANCE, PRINCE THALMIN?!¡± The Vunerian shrieked out, his hand furiously working on the ¡®final touches¡¯ of the choreography for the show. The prince shrugged the nexian noble off as he responded simply. ¡°Nothing truly catches you off guard once you¡¯ve been ambushed in your breeches.¡± That response didn¡¯t seem to sit well with the Vunerian, even as we made our way out of the room and back into the halls, en route to the House Choosing Ceremony. ¡°You know, there¡¯s a quote from someone famous back home, Ilunor.¡± I began. ¡°I think it goes something along the lines of: ¡®To achieve great things, two things are needed; a plan, and not quite enough time.¡¯¡± ¡°THAT¡¯S BECAUSE YOUR PEOPLE ARE OUT OF THEIR MINDS, CADET EMMA BOOKER!¡± The Vunerian shouted through a jittery breath, as I turned to the rest of the gang with a shrug, accepting the Vunerian¡¯s excitements as an irreconcilable part of today¡¯s happenings. A few back and forths were had between the gang, with Thalmin seeming the most confident out of all of us, especially as we arrived back into the Victorian-esque gymnasium proper. It was here, after walking through the front door dressing room, and back into the space of my greatest public victory yet, where we were ushered up towards the bleachers, filled to the brim with faces which the EVI did not recognize. Though a quick glance at their school robes made it clear exactly who they were. Upper yearsmen. Indeed, about half of the stadium was currently packed with upper yearsmen, all of whom were seated beneath banners, giving off the vibes of a cross between the European Federation¡¯s intense soccer culture, and a medieval-style tournament in the typical fantasy sense. Though the former vibe was strong with this crowd, as some amongst the upper years went so far as to dress up in house colors, waving flags and banners of their houses as we arrived. The mileage between the fervor of house pride did seem to decrease with each house though, as the maroon and orange house on the very left of the stadium seemed to be the most invested in displaying their pride, whilst the gray and white house on the very right seemed almost silent by comparison. It was the middle of the stadium however that seemed to be the most dressed up for the occasion, as a massive stand rising up a good two-three stories rose up from the field, with a row of professors sitting behind the same banquet table as the one seen in the grand dining hall. Though this time, the white cloth of the table was once again replaced by the intertwining colors of all four houses. ¡°First-years of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts! Welcome! Welcome to the House Choosing Ceremony!¡± The dean proclaimed from the middle seat, standing up as he did so, prompting everyone in the stadium to follow suit. ¡°It is on this day that each peer group will have the chance to prove themselves in the eyes of the faculty. As your magical potential, and the means by which you wield it, will be ascertained and scrutinized; such that an objective score can be assigned to each peer group. Following which, the privilege of choosing your peer group¡¯s house will be bestowed in order of most points, to the least points.¡± The Dean explained, more or less clearing up any confusions I had on exactly why this magical talent show was so important. This system¡­ more or less fostered a de-facto state of hierarchical stratification. There was no way the highest scoring peer group would choose a house composed of lesser-scoring groups from the previous years. And sure, there might have been a time where people acted in good faith, choosing houses based on their personalities or whatever. But when was good faith ever the case with the Nexus? ¡°To these ends, I will allow the Protectors of each House to declare themselves. Following which, we will be accepting applications for the day¡¯s demonstration timeslots.¡± The dean concluded, handing off the floor to four professors who stood up in rapid succession. The first, being Vanavan, sporting a wizard¡¯s hat dressed up in maroon and orange colors. ¡°I represent House Shiqath, a proud house bearing the name of His Eternal Majesty¡¯s first adventuring compatriot, Shiqath of Sanguine Ichor, Slayer of the Old Gods, First Inquisitor of the Realm.¡± The maroon and orange house began cheering and hollering at that, drawing the attention of everyone in the stands. The second to speak up was Professor Articord, sporting a cravat consisting of silver and bronze embroidery, matching the colors of the second house¡¯s banners. ¡°I represent House Finthorun, a storied house named in honor of His Eternal Majesty¡¯s second adventuring compatriot, whose legacy built the very foundations of the Academy we stand upon ¡ª Gilded-Gleaming Finthorun. The man who slew the deep myths of old.¡± A similar, yet not as pronounced series of cheers quickly followed from the house in question. Following this, the third to address the crowd would be Professor Chiska, who sported a large and almost comically long scarf, bearing earthy green and glistening blue colors that looked almost like flowing water. ¡°I represent House Thun''Yundaris, the bold and brave house bearing the name of Fortressfell Thun''Yundaris. His Eternal Majesty¡¯s third adventuring compatriot, the living citadel whose mountainous bravery and initiative tore the heavens asunder.¡± A series of soft golf claps followed Chiska¡¯s announcement, earning a sharp glare from her, forcing out a series of begrudging hoots and hollers from her house. The end of these proclamations was marked by Belnor¡¯s unenthused announcement, as she stood up and quickly adjusted her stone gray and luminous white shawl. ¡°I represent House Vikzhura, of Garn Vikzhura, His Eternal Majesty¡¯s fourth compatriot.¡± Belnor seemed to stop there, garnering the perplexed look of the rest of the faculty, which prompted her to sigh as she quickly added. ¡°The pathfinder who brought forth the light of truth to the deepest and darkest depths of evil, paving the way for righteous triumph.¡± A series of slow claps followed this, which transitioned right into the more laborious part of the morning¡¯s activities. Roll call. Or more specifically ¡ª time slot management. This went on for forever, or precisely thirty minutes, but at least Ilunor got what he wanted from it. ¡°And to Lord Rularia¡¯s peer group, goes the final time slot of the day!¡± The last time slot. Following which, the dean finally stood up once more. ¡°Thank you to all professors for representing your houses, and to Professor Chiska, for your excellent management of time.¡± The feline professor bowed in response, just as the dean turned back to the gathered students. ¡°You will all have precisely one hour before the first magical pageantry commences. May you all use this time wisely.¡± That announcement was quickly followed up by the departure of the entire year group, as it was clear everyone was going back to make their final preparations. The same could be said for the rest of the gang, save for me, as I promptly approached Chiska in the midst of the crowd. ¡°Do you have a moment, professor?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The professor nodded, deploying a privacy spell in the process. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°If you¡¯ll allow me to be blunt, professor, I have a very important question I need to ask.¡± ¡°By all means.¡± Chiska responded warily, as if waiting for a bombshell to drop, heightening up my concerns over some malicious involvement in Rila¡¯s well being. ¡°Where¡¯s Rila?¡± ¡­ ¡°Oh! Is that what you were worried about?¡± The professor¡¯s features lightened up almost immediately. ¡°I¡¯d assumed this had something to do with today¡¯s activities or something of that nature.¡± She clarified, before returning back to her jovial self. ¡°I am a mage of my vows, Cadet Emma Booker. I not only know where Rila is, but I can take you to her, if you so desire.¡± My heart skipped a beat at that, as I couldn¡¯t believe I finally hit a breakthrough moment. And it didn¡¯t even require jury-rigging a drone, or even grappling like a goober, to accomplish. ¡°I¡¯d like that very much, actually.¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. En Route to the Healing Wing. Local Time: 0910 Hours. Emma In the spirit of cosmic balance, it would seem that the expediting of one questline meant the complications of another. I could only hope that the gang wouldn¡¯t be too mad at my momentary absence. The first part of our walk towards the healing wing was strangely silent. However, this eventually changed as the crowds cleared the closer we got to the healing wing. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS But only after the application of a cone of silence. ¡°I am certain you may have some questions, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± She began, her tone of voice mixed somewhere between her usual upbeat demeanor, and a sense of serious apprehension. ¡°I am giving you the opportunity to ask, though please do keep your questions within reason. I can only answer so much, after all.¡± ¡°Of course, professor.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°First off, if everything with Rila is as I¡¯d expect it to be, then I just wanted to give you my preemptive thanks for keeping your promise.¡± The professor perked up a brow at this, as she leveled a sly yet calculating gaze my way. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be too quick to dispense gratitudes just yet.¡± ¡°Wha¡ª?¡± ¡°Which is to say, I can neither confirm nor dismiss your concerns, since I am without knowledge of what it is you are expecting.¡± The professor promptly interjected with a polite and reassuring smile. ¡°Oh, right, sorry. I¡­ well¡­ I expect her to be in decent health for one. As in, being provided the best care that¡¯s available.¡± ¡°As one might expect, yes.¡± The professor acknowledged with a nod. ¡°Secondly, I expect that she¡¯d be¡­ well¡­ how do I say this politely¡­¡± I took a moment to pause, thinking my words through carefully. ¡°I expect her to be the exact same when she¡¯s discharged, as she was when she was being admitted.¡± ¡°¡®The same¡¯ in regards to¡­?¡± Chiska insisted. ¡°Well, to be blunt professor ¡ª with regards to any binding spells or contracts or what-have-you.¡± I stated plainly. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that out of the many good things I have to say about the wonderful world of magic, that these two topics have come close to spoiling the whole experience for me.¡± I added in as diplomatic of an approach as I could. Chiska regarded those words with a contemplative nod, breaking my gaze for just a moment to admire the view outside ¡ª most notably, the fields surrounding the gymnasium currently brimming with magical activity. ¡°Speaking frankly, Cadet Emma Booker, I believe that is a sentiment shared between both you and I.¡± The professor spoke with a level of earnesty I hadn¡¯t yet seen from anyone but Sorecar¡­ though perhaps a bit more restrained and composed than the aforementioned armorer. ¡°To those ends, I can assure you that there has been nothing of the sort done to Trade Apprentice Lartia-Siv-Rel. For so long as she is in my care, I have assured that all will be ¡®as expected¡¯ from our promise.¡± My eyes narrowed at one specific detail, despite the initial sense of elation from Chiska¡¯s rather altruistic views. ¡°Lartia-Siv-Rel, professor?¡± I attempted to clarify in as few words as I could, garnering a cock of the feline. ¡°Perceptive.¡± The professor nodded with respect. ¡°Either you¡¯ve had prior contact with the girl, or perhaps you¡¯ve simply picked up quite a bit of knowledge on Nexian class-nomenclature.¡± Chiska allowed that to hang in the air for a moment, a sly grin painted across her face, before moving forward. ¡°Regardless of which it is, I am afraid I cannot divulge anything more as it pertains to that topic. It would be rude of me to tackle such a sensitive matter firmly within the realm of personal affairs. However, I am certain that your perceptiveness will lead you to discerning an answer one way or another.¡± The professor added with a wink, finishing off her end of the conversation just as we arrived in the healing wing proper. This was probably the first time I¡¯d entered the healing wing¡¯s wards without risking disciplinary action. It felt almost weird to be entering its halls, instead of being told off by some apprentice. It felt even weirder to be let through with just a nod from the attending apprentice, and to be let into the bowels of the tower which I¡¯d just scaled a week ago. Just as expected¡­ things felt far bigger on the inside than they had any business of being. Though thankfully, this bigness only applied to two axes, as the long walk up more or less confirmed that verticality was at least still within the realm of euclidean normality. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡± The professor announced, gesturing towards one of the many identical doors in the sterile whitestone and granite tile halls. I felt a bit of apprehension as the professor pushed the door open, my whole body tensing as despite the promises and reassurances, there was still that latent fear that this could be a trap¡­ or worse. Though perhaps a part of me, the part of me expecting normality, was also concerned about the more grounded issues ¡ª namely her state of health. All of these concerns eventually came to a head as we finally entered the room, my eyes and sensors darting towards a lone figure on a lofty bed made of dark, aged wood encrusted in socketed crystals. ¡°Rila?¡± I managed out, taking several tentative strides forwards towards her bedside. [TARGET IFF CONFIRMED: RILA (LARTIA-SIV-REL)] That single word managed to stir the scrub-wearing elf from her malaise, her eyes practically lighting up as soon as they locked on my helmet. ¡°Emma Booker?¡± She spoke meekly. Chapter 109: Deluxe Kobold on Ice Time felt like it¡¯d come to a complete standstill, as conflicted emotions started clashing at the foot of this anticlimactic hill. My expectations had been set at an all-time low following the initial results of my search for Rila. My overactive imagination had assumed the worst, and was now being treated to a scenario it¡¯d considered unrealistic by default. Yet it was relief that managed to triumph above all other emotions, as confusion and disbelief, leading into a momentary state of surreality, all crumbled to the wayside. I felt my racing heart finally pacing down. But most of all, I felt that overwhelming mix of guilt and grief, that constant weight on my shoulders¡­ finally lifting. You will lose people in a fight ¡ª whether it¡¯s the battle buddies you¡¯ve trained with and swore to protect, hostiles who¡¯ll be dying by your hands, or even the unfortunate souls caught in the crossfire. It¡¯s one thing to lose a battle buddy. It¡¯s another to see the light from an enemy¡¯s eyes dim after a trigger pull. But it¡¯s an entirely different feeling to see someone completely unrelated to the fight die in the ensuing chaos. You tell yourself it¡¯s not your fault, and a lot of times it isn¡¯t. But when it comes down to it, the greatest tragedy of all is the loss of those who didn¡¯t sign up to be caught in a battlefield. You carry the memory of their faces, like a rucksack you can¡¯t ever take off. So whatever you do; assess liabilities, mitigate the risk, avoid uncertainty if you can, and should push come to shove ¡ª protect the civvies. Because that extra bit of effort can make all the difference. Aunty Ran¡¯s words rang even truer in my head now. However, unlike the time between Rila¡¯s disappearance to the moment I opened that door, it no longer haunted me with a sense of guilt. Instead, it reaffirmed a lesson I needed to learn ¡ª responsibility for lives outside of the mission profile. The silent reunion was suddenly interrupted by Chiska with a clearing of her throat, pulling me out of my reverie. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have Academy matters to attend to. However, feel free to take all the time you need, Cadet Emma Booker. Whilst encouraged, watching the House Choosing Ceremony as an audience member is not compulsory for first-years, as we understand well the need to catch up on last minute practice.¡± She proclaimed with a wink. ¡°Until this evening!¡± With a door slam and a few words exchanged immediately outside of it, Rila and I were left alone, as we both stared at each other in differing levels of disbelief. However, it was clear that the circumstances behind those looks¡­ were very much different. With Rila¡¯s expressions discolored by some anxiety welling beneath the surface. ¡°I would ask ¡®how are you¡¯, but I guess that¡¯s kinda a redundant question, huh?¡± I attempted to break the silence with some humor. Which sort of worked, if the chuckle followed by a long sigh was any indication. ¡°I must thank fate that your sense of humor is not representative of your intuition and adventuring prowess.¡± ¡°Well, I aim to please.¡± I offered with a shrug. ¡°But seriously, are you doing alright? Have they been treating you okay?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± The elf nodded. ¡°In fact, even in spite of the obvious and expected social derision, I can most certainly say that this is the greatest level of care I have ever experienced.¡± That latter comment forced both my eyes to twitch and my fists to curl up, something that Rila clearly noticed. ¡°Your concern is appreciated, Emma Booker.¡± Rila urged, attempting to defuse the situation. ¡°But considering the degree of care being provided, I can tolerate such¡­ unpleasantries. Life within the Crownland¡¯s commonaries has prepared me for much worse, after all.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t really excuse that behavior, y¡¯know?¡± I managed out with a sigh. ¡°But that¡¯s a bone I¡¯ll have to pick with the healing staff later. I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re okay, Rila.¡± I offered with a smile. ¡°As am I, Emma Booker.¡± She responded earnestly. ¡°Physical injuries aside, how are¡­ things in general?¡± I attempted to slickly transition off into the topic of the elf¡¯s name. Though it was clear my approach left things a bit too much up to interpretation. ¡°They say that idle hands are an insult to the gift of sapiency.¡± Rila began cryptically. ¡°I¡¯ve never truly understood what my parents and seniors meant by this until these recent days.¡± She clarified, her eyes gently sliding towards the blank ceiling. ¡°Never in my life have I been expected to do nothing. Though at first a reprieve for the mind and body, it has now become a form of fatigue of its own.¡± I blinked rapidly at that response, the formality throwing me off. ¡°IIII¡­ think you¡¯re just describing boredom, Rila.¡± I attempted to clarify. The trade apprentice tensed at this, a shy and flustered look coming across her visage, right before she let out a despondent sigh. ¡°That¡­¡± She paused, placing a hand atop of her head, a small smile soon forming followed closely in tow by a chuckle. ¡°You really are a fellow commoner.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°It feels like it¡¯s been so long since our encounter, Emma Booker. I almost thought it to be some form of self-delusion. You must forgive me, for I was just¡­¡± Rila took another breath to steady herself. ¡°Being a bit more formal and playing into your ¡®role¡¯, just to be safe?¡± I interjected with a breath of relief. ¡°Yes.¡± She nodded, her busy eyes hinting at so much more welling beneath the surface. ¡°It¡­ is difficult to really wrap one¡¯s head around. Especially considering your impeccable command of High Nexian. Yet it is in these particular moments, where commoner elocution supersedes High Nexian diction, where I am able to discern the fellow commoner beneath the layer of lexical decorum.¡± Her features shifted once more, as if worrying if she¡¯d finally strayed past a certain line. ¡°I mean no offense by that of course.¡± ¡°Should I be offended by that?¡± I shot back half teasingly, half testing the elf¡¯s self-worth. A brief twinkling in her eyes indicated that something clicked, perhaps a memory of our conversation on that fateful night. It was following that, that the elf shook her head, offering up a smile in the process. ¡°Not if your stories and your own noble actions are anything to go by, Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Aaand just to be sure¡­¡± I paused, unlatching my pouch and pulling out the bracelet. ¡°Let¡¯s see if¡ª¡± I stopped in my tracks as the object of interest did begin glowing, matching the brilliant display of light from the bracelet atop one of the bedside tables. ¡°Yup, there we go.¡± Rila¡¯s expressions spoke loudly despite her silence, though despite said excitement, it was clear she was probably still exhausted from having to effectively heal from an explosion. This prompted me to address the elephant in the room sooner rather than later. ¡°So¡­ I hope you don¡¯t mind me asking, but there was another, perhaps more sensitive topic that I wanted to touch on.¡± ¡°Go ahead?¡± ¡°It¡¯s about your name, Rila. Or rather, your trade-apprentice title.¡± I broached the subject slowly, gauging the elf¡¯s responses which expectedly darkened. ¡°We don¡¯t have to touch the matter if you don¡¯t feel comfortable¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s a matter I¡¯ll have to face one way or another. It¡¯s better to do it amongst tentative fellows, no?¡± She interjected with an uncertain smile, one that belied a growing unease. ¡°And you¡¯re sure¡ª¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She uttered sternly. ¡°Alright. I¡¯d like to ask you about the suffix Rel.¡± ¡­ 1 Hour Later ¡­ It was about as bad as I¡¯d expected. The suffix Rel, more or less boiled down to: under legal review, or pending legal inquiry. And I was partially to blame. Lord Lartia¡¯s death basically put his entire estate into legal limbo, as without a definitive heir, and with a Crownlands-led investigation being thrown into the mix¡­ Rila¡¯s apprenticeship was now subject to the whims of¡­ well¡­ almost everything outside of her control. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry Rila¡ª¡± ¡°Your actions negate the need to self-assign blame, Emma Booker.¡± She reiterated, doubling down on her refutation of my apologetics. ¡°This was, as we Nexian commoners say [Tarsink-torlin] ¡ª the fallout of petty noble games on the lives of those below.¡± New esoteric colloquialism added to the [Working Language Database] The ensuing silence was deafening, at least to me. But I had to ask the next question. ¡°So what outcomes are we looking at here?¡± ¡°If His Eternal Majesty¡¯s light shines upon me, then I may return to my position under the new liege. However, should foul fortunes befall me, then I must return home to start anew.¡± The elf¡¯s tone indicated that she was anything but optimistic about the turnout, which prompted me to instinctively chime in. ¡°No matter the outcome, just know that I¡¯ll have your back, alright?¡± I offered immediately. ¡°And this isn¡¯t just some empty promise either. I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯ll have whatever you need for a fresh start.¡± I spoke with a smile, brimming with optimism that seemed to come naturally following the recent turn of events. Nexian crap be damned, I¡¯d at least make sure to make a difference with this one life. ¡°Emma Booker¡ª¡± ¡°Just Emma is fine.¡± I urged politely. ¡°I must insist that¡ª¡± Tooo-Toooo-TOOOOOOOOT! The blaring of trumpets pulled the both of us out of our back and forths, as we both craned our heads towards the source of the commotion ¡ª the balcony. It was at that moment that a Bim Bim-grade idea dawned on me, as I turned to Rila with an expectant smile. ¡°I think I¡¯ve bogged you down enough with these what-if¡¯s and could-be¡¯s. For now, how about we cure your boredom, eh?¡± With a tug and a pull of Rila¡¯s surprisingly mobile bed, I positioned the elf just short of the balcony, before drawing the translucent curtains wide open. ¡°Front row seats to the magical games!¡± I grinned. I expected one of those sports-commentator views of the gymnasium below, with at least a decent vantage point of the open-air track nestled within. However, those hopes were frustratingly dashed, as the only thing we could make out from this level was a small corner of the gymnasium¡¯s field, the rest being obscured by the rest of its bulky Victorian-esque structure. ¡°Welp¡­¡± I sighed, turning back towards the bed-bound Rila with a sullen shrug. ¡°Maybe we could read a book or somethi¡ª¡± ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 750% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS CRRKK! SHRRKKKK! CHRKK-CHRRK-CHRRRKKKK! The ground beneath us rumbled up something fierce, prompting my eyes to dart around for any cracks, splinters, or dust forming in the wake of those seismically-concerning noises. Rila¡¯s eyes hinted at the same concern forming deep within my gut. However, what happened next would be something that caused my whole body to freeze. The stadium in front of me¡­ rapidly expanded. The wrought-iron victorian metalwork expanded outwards in every direction, raking across the earth like a farmer tilling their fields. Or more accurately, like a god-sim gamer deciding to tear their overworld up a new one. The stadium¡¯s walls followed suit, quickly sliding outwards to meet its metal frame, dragging grass, topsoil, and dirt in the process¡­ leaving not a single tree, hedge, or piece of shrubbery for the poor gardener to save. Though that clearly wouldn¡¯t be an issue. Because the freshly-upturned soil was quick to heal. The piles of exposed dirt were quickly compacted into patches of neat mounds by some invisible force ¡ª causing the ground and everything atop of it to violently shake with each and every stomp ¡ª making the way for the growth of grass, flowers, and even whole trees. All of which, ended up mimicking the well-kept greenery of a noble¡¯s gardens. Indeed, what amounted to a space more than several new olympic fields in size had suddenly been tiled, paved over, and dressed up for the event in just a matter of minutes. The whole space now much more resembled what I¡¯d expected from a grand magical tournament. However, it wasn¡¯t the end result that blew me away, but the process of actually getting to it. This was despite my experiences with similar, if not larger projects ¡ª namely in those field trips to the O¡¯Neill cylinder mega-fabs. With the O¡¯Neill cylinders, it was clear the scale was there, and the sheer detail that went into every pre-fab ¡®sector¡¯ was just as, if not more intricate than what I¡¯d just witnessed here. I¡¯d seen entire mid-density residential districts, complete with ready-to-install parks and ¡®green sectors¡¯ plonked and finished in front of me. However, the process was tedious, involved, and immensely resource intensive. This¡­ just felt so effortless. An entire venue had just been molded and shaped as if it was a casual VR session. Production and construction had just been casually expedited, moving straight from VR sketchpad and into the physical world. I was left in mild awe. Though it was clear Rila was utterly taken aback, the elf left too stunned to speak. But before either of us could really address¡­ everything that just happened, a booming voice echoed from the newly constructed stands, now towering in the middle of the field like some air traffic control tower. TO ALL WITHIN THE ACADEMY HEED THE CALL OF THE HOUSE CHOOSING CEREMONY TO THE STUDENTS, THE STANDS TO THE FACULTY, THE CHOOSING TOWER What was unmistakably Chiska¡¯s excitable voice boomed throughout the Academy. MAY THE FIRST GROUP ENTER! My eyes were peeled in anticipation, a giddiness inside me fueled just by how the stage itself had been set. After all the stress this past week, I was more than happy to simply sit back and watch. With eager eyes and a quick zoom-in via optics, the first of several figures that made their way to the stage turned out to be none other than¡­
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Field of Champions. Local Time: 1010 Hours.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Qiv ¡°Let it be known that my gratitude knows no bounds for the honor you¡¯ve bestowed upon us, Dean Rur Astur.¡± With earnest respect, I gave a bow to the honorable Dean. As did my fellow peers; the rustling sound of movement behind me confirmed such. I did not dare to raise myself just yet, not until I heard it. ¡°Please, you may rise, Lord Ratom. You may rise.¡± So came my better¡¯s command and indeed ¡ª to frame it as little else was foolish. I did as he bade, steeled in my resolve. ¡°The task ahead deserves your effort, reserve your resolve for what is to come.¡± I took that paternal smile and returned my own, reserved yet ardent. The dean retreated out to join his articled faculty, and I focused my attention on the growing chatter amongst the audience. ¡°Lord Ratom?¡± The drawling voice of the slow-witted bear irked.¡°Hold it in, Lord Kroven. We¡¯re about to begin.¡± I held back a hiss, just as the chatter of the crowd rose from impatience and impudence. It was like the scraping of claws against pig iron. For a presentation such as what we had planned, this demanded utter silence. We made our way, basking in the light of the stage and seen by all, stopping just at the epicenter of a glorious plane of theatre. Withal, the incessant noise of fellow students engulfed us as much as the light had. I raised a finger up to my lips, my eyes scanning once more to the crowd that deservedly had this coming to them. SSSSHHHHHH My call for silence was accompanied by the sudden conjuration of cloudy wind ¡ª continuous streams of puffy clouds that erupted from my maw. The whole central field was promptly covered in a layer of fluffy pink-hued clouds, basking it in a simulacrum of heavenly fields, with I standing in the midst of the only clearing ¡ª the rest of my peers quickly hidden amidst its confines. Pleasant silence fell upon the stadium, as the clouds began to move, one by one, revealing the rotund Rostario resting atop of one of them. However as quickly as the serene scene was established, so too was it almost immediately subverted, as the clouds started to darken and twist, picking up speed as it did darker and darker hues, until finally it began swirling up a storm. Only a few short seconds was needed for the heavenly scene to turn hellish, as lightning and howling winds embattled the greenery and landscaping of the central fields. A tempestuous storm had formed, with its borders clearly demarcated by the staves and fences the professors had situated in the stadium. The storm continued to intensify, and by Rostarion¡¯s command, the last of the cottony clouds turned dark. Though that wasn¡¯t the end of their ¡®corruption¡¯. With each cloud quickly changing shape, contorting, transforming into elvenform wraiths, armed and armored. Like solid hail, they fell onto the stage, with Kroven, Airus, and myself surrounded. Such was the bat¡¯s cue. With an unfurling of her wings, and a mighty leap into the air, she ascended several stories, staying aloft above the chaos. She looked at her conjured foes with eyes that could smite ¡ª diving down into the crowds of these shambling monsters. The leading edge of her wing suddenly glistened with a metallic gleam, matching the cocksure grin that I could¡¯ve sworn glinted just as brightly. It was then that she leveled out, wings poised forward, as she began slicing through the gaggle of nimbic wraiths. And then she had to show off. She afforded no mercy to her vaporous combatants, performing barrel-rolls and aileron rolls alike, her wings shimmering brighter and brighter with each ¡®kill¡¯ to the point where they began crackling with light. Finally, she ascended sharply, banking left and right through the remaining clouds, until she regained enough altitude for the final act of the show. Her glistening wings discharged, erupting with electrical light and a series of brilliant lightning bolts. This eviscerated any remaining undead, and vaporized what clouds remained. Throughout it all, the bear-like Uven remained planted firmly to the ground. With a cock of my head, he took in a nervous breath and began as planned. With arms raised, he focused much of Airit¡¯s seemingly endless lightning into a solid ball of light, the spherical shape contorting and twisting, hinting at just how the man was struggling to keep it all in one cohesive shape. His features stiffened as he held the ball aloft with strain and tumult, until finally, he tossed it upwards. It went far higher than it should have, flying past Airit, past even the cloud-surfing Rostario, and farther than the highest peak on the academy, until finally¡­ thhhhhhROOOM The overcast skies above the stadium was lit anew in a brilliant display of streaking lights and fanciful fizzles, though it honestly was more tacky than I would¡¯ve preferred. Save for the pride-instilling displays that regarded our very being ¡ª blindling and brilliant images of each of our family crests. As expected, the culmination of our efforts was rewarded with a much more pleasing sound of resplendent cheers and deserved acclaim.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Healing Wing. Local Time: 1027 Hours. Emma Hoots and hollers were carried aloft all the way up to the medical tower without the aid of magic. The whole scene genuinely reminded me of one of those Cloud Nine shows on Venus, especially with the use of clouds as a medium of artistic expression. The Venutians were, understandably, fond of using the clouds between their cities whenever they could. Which invariably, meant similarly brilliant displays of aerial acrobatics¡­ though perhaps with less in the way of teenaged magic mutant ninjas. ¡°Marvelous, Lord Qiv! Incredible work Lady Airit! Spectacular display Lord Rostarion! And what an amazing final piece of showmanship Lord Kroven!¡± Chiska announced through the PA system with an ecstatic fervor. ¡°Your scores will be tabulated and given to you following the conclusion of the day¡¯s ceremony. For now, feel free to enter the Banquet Hall, where you may bask in the glory of your showmanship!¡± The cheers continued even as the group was ushered off the field and into the stadium. The center of the field, which looked as if a tornado just went through it, was quickly repaired in the span of a few minutes. Rila¡¯s mouth remained open all throughout that show. Her features were somehow locked in that perpetual display of awe, which I could only appeal to by shrugging. ¡°T¡¯was fun, no?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure today¡¯s entertainment is going to make up for the boring week of nothing you were subject to.¡± I grinned cheesily, watching on as the next group quickly arrived on scene. My features shifted drastically as I saw who it was though. ¡°Lord Auris Ping and fellows, are you ready to begin?¡± ¡°On His Eternal Majesty¡¯s name, I was born ready to serve his light.¡± He spoke uproariously, garnering the cheers of more than a dozen students. To his right was Lady Ladona, and to his left were the two other members of his troupe which always seemed to be sidelined next to the giant personalities of the former two. The first, being Ciata Barr, an ¡®Ophidiarealmer¡¯, who I could only describe as a humanoid being with opalescent stone-like skin, loosely resembling a snake being forced into a humanoid body plan. The second being the Cervinrealmer, Vicini Lorsi, who looked eerily humanoid despite the obvious deer-like elements of his body plan. The two remained quiet, but ready for action. Whilst Ping and Ladona continually shot knowing glances, as if getting ready for a signal. This soon came in the form of a wink from Ladona as the pair suddenly pushed back, the ground beneath their feet rising upwards and backwards, until they were each standing atop of stone pillars at the very edges of the demarcated field. Following this, Ciata and Vicini soon got to work, raising up dirt and stone alike in the center of the field, fusing the collection of sediments to form walls and spires that formed a whole castle. Though admittedly, a miniature one as it was clear that their power was far more limited compared to the professors. Yet despite those limitations, they still managed to pull off an incredible display of what looked to be a cross between precast construction and vertical stacking, as they kept adding and adding layers onto what was quickly becoming a decent-sized scale set of a battlefield. Auris and Ladona however weren¡¯t just sitting at the wayside whilst this happened, as they both began molding statues and structures of their own ¡ª forging individual soldiers, siege machines, and what looked to be larger than life statues of an elf, a giant, and a dwarf. After a solid ten minutes of nonstop construction, the center of the stadium had been transformed into a scene that resembled some sort of historical reenactment. With scaled-down armies surrounding a massive castle, and a floating head looming ominously over the would-be besiegers. ¡°THE SIEGE OF THE LAST HERETIC!¡± Auris proclaimed loudly, his finger angrily pointed at the floating head in question. ¡°THE LAST OF THE FIRST ¡®GODS¡¯, THE DEFILER OF FREE FATES!¡± He continued, garnering several loud cheers and claps. ¡°HERE I STAND, WITH HIS MAJESTY¡¯S DIVINE GIFT OF FREE WILL FLOWING THROUGH ME, TO REENACT THE DEATH OF THIS DECREPIT THING!¡± A pause followed, as Auris and Ladona¡¯s individual pillars suddenly merged, and they both aimed their hands towards the vaguely draconic-looking face. ¡°BEGONE, FOUL BEAST!¡± They screamed simultaneously, blasting the rock with a series of blasts that ranged from lightning bolts to boulders to what looked to be some weird magical acid ¡ª the latter of which managed to melt what was left of the floating head, causing it to sink into the castle beneath it in a pile of green sludge. The various ¡®armies¡¯ soon marched forwards, as all four now began a collaborative group effort in reforging everything into a new castle. One which looked to be a cross between Minas Tirith and a starscraper, rising so high that it even reached the height of the faculty¡¯s observation tower. Soon enough, the group was done, as they turned towards an uproarious series of cheers, with Ping basking in the attention. ¡°A truly remarkable and passionate demonstration of various forms of magic, with a clear dedication to historical accuracy, down to the participants of the Siege of Utarina.¡± Another voice came over the PA system, this one belonging to none other than Articord, Ping¡¯s favorite professor. However, whatever ¡®microphone¡¯ they were using in the booth was quickly taken, as Chiska once more took over. ¡°Seconded! Now, feel free to enter the banquet hall! And may the next group please approach the field!¡± I turned to Rila with a cock of my head. ¡°Historically accurate?¡± To which the elf could only shrug in response. ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s taught. I was fortunate enough to be schooled, and this aspect of history was indeed regarded as factual, Emma.¡± It was following that final exchange, and a few more casual conversations over a few more modest displays of magic, that I finally took my leave. It was close to noon after all. Which meant it was time to fulfill my obligations.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. ¡®Practice Hill¡¯ Overlooking the New Gymnasium. Local Time: 1420 Hours. Emma As expected, the practice mainly consisted of me relegated to the sidelines. Awaiting that second-to-final act as the group focused on polishing the actual magical parts of the performance first. I ended up spending most of the time watching the stadium from atop the practice hill. And what I observed was that most of the performances seemed lackluster compared to the production value of Qiv and Ping¡¯s performances. Despite that, the faculty seemed to be just as enthusiastic about the specifics of some of the less than flashy performances. It was two particular groups however that stuck out to me. The first being a group who seemed confident to start out, forging what looked to be an almost stereotypical looking gateway, which two members calmly walked through. Though following this, nothing really happened. Moreover, the remaining two began panicking as a whole twenty minutes of absolutely nothing happened, save for the frantic searching through loose parchments and binders. The pair were almost ushered off before the portal suddenly reopened, and the two students from before returned with triumphant smiles. Their smiles didn¡¯t last for long however, as it quickly dawned upon them that their few-second stunt had somehow become a twenty-minute quagmire. I couldn¡¯t help but to feel for them as they were ushered off to the banquet hall. Though the same couldn¡¯t be said for the second group that genuinely ticked me off. As this second group went so far as to push a commoner they hired to the brink of death, all in an attempt to demonstrate Belnor¡¯s first-death principles. The faculty was divided on this one. With Belnor herself condemning the ¡®rash¡¯ acts, but Articord arguing that it was disqualifiable on grounds of the participant being an outsider, and thus against the letter of the rules. The group was sent to the banquet hall, though with much in the way of drama. Following all of this, I was finally allowed to participate in the rehearsals. It was only after I reviewed the newly-annotated script however, was I given the rundown on the last-minute revisions the gang made prior to lunch. ¡°Ilunor¡­ are we going to be doing a musical?¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium Faculty Tower. Local Time: 1900 Hours. Chiska ¡°May the final peer group approach the field!¡± I announced with an ecstatic grin, as excitement and anticipation welled within me, my eyes trained on what most amidst the fellowship were dubbing the great unknown. "Curious how they''ll measure up." Belnor spoke softly. "Rarely have students asked to be placed last. Rarer for them to beg for it. I have my doubts about their skill." Articord promptly added. "You never know. Cadet Emma Booker has proven herself capable of breaking barriers when it comes to the unexpected." I retorted with a knowing wink. "We shall be the judges of that, Professor Chiska." The dean concluded, his eyes narrowing in on the newrealmer with each and every step she took.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium Faculty Tower. Local Time: 1900 Hours. Emma We took center stage with a cocksure Ilunor, an equally confident Thalmin, and a poker-faced Thacea. All eyes were on us, as the day¡¯s light gave way into the strangely cloudy evenings of the Nexus. I wasn¡¯t typically one to feel stage fright. But given the unique circumstances at play, I definitely felt something close to it here. Ilunor stepped forward first, followed by Thalmin, as they each bowed to one another before pacing ten steps away from each other. In something taken right out of the pages of a western, they promptly spun around and fired. Though it wasn¡¯t bullets this time around, but fire and ice. The pair held their arms outstretched, their hands aimed towards one another, as the continuous streams of fire and ice generated a plume of steam that obscured the whole field. The two streams of magic ended abruptly. Though the battle was just beginning. As lightning pierced through the clouds, Ilunor performed what I could only describe as an ¡®anime¡¯ pose in the process. Thalmin, however, pulling from light magic classes, managed to not only dissipate it, but also redirect it, forming his hands into a ¡®gun¡¯ shape, before shooting it up and out of the stadium, bathing the crowds in an iridescent blue light. A pause followed after that redirection, then¡­ all hell broke loose. Ilunor began belting out baseball-sized balls of fire from his maw towards Thalmin. However, with each blast came the prince¡¯s martial prowess. As each and every attack was countered by a slick flip, jump, and dash, leaving the flame bolts to scorch the ground in a series of peculiar sooty patterns. This back and forth continued, as the pair¡¯s moves became less martial and increasingly more artsy, with each surge of magic and each extension of their bodies becoming less like a fight and more like a dance off that circled the stadium. This all culminated in Thacea¡¯s disruption of the playing field, the avinor flying up high and outstretching her hand towards the ground. The tips of her primary feathers glowed ¡ª the sooty markings thrummed in response. With a swift swish of her winged arm, the sigils erupted into action, blasting the entire field with a powerful freezing spiral ¡ª ice stretching over and across the whole surface before wispy winds wizzed back within the confines of the sigil circle, fizzling into boreal streams that built up more and more to form a glacier. THUNK THUNK THUNK A glacier that I climbed and stood at the summit of, all eyes now focusing on me.Ilunor breathed in sharply, flames jetting from the corners of his lips.Two swords appeared in Thalmin¡¯s hands, both surging with the light of magical energy.The airborne Thacea looked down, her feathers ruffled and straightening, and her inky eyes pulsed with the sigils. ALERT: MULTIPLE LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED 200% ABOVE¡ª Flashing lights. 300% ABOVE¡ª Heat haze-like wobbling. 400% ABO¡ª Distorted colors. 500% AB¡ª And a whole host of visual artifacting began flooding my vision. 550% A¡ª The ground beneath me crackled. 700% Whilst the ice around me melted. The warnings blared nonstop. Yet at the end of it¡­ nothing happened. Though judging from the ogling eyes of the audience, most notably the upper years who had dropped everything they were doing to observe this last stunt ¡ª it was definitely a show stopper. The lack of the +1 notification was a huge relief as well, prompting me to give Thacea a knowing nod of support. But the show wasn¡¯t quite over yet. ¡°Meeemmoriiies~¡± The Vunerian began, his singing voice surprising not just me, but seemingly the rest of the crowd. ¡°We long to be remembered in meeeemoorriies~¡± He continued, gliding across the icy stage on ice skates forged from magic. ¡°Oh meeemoriiees¡ª¡± Came another, more baritone voice, as Thalmin arrived with a pair of skates of his own. ¡°We yearn to be remembered¡­ by histoooryyyyy¡­¡± ¡°Meemoriies¡­¡± Came a higher voice, a refined voice, one that seemed almost born to sing. ¡°Let us be remembered with pride and dignity~¡± I felt something welling up within me following that singing voice ¡ª the beauty of it momentarily overpowering the objectionable lyrics ¡ª as I couldn¡¯t help but to stare on, watching as the princess flew up gently with slow, practiced, flaps of her wings. ¡°Because to be remeeembeered~¡± All three continued, bridging into a chorus. ¡°Is the highest gift of all~¡± Ilunor and Thalmin slowly but surely raised themselves up, as the ice rink began rising layer by layer like a cross between a slip and slide and a wedding cake. ¡°In the pages of history, we all hope to leave our legacies~¡± The chorus continued, Ilunor¡¯s pop-singer voice, Thalmin¡¯s baritone dulcet growls, and Thacea¡¯s angelic high-notes, all complimenting each other like something pulled from a fantasy music video. ¡°From the distant farlands¡ª¡± Thalmin began, generating what looked to be a mini-representation of the farlands on one side of the ice rink. ¡°¡ªto the castletops of Vuneria¡ª¡± Ilunor continued, raising up scale models of his mountaintop kingdom. ¡°¡ªwe will strive to¡­ build our legacies~¡± Thacea concluded with a resonant series of chirps, captivating me, as I momentarily turned off the translator just to hear the music alone without the lyrics. All three voices continued, before blending into yet another chorus, as the music eventually came to a slow and gradual stop. The lyrics need work¡­ but at least they got the singing right. I thought to myself. The wedding cake-like ice tower eventually collapsed, Thalmin quickly grabbing hold of Ilunor, parkouring down onto the top of the pile of icy rubble. Following that, Thacea flawlessly flicked her wings, reverting any and all damages to the field. This left just the bare dirt beneath her, causing a series of whispers and murmurs to flare up soon after. I eventually joined back up with the group after that final¡­ musical, standing just to the left of Thalmin and right of Thacea, hoping not to draw too much attention. A single clap emerged from the crowds, followed by four more, all of which belonged to Cynthis¡¯ group, as she gave Thalmin a questionable wink. Afterwhich, more and more hands began their respectful claps, as Etholin took the lead to bring his side of the bleachers into some light cheers. Soon enough, that gradual rise from subtle golf claps to full and remarkable applause made me swell up in pride, as did Thacea, Thalmin, but none more so than Ilunor who was quick to take to the front and bow and take in the revelry. I looked on, and saw the praise of many, but also the scorn of a certain few. The staff seemed nonplussed about it, save for Chiska who was all too excited.Then I saw the face of the dean, singling me out as he wore that two-faced smile on his face; ire probably broiling within. Maybe it was the spiteful brat in me, but his reaction gave me as much enjoyment as the cheers. ¡°Lord Rularia¡¯s performance marks the conclusion of the House Choosing Ceremonies. It is with this final holdover of the grace period that I now call upon the removal of all blinds ¡ª so that all may see the Nexus in its infinite glory.¡± He proclaimed in a tone that felt as menacing as it was cordial. Great, yet another cryptic announcement¡­ I thought to myself. Little did I know, it wouldn¡¯t remain cryptic for long. As the perpetually overcast skies started to shift, the clouds that had been obscuring everything finally lifted, to reveal what I expected to be a starry night sky. The operative word here being ¡ª expected. Because instead of stars¡­ all I was met with was darkness. An empty black abyss where the stars should¡¯ve been. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°What the fu¡ª¡± FWWWOOOOOOSHHH-BANG! Chapter 110: Staring Into The Abyss The world around me faded into the background. Noises became muffled. Conversations sounded distant. Explosions barely broke through the mental barrier that was forming between all senses save for sight. My eyes remained transfixed not on the brilliant fireworks displays nor the zipping of upper-yearsmen on fantastical beasts, but instead¡­ on the backdrop they all seemingly ignored. The starless skies. And the single moon that hovered ominously overhead. I should¡¯ve seen it coming. The constantly cloudy skies, the suspiciously overcast weather. I¡¯d just assumed that the Nexus was simply suffering from a chronic case of British weather prior to the introduction of the weather control network. I made a calculated assessment. But boy, am I bad at math. My body suddenly felt hazy, as my mind raced to find a way out of what was clearly a dream. I needed to wake up. No. ¡°I need to think.¡± I forced out, breaking through the growing mental fugue and the dissociation threatening to tear me from the fabric of the present, prying off the suffocating grip of fundamental systemic incongruency. ¡°Think Emma, think.¡± I continued, my eyes frantically darting back and forth, attempting to dissect the impossible sight before me whilst a thousand divergent thoughts started taking up almost all of my available headspace. ¡°There¡¯s at least a moon, but no stars.¡± ¡°Dyson sphere? Dead universe? Bo?tes Void-type situation? Black domain? Home star proximity? A Nightfall scenario? Near-Big Rip? Simulation¡ª¡± I quickly stopped myself, course-correcting with a single breath. ¡°No, no. Too crazy, too far. This is reality. This has to be some sort of¡­¡± I took another breath, looking to the EVI, right as Thacea¡¯s stern gaze and the sight of a hundred prying eyes forced me out of my reverie. However, not even the combined scrutiny of the masses managed to make a dent on my newfound infatuation, as my body slowly reentered autopilot once more; my mind easily slipping back into eccentric postulations of an equally eccentric world. ¡°Okay, okay¡­ training. Differential analysis and inference. Analyze. Categorize, then hypothesize. Stop with the scatter-brained, stop with the panic. Pull back from fundamental systemic incongruency.¡± I chastised myself, forcing in long steady breaths, each of which managed to calm me down somewhat until I was faced with the sky once more. ¡°Alright, no stars¡ª Correction, it¡¯s not that there are no stars. It¡¯s just that there¡¯s no stars visible or detectable.¡± I forced myself onto a more grounded mindset, channeling Dr. Mekis and the rest of the science team as I attempted to temper the creatively-inclined side of myself. ¡°All observable data is fallible. All observable data is prone to observer-bias and extraneous environmental factors. Alright. Okay. Let''s start differential analysis.¡± The EVI immediately responded by creating a translucent floating mind-map on my HUD, with two distinct root nodes sitting idly and standing by. ¡°Two broad categories. One ¡ª there are no stars visible due to observer limitations. Either due to some unknown atmospheric phenomenon, anomalous light interaction, the stars themselves being too far away, or Nexian magical shenanigans. Fringe explanations could include something physically blocking our line of sight¡­ like a dyson sphere or shellworld.¡± I paused, shaking my head. ¡°No, shellworld doesn¡¯t make sense. We wouldn¡¯t see the moon, otherwise.¡± I reasoned, before moving forward. ¡°Astrophysics explanations that¡¯d make Dr. Mekis cry could include the fact that we might just be further along in time. Maybe the Nexus¡¯ universe is so far into its expansion and life cycle that anything that would be observable has already slipped past the cosmological horizon?¡± The first root node was promptly filled, with my hypotheses branching off from it in a tree-structure diagram, various branches and child-nodes forming to represent my ideas. ¡°Two ¡ª there are no stars visible simply because there are none.¡± I declared with a shaky voice, the EVI responding by filling in that second root node. However, instead of continuing like I did the first category, I hesitated, as the implications behind such a conclusion were¡­ astronomical. ¡°This could be due to¡­ heck¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ a dead universe? Maybe we¡¯re in an extremely mature universe that¡¯s reached the degeneration era? Or maybe¡­ we¡¯re in a literal pocket dimension that exists without stars?¡± I pondered what I said for a moment, before denying it outright. ¡°No, that¡¯s absolutely insane.¡± Branches and child-nodes formed after each and every statement, though it was that last one that now remained blinking, the EVI double-checking if I even wanted it there. I felt that child-node staring back at me with incredulity, as if Dr. Mekis himself and the rest of the science team were there on the other side of the virtual workspace ready to counter my hypothesis. ¡°It could though.¡± I countered verbally, talking to myself now. ¡°Entirely new dimension, entirely fantastical rulesets¡­¡± I pondered, the two sides of myself standing at odds beneath a starless sky. The fantasy-obsessed child within me yelled at me to accept it as the prime hypothesis. While the Emma of the present, that had been molded by a desire to leave fantasy behind following my move to Acela, wanted nothing more than to science the shit out of this impossible sight. ¡°We¡¯ll get back to that one.¡± I compromised. ¡°But first, I just realized that a third category might be in order.¡± I ordered, prompting the EVI to generate a third root-node. ¡°Third ¡ª malicious intent. This could all just be a big game of deception on behalf of the Nexus. We can¡¯t put it past them after all. They already did the big starless sky reveal, what¡¯s to say there¡¯s not layers to this?¡± A nanosecond later, and the third tree diagram was branched out. This was followed by a beep, as the EVI circled back to the pocket dimension hypothesis. ¡°Query. Kill process: unfinished child-node?¡± I thought about it for a minute. However, just before I could respond, we eventually found ourselves arriving at the entrance to the banquet hall. At which point, Thacea quickly regarded me with a worried expression. ¡°Emma, are you feeling well?¡± ¡°Yes¡ª¡± ¡°Are you sure¡ª¡± ¡°No, don¡¯t kill child.¡± I replied. Though this reply was made before I could properly hit mute. Leading to a rather awkward scene where Thacea, Thalmin, Ilunor, and everyone else gathered near the entrance to the stadium¡¯s banquet hall, all stared at me with varying levels of concern. ¡°Oh erm, I meant to say: wow, I really killed it in this event! This whole thing was child¡¯s play, haha!¡± I spoke in an attempt to ¡®fix¡¯ the situation. However this only ended up with even more perplexed looks and outright worried stares. ¡°Well crap¡­¡± I sighed inwardly with a ¡®click¡¯ of the mute button.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium. Banquet Hall. Local Time: 1920 Hours. Emma With some quick thinking on behalf of Ilunor by reframing the situation as a ¡®newrealmer¡¯s eccentric approach to the theatre of life¡¯, we managed to defuse the situation and made our way inside the banquet hall, where the professors seemed to be busy talking amidst themselves atop of an elevated stage. ¡°Hey Thacea, do you think we can talk about¡ª¡± ¡°Shush, earthrealmer! Isn¡¯t one faux pas quite enough?!¡± Ilunor chastised. I wanted to argue, but upon seeing how packed the room was, I had to give him some credit. This probably wasn¡¯t the best time for it. The whole room was arranged into four discrete quadrants, with four equally-long banquet tables occupying the middle of each of these sections. A passing glance was all that was needed to confirm that this delineation was, in fact, done in order to divide up the houses; as even the tablecloths and waiters¡¯ outfits were color-coded to match the four houses. Moreover, the upper years dressed in their house colors, were also present at each table. However, the turnout of each house vastly differed, supporting the ¡®stratified house prestige¡¯ theory, which was doubly confirmed with a passing conversation with Ilunor. ¡°Yes, earthrealmer. Despite what the official stance may be, it is an open secret that there exists a clear and tangible divide between the prestige of each house.¡± ¡°So what¡¯s the actual game here? Like, what are the benefits or disadvantages of house affiliation? I mean, I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s always networking, but there¡¯s gotta be more to it than that, right?¡± I shot back, to which Ilunor leveled back a surprisingly straightforward answer. ¡°You underestimate the value of networking, Cadet Emma Booker. For it grants you connections that extend far beyond your graduation. Life-long alliances may be forged in the hallowed halls of each house, and the futures of entire realms may be decided should the right relations be kindled. This is in addition to the unique academic opportunities within the best of houses. Moreover, each house also grants you access to the physical manifestation of this club-like exclusivity.¡± ¡°So¡­ common rooms?¡± ¡°House Towers, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor finally leveled out a frustrated sigh. ¡°I knew you¡¯d find it in yourself to debase this rich tradition with commoner drivel.¡± The Vunerian chastised, before continuing. ¡°It is within these House Towers that you are granted access to exclusive libraries of annotated course materials and unique insight passed down through the years. Entire assessments have been memorized and transcribed such that successive years can enjoy the fruits of senior guidance. There is also the matter of additional ¡®benefits¡¯ including first-choice in many academy activities, as well as a direct line of communication to the House Professor. But of course, there is also the house cup which¡ª¡± ¡°May I have your attention, please!¡± The Dean proclaimed, his voice reverberating throughout the room. ¡°First years! Please line up in front of the stage! It is time for the final act of the House Choosing Ceremony!¡± The man smiled warmly, though once again, made it known just with a passive glance ¡ª that I was firmly on his shit-list. Thankfully however, the terms of my malicious compliance seemed to be unbroken, as I¡¯d yet to have been thrown into some dungeon cell. ¡°Let it be known that all of you have performed admirably in my eyes.¡± The dean paused, singling out the few groups that had some clear drama during their performances. ¡°Even amongst those who may have not been able to express the fullest extent of your capabilities¡ª¡± His eyes landed on the ¡®portal¡¯ group, each of them giving sheepish smiles back in response. ¡°¡ªand amongst those who push the boundaries of acceptable decorum¡ª¡± He turned towards the group who literally killed a man just to revive them. ¡°¡ªyour efforts in demonstrating your abilities are commendable. However, effort is only part of the rubric in today¡¯s activities. So please understand that these scores, whilst not representative of your capabilities by the end of your academic career, will still come to dictate the peers you call your house fellows.¡± The man went on and on following that, going deep into the history of the houses, their achievements, and the achievements of their alumni. It quickly became clear to me what Ilunor meant by networking now ¡ª that many housemates tended to form closer diplomatic ties following their graduation and their ascent to their respective thrones. Moreover, it also became clear to me that time seemed to have somehow corrupted the system. Because at first, the choosing seemed to genuinely be based on personal preference. With many first-choice groups deciding upon the less-desirable gray-and-white House Vikzhura instead of the de-facto ¡®first-rate¡¯ maroon-and-orange House Shiqath. Whatever sociological phenomenon was at play here, it was obvious to me that things were now in their pragmatic era; the achievements of only House Shiqath seemed to be read off in the last thirty minutes of the dean¡¯s lengthy speech. Though at the very end of it, the man actually opened up the opportunity for questions. Which I quickly took advantage of, as I aimed to shoot him a question best answered from the horse¡¯s mouth. ¡°Professor, if I may?¡± I asked politely. ¡°Yes, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± The man responded with the same two-faced smile he always wore. ¡°I¡¯d like to ask a question unrelated to the houses.¡± I began, garnering a tentative nod from the man. ¡°The floor is yours.¡± The dean spoke mildly, yet shooting me a veiled threat through his glare. You mentioned that the end of the House Choosing Ceremony prompted the ¡®removal of all blinds¡¯ as part of the ¡®holdovers¡¯ of the Grace Period. I just wanted to ask if there was a reason why the skies were obscured in the first place?¡± The question garnered a decidedly neutral reaction from the man, though there was that glint of relief, as if he was expecting the question to be another library-card moment. ¡°Simple, Cadet Emma Booker. The clouded skies were merely a courtesy. The Academy understands that the grandeur of the Nexian tapestry may be too intense for many. Indeed the unblemished purity of our tapestry is infamous for causing unease to those who have grown accustomed to living under skies littered with specks. As such, the blinds of the sky were introduced to further ease adjacent realmers into the overwhelming grandeur of the Nexus.¡± That response¡­ brought up even more questions than answers, though it at least gave me a bearing as to the supposed ¡®reasoning¡¯ behind it. ¡°If I may further¡ª¡± ¡°No, you may not.¡± The Dean interjected warmly, though with a stern undertone that prompted me to abandon the questioning for now. ¡°For it is time to both choose and feast!¡± He continued, entering seamlessly into his ¡®grandfatherly¡¯ persona. ¡°As it is my honor to award the highest scoring peer group the honors of first-choice!¡± He cleared his throat, gesturing proudly towards none other than¡ª ¡°Lord Qiv¡¯Ratom! Your peer group has demonstrated an exemplary display of not just magic, but the ability to synergize each of your peer members¡¯ unique personal strengths! As many groups have demonstrated today, the mere act of simply collaborating on a mutual effort is not enough to prove magical synergy. Instead, it is playing to individual strengths, and using those strengths to work towards a mutual end. For that, I award you the highest points out of today¡¯s ceremony ¡ª 939 points, out of a possible total of 1000.¡± The entire room went into an uproarious applause, save for the members of the third and fourth houses who all seemed to simply exist in varying states of disinterest. ¡°As is tradition, you may have first-pick of your house.¡± The dean continued after the applause died down, gesturing to the four houses. Qiv put on a show of thought, as if he even needed to consider what group he was about to choose. ¡°I choose¡­ House Shiqath!¡± The gorn-like lizardman proclaimed proudly, garnering the applause of the aforementioned maroon and orange house, whose table was now fervently clinking champagne glasses in a series of toasts. Vanavan, still donning the wizard hat bearing his house colors, opened up the mystery mini-chest to reveal a whole assortment of pins bearing a series of house-colored gems arranged to mimic the house sigil ¡ª a manticore. And in a display resembling the knighting of a knight, Qiv and the rest of his group knelt down, as Vanavan began applying the small pins onto the front of their school cloaks. ¡°Lord Qiv¡¯Ratom, and fellows: do you solemnly swear to uphold the principles of House Shiqath, to forever carry with you the burdens of His Eternal Majesty¡¯s first champion, and to slay any false gods should they arise?¡± ¡°I do, Professor Vanavan.¡± They all spoke in unison, rising up to meet the professor with proud and cocky smiles. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°House Shiqath! We once again have the privilege and honor of welcoming first-choice students! Three cheers for our continued excellence!¡± An elf, dark-purple in skin tone, proclaimed proudly from way down the table. ¡°Hip hip!¡± He shouted loudly. ¡°Hooray!¡± The entire table shouted back ¡°Hip hip!¡± ¡°Hooray!¡± ¡°Hip Hip!¡± ¡°Hooray!¡± The drawn out nature of the whole affair was not lost on me, and neither was it lost on the gang as even Ilunor began pouting¡­ though in his case, it probably had more to do with his anticipation for our scores. Qiv and the rest of his group took their seats along the empty portion of the bench, several servants quickly coming to pour both champagne and something they called ¡®victory soup¡¯. The feasting soon began for the four, as the Dean continued on. ¡°To the second-choice, I call upon Lord Auris Ping!¡± He began, causing Ping¡¯s expressions to shift from what I could only describe as a frustrated pout, to a prideful smirk. Second-place probably wasn¡¯t what he was expecting. But clearly, getting second-pick was at least something. ¡°Despite the lack of synergy amongst your peers, I could still see raw potential and unbridled power overcoming personal grievances to bring about a spectacular display of goal-driven theatrics! Your peers, whilst not masters of the magicks you chose, still forced their way into a decidedly impressive show. I will, however, recommend that you incorporate each of their personal strengths next time. However, as it stands, your ambition and potential grants you second-choice!¡± The dean¡¯s words prompted Ping to bow deeply, the man still respecting authority as much as he seemed to hate the results of it. ¡°You may pick your house, Lord Ping.¡± The Dean urged. However, unlike Qiv¡¯s little display, Ping didn¡¯t even seem to entertain the ¡®theatre¡¯ of choice. ¡°I choose House Shiqath!¡± He proclaimed, garnering yet more clinking and toasts from the house, and the same song and dance from Vanavan. What transpired following Ping¡¯s knighting and subsequent seating was a whole lot of nothing. As group¡ª ¡°House Shiqath!¡± ¡ªafter group¡ª ¡°House Shiqath will be our destiny!¡± ¡ªafter group¡ª ¡°House Shiqath, professor!¡± ¡ªcontinued the song and dance. Until finally, things changed. Because after a certain point, House Shiqath¡¯s ranks were filled. And so, the second-best house was up next for the same pattern of ¡®choice¡¯. ¡°House Finthorun.¡± Lord Gumigo spoke with an affirmative nod, garnering a series of gator-style high fives from his gator troupe. Articord promptly welcomed the man, as the similar knighting ritual to House Shiqath¡¯s followed. ¡°Do you, Lord Gumigo, swear to uphold the principles of House Finthorun, to maintain the foundations of this Academy, to uphold legacy and history to the best of your abilities, and to sacrifice all in the construction of a bastion of security for all that was and all that will be?¡± Articord spoke with her signature prideful tone of voice. ¡°Yes, professor.¡± Gumigo responded. This prompted the fox-like professor to begin pinning House Finthorun¡¯s pin onto the gator¡¯s cloak ¡ª a simple yet elegant silver and bronze pendant shaped in the form of a gryphon posed amidst an intricate, open doorway. A few familiar faces likewise landed in House Finthorun. This included the tortle-like-turtle, and a few more faces from the student¡¯s lounge. About half the year group had been whittled down after a good hour. Following that, Ilunor¡¯s features grew increasingly nervous, the man watching as the seats for House Finthorun were filled, leaving the third-best House Thun¡¯Yandaris ripe for the taking. His slitted pupils slowly constricted with each and every call. As group¡ª ¡°House Thun¡¯Yandaris!¡± ¡ªafter group¡ª ¡°Hmm! House Thun¡¯Yandaris!¡± ¡ªafter group¡ª ¡°House Thun¡¯Yandaris it is!¡± ¡ªstarted filling the ranks of the green and blue house. This all eventually came to a head as only four seats remained. The Vunerian held his breath, gripping his fists tight by his side, his eyes now clenched shut as the Dean began the final meaningful call of the night. ¡°May Lord Rularia¡¯s group please step forward!¡±
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium. Banquet Hall. Local Time: 2045 Hours. Ilunor Life. I felt life-giving mana reentering my worn and desiccated soul. The Dean¡¯s call, despite its obvious falsehoods of sincerity, at least brought with it an authority which meant respite for our ramshackled troupe. I was genuinely furious that he hadn¡¯t called us sooner. Especially when considering the absolute paltry performances on display today. However, I understood the impartiality when it came to assessing the earthrealmer¡¯s uninspired demonstration. Which, while as impressive as it was, was still the bare minimum to the rubric no doubt. Still, this call put us ahead of more than a handful of peer groups. And to that end, I found myself at least mildly satisfied. I took to the stage with a polite smile, and a pride welling deep within my noble chest. ¡°Lord Rularia, your group has demonstrated a unique combination of martial and artistic prowess. It is also clear that each of you have likewise played to your strengths, which must be applauded. However, this focus on the arts over a serious display of advanced magic, in addition to the lack of participation of one of your group members, forces the faculty into a position where the acknowledgement of the arts comes at odds with the objective results of your scoring. As a result, we award you 593 points out of a total of 1000.¡± The Dean concluded, garnering a stalwart reaction from me. Though deep within, my mind seethed. As a hundred different insults sweltered beneath the ire of a raging dragon. You uncultured swine! You ignoble clod! Is the Academy not called the Academy of the Magical ARTS?! ¡°You may choose your house, Lord Rularia.¡± He continued, merely adding fuel to the growing fires of my frustrations, prompting me to turn to the¡­ less than ideal choice. The felinor¡¯s table. I could already see many faces of those who would otherwise be beneath my magical potential. Moreover, I could also see the tired and despondent faces of those who were caught between worlds. Not good enough to be best or second best. Yet not pathetic enough to make it to last place. The middle children. The thought pained me. For reasons more personal than I wished to admit. I immediately severed that thought, for the irony it brought upon my life was unbearable. ¡°I choose House Thun¡¯Yandaris.¡± I announced, prompting a series of soft claps from the house in question. We approached the head of the table, heads held high towards a perpetually-smiling Professor Chiska, who promptly began pinning the house¡¯s pins on our cloaks. ¡°Lord Ilunor Rularia, and fellows, do you all accept the oaths of this House? To be true to yourselves, and to follow the path you believe is right? To be vigilant against that which is evil? And to strive for excellence, even in the face of your own perceived mundanity?¡± I held my breath, tensing, as I allowed what was formerly a completely foreign thought to enter my mind. Be happy with what you have. For you could have lost it all. ¡°Yes, Professor Chiska.¡± I spoke in unison with the rest of this sad troupe.
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. New Gymnasium. Banquet Hall. Local Time: 2120 Hours. Emma There was only one conversation throughout that entire dinner. And it was primarily a yap-off between our group and Chiska. The rest of the table seemed entirely aloof, with only a few curious gazes coming my way. Stranger still, it was Houses Shiqath and Finthorun¡¯s upper yearsmen who seemed more laser-focused on me, as they constantly looked over their shoulders, whispering under magical privacy screens amongst themselves and their new housemates. I¡¯d attempted to raise the issue regarding the stars with Chiska. Though a combined effort between Thacea and Ilunor quickly brought those attempts to a halt. ¡­ 15 Minutes Later. En Route to the Dorms. ¡­ ¡°I can¡¯t believe Etholin scored below us.¡± I began, a clear twinge of remorse coloring my voice. ¡°The man is magically weak, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor began with a haughty huff. ¡°His family, his holdings, and indeed his entire way of life exists because of the strength of Nexian magic and the peace and certainty it brings. This has made him and his house soft, complacent to the security of the world. He eschews the responsibilities inherent to a noble ¡ª namely the honing of one¡¯s magical potential ¡ª for more worldly endeavors such as trade, statecraft, and commerce.¡± ¡°But shouldn¡¯t the Nexus want nobles with those skills?¡± I countered. ¡°You misunderstand me, Cadet Emma Booker. What I¡¯m saying is that the man is using the pursuit of the worldly as an excuse for his responsibilities to the magical. Any noble worth their mettle should be mastering both magic and worldly endeavors. Lord Esila¡­ is dangerously favoring one, and leaving what makes him noble foolishly neglected.¡± The Vunerian surmised. All throughout the long walk back to the dorms, I tried to keep the topic honed in on anything but the stars as per the group¡¯s request. Which was easy for the first leg of it, since there was a lot from the event to unpack. However, the closer we got to our room, the antsier I became. As each window, each open-air hallway, and each slit carved into the wall became yet another spectacle to gawk at. This partly reminded me of how it felt like visiting Acela from Valley Hill for the first time. The light pollution, despite being mitigated through policy, simply overpowered most of the stars. That experience should¡¯ve softened the blow of the Nexus¡¯ starless skies. But it didn¡¯t. As the cognitive dissonance between the sheer ruralness of Transgracia, combined with the complete darkness of the skies, made for an incongruent picture that just did not compute in my head. If there had been something even remotely similar to an Acelan skyline nearby, then sure, that would slide. But with an endless expanse of greenery punctuated by a few rural settlements, with no significant glow to speak of, the scenery reminded me of an even less developed Valley Hill. And Valley Hill always had a brilliant night sky to frame it. The Nexus, however, didn¡¯t. Not even one tiny speck of light. All that existed here was darkness. Darkness without the warm glow of city lights. This all came to a head as we finally arrived at the dorms. As I unloaded all of my questions.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower. Level 23. Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 2145 Hours. Emma ¡°Could any of you tell me exactly what the heck is going on out there?!¡± I pointed vigorously out the window. ¡°What¡¯s with the lack of stars? What¡¯s with the void of a sky?¡± This question¡­ prompted everyone to collectively peer over towards the nearest window, each of them seemingly captivated by something that I wasn¡¯t seeing. ¡°If you mean the canvas to the grand tapestry, Cadet Emma Booker, then yes I can certainly see the ¡®void¡¯ you speak of. However, what I see, and what I¡¯ve always seen from my earliest memories, is a brilliant display of His Eternal Light.¡± Ilunor responded first, garnering a cock of my head, as Thacea quickly chimed in to fill the gap. ¡°Do you recall our conversations regarding manastreams, Emma?¡± ¡°Yes, I do.¡± I nodded, before the realization hit me. ¡°Wait, don¡¯t tell me¡­¡± ¡°Indeed, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor smiled. ¡°You lack the ability to visualize what all of us have the privilege of seeing ¡ª a brilliant display of vibrant mana, dancing amidst a darkened canvas, like a banner fluttering in a gale storm. Brilliant hues of every shade you can imagine, waltzing in an eternally dark ballroom.¡± I fell silent upon that revelation, as I once again felt a gut punch pulling the wind right out of my sails. I was the only person in the room who couldn¡¯t see color. Frustration, followed by a pang of sadness, wracked me. However, just as quickly as those feelings hit me, so too did I manage to ground myself. Just because I lacked it, didn¡¯t mean I was lesser for it. These weren¡¯t limitations, just obstacles to overcome. Project Wand Step for Mankind was going to help in this regard. But even without it? I could exist well and fine without manasight. I took a moment to pause, bringing up a tablet as I pulled up some stock footage of both the Aurora Borealis and Aurora Australis. ¡°So something along these lines?¡± I asked the group. ¡°Yes.¡± Ilunor nodded. ¡°But much, much more vibrant, and less¡­ dead.¡± The Vunerian concluded. ¡°And without those stars in the backdrop too, I¡¯m imagining.¡± I promptly added. ¡°Naturally, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor acknowledged smugly. ¡°Right. Okay. This provides some vital context for the Dean¡¯s earlier answer.¡± I sighed. ¡°I¡¯m assuming these¡­ magical auroras are a Nexian thing then.¡± I paused, garnering nods from Thacea and Thalmin. ¡°Alright, good to know. But the important question aside from the fancy light show is this ¡ª what the heck¡¯s going on with the lack of stars? I¡¯ve come up with a few theories, but I¡¯d like to hear it from¡ª¡± ¡°They¡¯re dead, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor responded proudly. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°I know this may be hard to understand, and indeed your choice of words is somewhat perplexing, so I¡¯ll take great effort in explaining this simply. These ¡®stars¡¯ you speak of? Each speck of light in the night sky that once polluted our grand canvas? They were once gods ¡ª minor, major, and everything in between. His Eternal Majesty defeated them, consumed them. And once he did, their presence in the tapestry above diminished along with their wretched lives.¡± I paused at that, trying to wrack my head around Ilunor¡¯s explanation as I attempted to wrangle together a new hypothesis. Is he being metaphorical? Is the Nexus perhaps just that late into its cosmic timeline? Maybe this is a religious explanation for the disappearance of stars due to universal expansion? No, it can¡¯t be. The timescales don¡¯t add up. The Nexus hasn¡¯t existed for that long, it takes billions of years between seeing stars and losing sight of them if we¡¯re going by the expansion theory. So is this actually literal? ¡°Ilunor.¡± I began with a sigh, getting straight to the point. ¡°What do you actually know about stars?¡± This caught the Vunerian off guard, prompting him to narrow his eyes. ¡°Are you calling me daft¡ª¡± ¡°No, Ilunor, I¡¯m genuinely asking here. No pettiness, no jabs, nothing.¡± I spoke earnestly. ¡°I want you to tell me what you know about stars.¡± ¡°I understand that they are different in other realms.¡± The Vunerian shrugged. ¡°But in the Nexus, these specks of light you speak of were once the mana-physical manifestations of gods, all hanging overhead, taunting mortals with their infinite power. Their destruction led to the creation of His Majesty¡¯s Light, as well as the sun and the moon. A monument to the defeat of the gods, and the freeing of mana.¡± I chewed this concept for a few moments, allowing myself to take the Vunerian¡¯s words at face value for once. ¡°Right. So how high up were these ¡®balls of mana¡¯?¡± ¡°How should I know, earthrealmer? I¡¯m not an astrologer!¡± Ilunor shot back defensively. ¡°Right, okay. So, next question then. You know that stars do exist in adjacent realms, correct?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°So¡­ how would you explain those¡ª¡± ¡°Ah! You would believe me a fool!¡± The Vunerian slammed back with a ¡®gotcha¡¯ moment. ¡°As I stated previously, stars are different in realms beyond the Nexus. For they are imperfections ¡ª tears in an otherwise seamless canvas.¡± I paused, realizing that right there, was where we both hit our respective Fundamental Systemic Incongruencies. I quickly turned to Thacea and Thalmin, but moreso the latter, as I¡¯d yet to have dived deep into the lupinor¡¯s understanding on the matter. ¡°Thalmin?¡± ¡°If you¡¯re asking me for what I assume the stars to be, Emma, then I cannot tell you. What I do know, however, is that they¡¯re useful tools for navigation. Through careful and calculated surveying, the stars aided us in discovering the finite nature of our world. Alas that is all I know of them, for I am not a scholar learn-ed in such a far-removed field of study.¡± I quickly turned to Thacea, but not before Ilunor and Thalmin interjected. The latter, starting with a concerned tone of voice. ¡°Emma¡­ are you claiming to know something we don¡¯t regarding the stars above the adjacent realms?¡± The former, however, approached me with a scowl and an unamused tone of voice. ¡°You seem troubled by perfection, earthrealmer. I understand your need to cope with such prodigious revelations. However, discussing stars will not net you the satisfaction you seek. Prince Thalmin is correct in his assertions ¡ª that these ¡®stars¡¯ serve little more than to aid you in the navigation of your finite realms. What else is there to discuss about them? Why are you so seemingly infatuated with our lack of them?¡± I took a moment to regard both of their concerns, before letting out a long sigh. ¡°It¡¯s because I want to know what the Nexus is and more importantly ¡ª what lies beyond it. You can claim whatever you want about the Nexus itself, but seeing your starless skies prompted me to figure out what lies above it.¡± ¡°Above it?¡± Ilunor cocked his head, followed immediately by Thalmin. ¡°The¡­ space above an adjacent realm. The¡­ abyss of darkness that hangs above.¡± I began, Thacea chiming in soon after. ¡°The oceans of stars.¡± The princess managed out ominously, parroting my words from our earlier interactions with the library. ¡°Nothing hangs above, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor shot back incredulously. ¡°I am certain the same goes for adjacent realms. You speak as if you know what lies ¡®above¡¯. As if you¡¯ve actually touched the tapestry itself!¡± ¡°I mean, we¡¯ve studied it for millenia and we¡ª¡± ¡°And through manaless means you¡¯re claiming to have somehow reached it?¡± I took a moment to pause, leveling my eyes towards the Vunerian. ¡°I¡¯ll do you one better, Ilunor. We haven¡¯t just ¡®reached¡¯ the tapestry. We¡¯ve actually ripped right through it.¡± This caused the Vunerian to pause, his now light-blue scales growing even paler. ¡°Oh, have you now?¡± He spoke through a derisive chuckle. ¡°Next thing you¡¯ll be claiming you¡¯ve actually visited these so-called specks of light¡ª¡± ¡°We have.¡± I responded bluntly. That answer¡­ finally drained the last of the Vunerian¡¯s color, as Thalmin¡¯s features darkened in equal measures. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we talked about our mastery over the skies, the heavens, and the nature of the void which hangs above.¡± Chapter 111: Aethra Primus Ilunor¡¯s response¡­ was not one I at all expected. Because out of all the reactions I had on my bingo card, clapping definitely wasn¡¯t on the list. ¡°And so the earthrealmer finally shows her true colors.¡± The Vunerian responded with a prideful smirk and a slow purposeful clap, causing me, Thacea, and Thalmin to cock our heads in solidarity. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± I responded. ¡°You claim to have visited these so-called ¡®stars¡¯, correct?¡± ¡°Well, yes. But I don¡¯t see how¡ª¡± ¡°My apologies.¡± He interjected, a sarcastic smile plastered across his maw. ¡°I am mistaken. Because not only have you claimed to have ¡®visited¡¯ these ¡®stars¡¯... but you likewise proclaim mastery over them, along with the so-called ¡®void¡¯ which ¡®hangs above¡¯ too, no?¡± He continued, stringing me along. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right.¡± I took the bait. ¡°Then you may consider this conversation over.¡± Ilunor proclaimed succinctly. ¡°For you have¡­ as the merfolk say ¡ª taken the bait.¡± ¡°Please just get to the point¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯ve fallen into my trap, bitten off more than you can chew, made a dragon out of a wyrm!¡± He prattled on, bringing in adage after adage until he finally leveled his eyes towards me in a clear fit of frustration. ¡°To put it bluntly, earthrealmer, you¡¯ve proven yourself an unreliable raconteur. You have fallen for the oldest trick in the book ¡ª the acknowledgement of an impossibility. What¡¯s more, you¡¯ve gone so far as to have built off of this impossibility, firmly entering the realm of pure fantasy.¡± I took a deep breath, matching the Vunerian¡¯s gaze even as he stepped off of his armchair, his feet click-clacking back onto the marble floors. ¡°Alright Ilunor, explain exactly what issues you have with my claims.¡± I continued with a sigh, eliciting a twitch from one of the Vunerian¡¯s eyes. ¡°I asked, plainly, whether you have visited these so-called ¡®stars¡¯. Your answer, twice now, was yes. Twice then, have you proved that you know nothing of the nature behind these specks of light. Twice now, have you taken the opportunity to inflate your ego, to act a contrarian whenever possible. Because twice now, you¡¯ve claimed to have visited a nonexistent destination, a phantom object, a mirage ¡ª a mere artifact of light.¡± The Vunerian turned towards Thalmin now, as if to invite him to his side. ¡°How can you claim to have visited what are merely tears in the fabric of the tapestry? By this logic, I could claim to have visited a desert mirage, or the end of a rainbow.¡± The Vunerian paused, allowing those words to sink in. And sink in they did. As I finally determined exactly where his point of fundamental systemic incongruency was. ¡°To further claim mastery over them¡­ is beyond ludicrous, akin to me claiming mastery over a rain cloud or a bolt of lightning!¡± Ilunor doubled-down, grabbing a piece of paper on the table as he spoke, proceeding to poke multiple holes in it with his claws, then finally holding it up to the fireplace. ¡°It¡¯s as outlandish of a prospect as me claiming to have both visited and declared ownership of the light poking through the holes of this parchment!¡± He announced through a run-on huff, prompting me to wrack my head around for a proper response. Or more specifically, as I used every ounce of empathy I could muster in order to see things from his perspective. ¡°Alright then, Ilunor.¡± I began with a steady breath. ¡°Please enlighten me.¡± I continued, garnering a wide look of surprise from all eyes present, including the Vunerian¡¯s. ¡°Explain to me exactly what you believe to be the tapestry. Tell me what these tears are, and what¡¯s actually behind them.¡± I offered patiently, prompting a shift in the Vunerian¡¯s derisive persona as it evolved into something more ponderous. ¡°Prove me wrong.¡± For once throughout this whole outburst, the man willingly stopped to take a moment to consider my request. ¡°I will require a half hour, Emma Booker.¡± He spoke softly. ¡°I believe it would be best to show you. Moreover, I believe I can make use of this time to extinguish two phoenixes in a single storm.¡± ¡­ 50 Minutes Later ¡­ ¡°Okay, so the Academy does have its own library, then? Like, in addition to THE library?¡± I reiterated, eliciting a nod from Thacea. ¡°Indeed, Emma. Though it is not as well known nor as prominent as The Library. Moreover, we have yet to require its services. Most of what is available in the Academy Repositories, is simply reference material and cultural works made available to complement the Academy¡¯s curriculum. This is where I assume Ilunor has gone.¡± ¡°Right, and on that note¡ª¡± SLAM! ¡°¡ªthere he is¡­¡± The Vunerian returned, his scales seemingly revitalized and rejuvenated, as if his intended destination had breathed life back into his skin. ¡°Wait, which library did you say you went to again?¡± ¡°Both, earthrealmer.¡± The Vunerian muttered out under a grumble. ¡°The Library, and the Academy Repositories. The latter is where I managed to procure this.¡± He gestured at the sight-seer gripped firmly in his hands. I nodded, reflecting on how silly it was of me to have assumed that the Academy wouldn¡¯t have its own internal library, instead relying on The Library for everything. Then again, earthly expectations in the Nexus tended to always find a way to be overruled, so I didn¡¯t beat myself too much over that little revelation. ¡°So, considering you got that thing from the Academy Repositories, I¡¯m assuming you went to the library in order to fulfil your mysterious weekly arrangement with it¡ª¡± ¡°Let us focus on the task at hand, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor interjected, promptly slamming the door shut to prove his point, as he quickly got to work on the sight-seer. This particular sight-seer appeared to be far more polished and refined as opposed to Thalmin¡¯s ¡®bear-trap clamps on a book¡¯ sight-seer, but not as sophisticated nor showy as Ilunor¡¯s sleek and gilded setup from last week¡¯s sight-seer trip. Because instead of the gilded hard-cover edges with seamless fold-over stitching, this book just seemed¡­ normal. Like your regular everyday hard-cover textbook ¡ª complete with a title that looked more stenciled-on than it did hand-written or scribed-over. This trend of relative functionality over aesthetics continued as Ilunor went to work, revealing the orrery within the pages as a dainty, yet clearly functional ¡®device¡¯ with little in the way of ornate compositing or gildwork. ¡°We¡¯re jumping ahead in the curriculum for this explanation.¡± Ilunor began with a coy smile. ¡°From what I understand, this should be a subject firmly in Professor Articord¡¯s domain. Though as I stated before ¡ª extracurriculars are my forte.¡± With a surge of mana radiation¡ª ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 250% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡ªthe room was once more bathed in a light that started to ¡®melt away¡¯ the world. The whimsical almost ¡®organic¡¯ nature of the hologram, clashing greatly with my expectations of the typical ¡®vector by vector¡¯ and ¡®block by block¡¯ holographic boot-up sequence found in the ZNK-19. The floors opened up to ¡®reveal¡¯ solid ground in the form of a grassy sand dune, while the walls and roof slowly faded away until all that remained around us was an open expanse of starless night sky. ¡°I must thank you, Cadet Emma Booker, for being so kind as to revel in your own downfall.¡± He began. ¡°As it will be my honor to deconstruct your false claims, by demonstrating to you exactly how your assertions are but a fanciful impossibility.¡± No sooner after he spoke were we introduced to a sight I hadn¡¯t at all expected. Because instead of the magical hologram simply raising our perspective ¡®upwards¡¯ towards the starless skies, we were instead met with a more ¡®interactive¡¯ lesson; a shadow hovering overhead signaled that we were about to begin our ascent in a more ¡®hands-on¡¯ way. ¡°A ride up to the skies on a mount? Can we at least pick our beast of choice?¡± I commented jokingly. Ilunor¡¯s shit-eating grin however, only grew wider with my response, as he took great pride in what he was about to say next. ¡°Oh earthrealmer, how quaint of you to assume that we¡¯re about to ride beasts up to the skies!¡± He paused for dramatic effect, as the shadow being cast from above grew larger and larger, until finally we were met with the source of the Vunerian¡¯s rekindled pride. ¡°Because in actuality ¡ª the Nexian Crownlands have long since freed noble civilized society from the shackles of beastly reliance.¡± What sat in front of us, awaiting our ¡®entry¡¯ across a long red-carpeted gangway, was a literal airship. And this wasn¡¯t just an ¡®airship¡¯ in the traditional sense, nor even in the contemporary sense, but in the most literal sense of the word. Because awaiting our boarding¡­ was a ship that looked to be a cross between something out of the age of sail, and the most Jules Verne-meets-fantasy thing I could¡¯ve ever imagined. The whole vessel looked like one of those extra-long sailing ships at the cusp of steam technology, with sails and rigging dominating the superstructure on deck; rising several stories tall and dominating our line of sight. However, the lower my gaze went along the main body of the vessel, the more the anachronisms seemed to grow, as the ship tapered more aerodynamically the further down I looked. The mother of all anachronisms however didn¡¯t even require an ounce of scrutiny, as this aspect of the ship was just as, if not more prominent than its sails ¡ª its wings. Or more accurately, its many sets of wood and brass wings, each ending in some sort of a glowing crystal encased in a rune-engraved brass cylinder that looked almost like a jet nacelle if I squinted my eyes right. I couldn¡¯t help but to stand there, too stunned to speak, my gaze ending up fixated on the bow of the ship, as the anachronisms ended at the overly-long bowsprit that dominated the very front of the vessel. ¡°Well come along now, earthrealmer! We haven¡¯t all day!¡± Ilunor announced with unrestrained glee. Though we didn¡¯t really have to physically ¡®move¡¯, considering the magical hologram did it all for us. We arrived on the ship¡¯s promenade deck to decorations and a deck-layout that seemed like something pulled straight out of the Titanic. Though amidst the decorations, the wood decking was interspersed with many pipes, funnels, and eclectic glowing artifices that looked more functional than they were decorative. Or at least, I assumed that to be the case. The whole ¡®vessel¡¯ began its ascent soon enough, with Thacea and Thalmin¡¯s features displaying a sense of restrained awe, almost like they both wanted to ignore everything around them. Ilunor¡¯s unbridled ascent into superiority seemed to be unquestionable at this point. Though sadly, this wouldn¡¯t continue on indefinitely. At least, not with the sorts of questions I had in store for him. ¡°Alright, alright. I think we need a time-out before we ascend any further.¡± I finally managed out, overcoming the shock and disbelief through a combination of both willpower and the burning curiosity welling within me.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 2245 Ilunor ¡°What is it now, earthrealmer?¡± I managed out with a frustrated sigh. ¡°So, I know better than to doubt this thing¡¯s existence. It doesn¡¯t seem all too surprising given what the Nexus is capable of.¡± The earthrealmer responded, and in a rare instance of lucidity ¡ª acknowledged what had always been the truth. ¡°But I have to ask, how exactly does this whole thing work?¡± That single question sparked an entirely new wave of realization deep within me. As conflicting notions of reality and posturing started to reshape my expectations of the earthrealmer for better or worse. It was clear, through both the manaless sight-seer and her flying golems, that the earthrealmer did possess the ability of flight. And as manaless as it was, I had no choice but to accept that as reality as I saw it. Aethra-Primus, after all, could easily justify the existence of her ¡®drones¡¯ ¡ª its principles reflected in common beasts of flight. The disconnect however no longer stemmed from whether or not these manaless newrealmers were capable of producing artifices of magic-less flight, but instead, the extent to which this capability could be scaled to Nexian achievements. It was well understood that the principles of Aethra-Primus were limiting. This was reflected in both the natural order and the civilized world. With regards to the former, it was clear there existed a functional¡­ limit, where size and scale no longer allowed for non-magical flight. A dragon, after all, was only capable of flight through its innate use of magic. With regards to the latter, there simply existed no means of achieving flight without some form of magical imbuement. Whether this was in the power behind a vessel, or the defiance of leypull itself. Simply put, there were principles of flight which could excuse and support the earthrealmer¡¯s current proven capabilities. Her flying artifices, merely being the absolute extent to manaless flight. Anything larger was an abject impossibility. This realization instantly casted doubt over the validity of the larger flying artifices seen in her sight-seer. All of this would explain why she was so awed by the sight of this most typical of flying craft. It would explain her burning curiosities over a vessel otherwise only possible in the imaginations of a manaless world. ¡°Ah! Interested in flight now are we? I recall the previous week¡¯s conversation very well. You were just oh-so confident in your supposed mastery over flight.¡± I began, taking a moment to consider my next words¡­ ultimately deciding on committing to my stand. ¡°Your ¡®drones¡¯, along with your ¡®mothership¡¯ artifice are clearly the extent of it, yes? I believe we¡¯ve now arrived at the point where you find yourself perplexed by the actual sight of more impressive constructs, prompting me to cast doubt over your grandiose claims; considering your need to inquire¡ª¡± ¡°This thing cannot fly.¡± The earthrealmer interrupted bluntly, completely disrupting any semblance of rhyme or conversational reason. ¡°I beg your pardon¡ª¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°Not using conventional flight mechanics anyways.¡± The commoner continued her tactless assault. ¡°You¡¯re flying a literal ship, Ilunor. An ocean-faring ship, if that needed to be specified. Now, if I were back home, then I¡¯d have called this bluff from the get-go. That¡¯s because under conventional flight mechanics, this thing would have no chance of getting off the ground.¡± The earthrealmer paused, making a point of gesturing towards the Aetheric Leypushers. This was followed by yet more of her suspicious moments of purposeful conversational pauses ¡ª a social tool that she was surprisingly adept at. ¡°There¡¯s no way you¡¯re generating enough lift with those wings to keep this whole thing aloft, and most definitely not at the speeds we¡¯re currently traveling.¡± She added suddenly, my eyes narrowing as she spoke. ¡°Now I don¡¯t know how much this whole thing is supposed to weigh, but it doesn¡¯t take an aeronautics engineer to take one quick look at this thing and say¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re describing Aethra-Primum, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± I interjected curiously, mildly impressed by the earthrealmer¡¯s intimate understanding of Aethra-Primum, but more so baffled by how she could be applying such base principles on a craft such as this. This left me¡­ conflicted, uncertain if she was grasping at straws at trying to analyze a craft beyond her capabilities, or whether she was truly hinting at the impossible ¡ª that vessels of this size and scale were possible without magic. ¡°Aethra-Primum?¡± She eventually responded. ¡°Natural flight.¡± I replied cautiously. ¡°Unassisted and unaided by magical means. Or what you refer to archaically as¡­ ¡®flight mechanics¡¯, though I cannot see why you would utilize such an overtly complicated descriptor for a phenomenon that is inherently unworthy of it. The term is part of the three fundamental avenues of flight, as observed in both the natural and civilized world.¡± I gestured for the earthrealmer to follow, as I subconsciously directed the path of the sight-seer towards the wings. ¡°It is impossible for an Aethraship to fly using only the principles of Aethra-primum. For they are¡­ limiting, if not impossibly binding in their restrictive rules. This is why instead of conforming to ¡®flight mechanics¡¯, we instead circumvent it, freeing ourselves from the natural order. This is the reason why all vessels utilize either the second or third fundamental avenues, rather than persisting with the limiting first.¡± I paused, considering my next words carefully, as I casually gestured towards the Aetheric Leypushers, or more specifically ¡ª the catalyst crystals within. ¡°The artifices you see in front of you are designed to circumvent the limitations of Aethra-Primum, granting this vessel the ability to defy the forces of leypull itself.¡± The earthrealmer seemed particularly baffled by the latter term, her exaggerated body language hinting at the shock welling within. It was expected, after all. The knowledge of such fundamental principles are typically rarely understood in most newrealm¡ª ¡°And by ¡®leypull¡¯... you mean a natural fundamental force, correct? The¡­ universal force of attraction between all bodies of matter? The one that ¡®pulls¡¯ you down to the ground?¡± I took a moment to pause. To gather my thoughts. To consider the implications of just how¡­ casually the earthrealmer addressed an otherwise distant concept to most newrealm inductees. ¡°Yes, earthrealmer.¡± I nodded, attempting to ignore the implications of this. ¡°How do you¡ª¡± ¡°I just wanted to double check, because back home, we have another term for it ¡ª gravity.¡± This confirmed it. The fact they had a local term for it outside of Nexian nomenclature, made it clear that this was a principle they discovered independently. ¡°So you do understand.¡± I managed out reluctantly, before shifting the assault back towards the earthrealmer. ¡°But! Do you understand the concepts of Aethra-Secundum and Aethra-Tertius?¡± I inquired with a grin. ¡°No. But judging from what you were getting at with this ship, I¡¯m assuming Aethra-Secundum and Aethra-Tertius refer to the principles of magically-augmented flight, right?¡± ¡°Correct, earthrealmer.¡± I nodded, relieved not only at the earthrealmer¡¯s expected ignorance on the matter, but likewise at my efforts in wrestling back control of the conversation. ¡°But not entirely correct. For you see, both of these terms refer to the extent of magic being utilized for flight. Aethra-Secundum referring to magically assisted flight, and Aethra-Tertius referring to entirely magically-driven flight. The former utilizes magical means to augment all manner of worldly properties affecting lift; while its designs remain partially shackled to natural limitations. The latter, however, is completely unshackled from it.¡± ¡°And given how ludicrous this ship is, I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s entirely magically-driven then.¡± The earthrealmer replied tentatively. ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded pridefully. ¡°This vessel was designed from its onset as a complex symphony, to be performed by an orchestra of various enchantments, artifices, and spells, all at the beck and call of its conductor ¡ª the Shiplord.¡± The earthrealmer paused, her whole body tensing, as if physically attempting to grapple with the leypull of the situation. ¡°So let me get this straight.¡± She began with a shaky breath. ¡°Aethra-Tertius, amongst other things, involves a particular form of magic. Be it a rune, a spell, an artifice, or something, that¡¯s able to stably sustain the defiance of leypull ¡ª gravity ¡ª itself?¡± That particular question¡­ wasn¡¯t what I was expecting, and it wasn¡¯t for the earthrealmer¡¯s typical bluster or foolishness ¡ª no. Instead, it was for its myopic focus. ¡°Yes, earthrealmer.¡± I began with a furrowing of my brows. ¡°Though I do not see how that is in any way the most impressive aspect of this fine vessel, as there exists a wide plethora of spells and artifices that far surpass that particular enchantment.¡± I offered, attempting to gauge just why this rather unassuming aspect of the ship was what caught the earthrealmer¡¯s undivided attention.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 2252 Emma I hit the mute button immediately after that confirmation, looking at the EVI with wide and excited eyes. ¡°EVI, designate additional primary objective ¡ª information gathering and active study on the potential for scalable artificial gravity.¡± ¡°Acknowledged, Cadet Booker.¡± This discovery¡­ could change everything. If the principles behind this casual use of artificial gravity could be extracted or reverse-engineered, then we could be looking at a complete rewrite of space tech and industries as we knew it. Gravitics, and by extension, the manipulation of gravity through artificial means wasn¡¯t an immature field by any measure, in fact, it was at the heart of FTL and the key to its operation. It was the only means through which warp bubbles could be formed and sustained. But it was not without its limitations. First and foremost, was its energy-intensive nature. A fact which kept gravitics from reaching the heights of science fiction, namely, in its application to recreating earth-like gravity en masse. This was why spin-gravity was still king across every ship, station, platform, moon and planet, even after all these years. However, that wasn¡¯t the only functional cap we faced with the current model of applied gravitics. Simply put, there existed a sort of diminishing return when it came to gravitics in its application in FTL. As the energy requirements needed to sustain a warp bubble through gravitic manipulation lost all sense of efficiency past 800c. With an exponential increase of energy required the further you attempted to push past that ¡®sweet spot¡¯. This meant that whilst Alpha Centauri was a comfortable two-day journey away, a trip to Farpoint Station ¡ª the furthest claimed extent of GUN territory ¡ª took a whopping four months. Whilst the extranet did its part to keep every human merely an insta-call away, and despite most humans living comfortably clustered around Sol, this functional limitation proved to be restricting for far-flung space exploration and our reach into the wider galaxy. Sure, there were ships purpose-built to brute-force higher velocities using ludicrous amounts of power. But those were exceedingly rare, and relegated to either experimental craft, or a few deep-exploratory and military roles. Thus, without a fundamental change in either the conventional model for warp-field generation, or an explosion in power-generation technology ¡ª the 800c ¡®cap¡¯ would remain. That was, until today. As an entirely new chapter in history could be written. I was so lost in thought that the Vunerian had to physically kick me to pull me out of my reverie. At which point, he crossed his arms, gesturing towards the skies. ¡°We¡¯re arriving, earthrealmer. So before we continue, are there any questions you have regarding¡ª¡± ¡°So how common are these ships?¡± I practically blurted out. ¡°Abundant. At least as it pertains to the crownlands.¡± Ilunor responded warily, as if shocked by my sudden pique in interest. ¡°Uses? What do you use them for? I¡¯m only asking because you keep mentioning how portals have effectively cut the distance between spaces, so given how easy portals are to access¡ª¡± ¡°The transportium network still necessitates vehicles to replace the backs of the beasts of burden, eathrealmer; barring of course direct point-to-point teleportation. I believe the town¡¯s many bulk carriages are enough to go off by, no?¡± ¡°Right, okay, what else?¡± I shot out even more excitedly. ¡°Personal yachts, pleasure cruises, arcane research and study, exploratory endeavors into the deep farlands, as well as martial applications to name a few.¡± The Vunerian responded, trying his best to keep up as my overactive imagination and burning desire for more kept the man backed up into a proverbial corner. ¡°And the means of generating artificial gravity utilizing magic. Just how common, easy, or accessible is¡ª¡± ¡°Will you please save these questions for class, earthrealmer?!¡± The Vunerian managed out under a strained breath. ¡°We¡¯re very close to our destination, so will you please just focus on¡ª¡± ¡°Okay okay¡­ last question. You mentioned Aethra-Secundum and Aethra-Tertius as being something you observed in the natural world too, right?¡± I quickly asked, as hundreds more questions bombarded my brain. ¡°Yes? What about it earthrealmer¡ª¡± ¡°So is this how dragons are able to fly?!¡± I shot out excitedly, taking even Thacea and Thalmin by surprise. ¡°Is this how magical creatures with questionable aerodynamics are capable of flight? By effectively circumventing the ¡®constraints¡¯ of conventional flight mechanics?¡± Excitement welled within me, prompting my curiosity and overactive imagination to take the driver¡¯s seat if only for a moment. This¡­ clearly wasn¡¯t what Ilunor was expecting, which prompted Thacea to enter the fray, answering those questions on his behalf. ¡°Yes, Emma.¡± The princess began. ¡°Indeed, this is how a large proportion of avinor are capable of flight, as the principles of Aethra-Primum are insufficient in granting us this natural gift.¡± My eyes started to grow wide from all of these revelations hitting me all at once. An¡­ indescribable magical feeling welled up inside of me, bringing out the child within me to the forefront if only for a moment. ¡°This makes sense.¡± I admitted with a sense of wonder. ¡°Every being in the Nexus and the Adjacent realms evolved with magic, it¡¯d only make sense to make use of it on an innate level.¡± ¡°A topic which has already been covered by Professor Vanavan¡¯s first class, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor chided with frustration. ¡°That is, if you were even focusing in class ¡ª on the subject of magic use in mages and in beasts.¡± With a shrug and a sudden slowdown of the vessel, to the point where it looked as if we were truly defying gravity now, we ¡®arrived¡¯ at our destination. ¡°Behold, earthrealmer.¡± The Vunerian gestured¡­ at what just seemed to be yet more patches of dark skies hanging ominously above us. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not really seeing what you¡¯re getting at here.¡± I offered with a cock of my head. ¡°Then perhaps this will help.¡± The Vunerian grinned widely, dematerializing the sails and thus allowing us to get even closer to the ¡®tapestry limit¡¯. ¡°A caveat, earthrealmer: this maneuver is an artistic rendition, as performing such an act would be otherwise impossible. As any being or object that touches the tapestry would be instantly teleported into the transportium network. I¡¯ve had a few of my fellow wing-mates confirm this through brazen and foolish temptations of fate during our drake-flights.¡± Ilunor remarked, just as the ship stopped mere feet from the limit. At which point I finally saw it. A vague, shadowy, almost wispy fog-like membrane covering what should have been even more endless expanses of night sky. ¡°What¡­ the heck is that¡ª¡± ¡°The grand tapestry, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor proclaimed proudly and with a wide grin. Looking down, the endless expanse of land seemed to stretch out in every possible direction, though the farthest ¡®edges¡¯ of this seemingly endless expanse didn¡¯t necessarily form a horizon, but instead a sort of foggy haziness. I tried not to focus on that right now however, instead, fixating on this otherworldly alien membrane that coated the skies. ¡°Alright Ilunor, assuming the veracity of this sight-seer is solid, all you¡¯ve proven is that there is something covering the skies.¡± I began. ¡°This doesn¡¯t answer my question of what lies beyond¡ª¡± The Vunerian snapped his fingers, as several ¡®tears¡¯ began appearing in the wispy membrane. Soon enough, patches of light emerged, revealing what seemed to be an undulating¡­ soup of pure white-yellowish matter. ¡°Beyond the tapestry is the Primavale ¡ª a realm of incomprehensible fullness and energy. It is from the Primavale that the Farlands are consistently formed, and the ceaseless process of Nexian expansion is maintained.¡± Ilunor¡­ had lost me at that point. Or at least, my more grounded side. Thankfully, I still had my suspension of disbelief, courtesy of my more imaginative side. ¡°Alright¡­ the infinite Nexus theory is something to be touched upon later, so let¡¯s focus on the skies here. If your worldview is right, then what you¡¯re basically claiming here is that your ¡®stars¡¯ were once orbs of mana that were just¡­ hanging around this physical tapestry? Like little lamps or spotlights?¡± ¡°In a manner of speaking, yes, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The Vunerian nodded pridefully. ¡°And so after your King defeated and consumed them, you were left with just an empty ¡®tapestry¡¯, without those balls of mana?¡± ¡°Correct again, earthrealmer!¡± He smiled brightly. ¡°And now you¡¯re saying that there¡¯s this¡­ ¡®primavale¡¯ behind the tapestry. A Nexian phenomenon that you¡¯re trying to apply to all adjacent realms?¡± ¡°And with holes and imperfections in said tapestry allowing the light of the Primavale to come through, yes! I knew you¡¯d understand, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor beamed brightly, standing tall and proud now. ¡°Moreover, unlike the Nexus, adjacent realms simply do not have the ability to naturally gain access to the Primavale. This is why adjacent realms are finite in nature, whereas the Nexus is infinite. The night tapestry teases you with what you could have, but that which is impossible to gain.¡± The deluxe kobold had just about reached maximum ego saturation by this point. ¡°So now do you understand, earthrealmer? Now do you comprehend exactly why it is impossible to have ¡®reached¡¯ said ¡®stars¡¯?¡± ¡°I mean¡ª¡± ¡°They are merely tears in the fabric!¡± He interjected. ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­ I understand Ilunor.¡± I began. ¡°I see you finally admit your submission to reason¡ª¡± ¡°I understand why you believe this to be the case, at least.¡± I interjected, once more pulling the wind out of his sails. ¡°Earthrealmer, please, be reasonable¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯ll wait to cast judgement on the nature of the Nexus next time. I won¡¯t jump to conclusions just yet, especially considering how you are in an entirely different realm of existence with different universal rules.¡± I finally admitted, the imaginative side of me willing to give him that much leeway, at least for now. ¡°However, I expect the same sort of respect in return. Because by that same logic, not every adjacent realm is going to be operating using the natural laws of the Nexus. Now I can¡¯t speak for all realms, but at least when it comes to my own, I can safely say that your natural laws simply do not apply.¡± The Vunerian¡¯s features dropped to one of frustration once more, as he yanked us out of the sight-seer abruptly, and back onto solid ground. ¡°What you speak of is an impossibility which I cannot¡ª¡± ¡°ENOUGH!¡± A loud growl suddenly drew both of our attention out from our fighting as we both turned to its source ¡ª Thalmin. ¡°I apologize for my brashness, but we are getting nowhere with mere words.¡± He spoke sternly towards Ilunor before turning towards me. ¡°Emma, I am assuming you have evidence to support your claims?¡± ¡°Yeah, I do, actually.¡± I beamed out, garnering a nod from Thacea and an anxious smile from Thalmin. ¡°Then let us see it.¡± The wolf declared, prompting our move from the living room and into my dorm.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma¡¯s Room. Local Time: 2300 Emma It took only a few minutes to prime up the ZNK-19, with my ARMS once more carrying out most of the grunt work in setting up the tarps. ¡°If I were to entertain such a preposterous claim, earthrealmer, then we must address the proverbial dragon in the room.¡± Ilunor began with a skeptical breath. ¡°What is it, Ilunor?¡± ¡°It is clear we have reached a practical impasse. As discerned from our experiences in my sight-seer, you clearly lack the means to prove your claims.¡± I let out a huge sigh, my ARMS stopping to accentuate my frustrations. ¡°Go on?¡± ¡°Whilst you have demonstrated a surprisingly robust understanding of Aethra Primum, and indeed, your drones demonstrate your people¡¯s ability to apply this understanding to an extent¡­ I cannot help but to cast doubt over your ability to extend this beyond mere toys and golems.¡± I paused, feeling my eyes twitching at that logic. ¡°Didn¡¯t you already see our planes in the presentation¡ª¡± ¡°Indeed I did.¡± Ilunor acknowledged. ¡°However, I have reasons to doubt the veracity of such sights. This is because I find no plausible means of suspending my disbelief with regards to manaless flight applied to such scales. Especially when such a prospect implies that such feats are possible using the limiting principles of Aethra Primum.¡± I could practically feel the fundamental systemic incongruency in the air. Prompting me to take it slow, if only to make sure my answers could effectively address his remaining doubts. ¡°And why wouldn¡¯t it be, Ilunor?¡± ¡°Because many have tried and all have failed.¡± Ilunor responded bluntly. ¡°There is no known means of manaless power capable of lifting a being larger than a tearplitter eagle off the ground. Anything larger requires at least the aid of enchanted wind-projectors in order to create the power necessary to achieve lift.¡± ¡°So what I¡¯m hearing here is that you simply don¡¯t believe that a manaless equivalent is possible?¡± I started to grin widely, as my inner speed demon cackled within. ¡°I am surprised that you would acknowledge your own folly, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor nodded with a smirk. ¡°And I¡¯m surprised you¡¯d be so brazen with your assumptions, Ilunor. Because my drones? They¡¯re nothing compared to what I¡¯m about to show you.¡± I paused, flicking on the ZNK-19, as its towers began whirring up. ¡°Our kind has been obsessed with reaching the skies for millennia. And where our lack of wings or mana has kept us from achieving it the easy way, we didn¡¯t just pack our things and called it a day ¡ª no. We were ravenous, relentless in our pursuits, determined to get there in spite of our ¡®limitations¡¯¡ª¡± I paused, as the scene around us slowly loaded up vector-line by vector-line, assembling together one of the most iconic scenes that started it all. ¡°¡ªeven if it meant we had to do it the hard way.¡± Chapter 112: The Iron Lung Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma¡¯s Room. Thalmin Not since childhood had I gazed out at the night sky to consider what could actually lay beyond the tapestry. For such a notion had already been addressed. First by pre-reformation Havenbrockian beliefs. Then later by the much more ¡®objective Nexian truths¡¯. These truths, popular amongst the ¡®enlightened¡¯ Havenbrockian elite, had long since resulted in the deferral of objective truths to Nexian conventional wisdom. Relegating Havenbrockian beliefs to just that ¡ª beliefs. It was acceptable to still believe in the light of the ancestors. It was even fashionable within the immediate royal circle for those who wished to pay lip service to our family¡¯s traditional inclinations. However, it was more accepted that both concepts were distinct yet mutually inclusive, that the stars could be tears in the tapestry, and that there was a sort of miasmic immaterium that lurked beyond the wispy dark. The ancestors could very well still exist within that sea of light, their memories preserved as the various star-signs and sky-lights, hovering high and prominently over us. Truth and belief could coexist. However, I was warned that my experiences in the Nexus would come to overrule this tentative balance of beliefs. I was cautioned against looking too deep into the infinite dark ¡®perfection¡¯ of the Nexian tapestry. It was thus, after the dispelling of the clouds, that I was faced with that very uncomfortable sight. A sight which shook me to my core, but not enough to cause a crisis of faith. Strangely, it was Emma of all people who seemed to be most bothered by this sight; as if her very grip on reality had been stripped from her the moment the clouds parted. I was¡­ worried at certain points, concerned that her ¡®newrealmer¡¯ status was finally catching up to her. This worry, thankfully, proved to be null and void. As the earthrealmer promptly went about her own antics, revealing that her anxieties stemmed not from a crisis of belief, but instead¡­ a crisis of curiosity. She defied any and all newrealmer expectations, deftly avoiding the pitfalls that would otherwise entrance and ensnare those from lesser realms. If anything, she pursued a narrative not only unexpected ¡ª but entirely blasphemous. It was as exciting as it was disturbing to see. The latter became especially more pronounced the more the Vunerian tried to fight it. The Vunerian¡¯s sight-seer had reignited my fires of concern over the Nexian narrative as opposed to the alternative offered by Emma. Especially as memories of Aethraship war-monoliths emerged to the forefront, as fresh as the day I first saw them. This raised¡­ concerns. Not with regards to the viability of Emma¡¯s manaless Aethra-vessels, so much as it was a worry of their capabilities. It was moreso a question of whether or not these aerial constructs ¡ª owing to their manaless dispositions ¡ª would be able to match the Nexus¡¯ unparalleled mastery over the skies. The Nexus, after all, held exclusive dominance and superiority in this theatre of war. And while it was rare for the Nexus to deploy said vessels in acts of war, given battle and planar mages alike rarely needed such conventional forces, it was still an aspect of war that could never be understated. For it added a dimensionality of war that almost every other realm lacked an equivalent to, let alone significant counters to match it. It was thus, in the pitch darkness of this manaless sight-seer, that the truth behind Emma¡¯s claims would be revealed. I knew not what awaited me, especially given the scarcity of Aethran knowledge Havenbrock held both prior and following the Nexian reformations. But this ignorance served only to fuel the flames of excitement welling within me, as my mind attempted to wrap itself around this most novel of concepts ¡ª manaless flight on a truly epic scale.
Thacea ¡°You really must stop bookending your statements with such bizarre and flighty proclamations, earthrealmer.¡± The Vunerian began with a dismissive slight, just as our surroundings started to shift. The darkness of the tarp quickly turned into a blinding light courtesy of the spinning obelisks, entrapping us within a world of featureless white. Following which, a new world was summoned piecemeal. As patch by patch, through mannaless means as impressive as it was enigmatic, was this impossible world conjured up once more. In a surprising parallel to the Vunerian¡¯s sight-seer, we found ourselves standing in the midst of a sea of grassy sand-dunes, poised atop of a hill overlooking what seemed to be two modestly dressed humans, both of whom held nothing in their hands but a few stray pieces of paper and two leather-bound notebooks. Their features, once more obscured from the supposed limitations of this manaless sight-seer. ¡°That¡¯s because it¡¯s true, Ilunor.¡± Emma began, gesturing towards what was ostensibly an unimpressive sight amidst an equally unimpressive setting. ¡°We both seem to possess the same knowledge of worldly principles, of rules and axioms which govern the way things work.¡± She continued, as our point of reference soon moved closer towards the two humans, allowing us a glimpse inside of their furious notetaking. ¡°We both understand the limitations of reality, and we both yearn to be free from it.¡± Foreign symbols were strewn about the ruled pages, alongside sketches of large birds of prey, with a striking emphasis on the morphology and physiology of their wings. ¡°But where we differ isn¡¯t in our intent to overcome these restrictive constraints, but the manner in which we went about defying it.¡± Emma continued as the scene shifted once more, revealing what appeared to be the inside of some workshop, dominated not by the tools of an Aethran Artificer but by those of a smithy¡¯s repair shop. ¡°Whereas the Nexus prides itself in overcoming these limiting principles by sidestepping and outright circumventing it, utilizing means as innate and second-nature to those with the power to wield it, we instead had no such luxuries.¡± She continued, the scene in front of us accelerating through time, gradually revealing the construction of a strange and primitive looking construct ¡ª a two-layered wing pieced together out of pieces of metal and fabric. ¡°But through careful experimentation¡ª¡± The scene once more shifted to the sand dunes, as the archaic construct took to the air¡­ on a powerful gust of wind, held in place by the two humans using bundles of twine like an oversized kite. ¡°¡ªand much, much suffering¡ª¡± The glider soon plummeted to the ground as quickly as it took flight, the scene repeating itself through multiple trials and successive design iterations. ¡°¡ªwe eventually gathered enough observations of the natural world to commit to our path of defiance.¡± We were thrown once again into the workshop, Thalmin in particular noting the appearance of a familiar vehicle from Emma¡¯s present nestled in various nooks around the shop ¡ª the bicycle. However, that momentary distraction was eventually overtaken by the appearance of an entirely novel¡­ artifice. What appeared to be a peculiarly designed metal box, with pipes, tubes, and chambers mysteriously shaped and forged into it. The particularities of such a complex artifice was beyond me. What wasn¡¯t entirely novel however, were the two propellers currently being affixed to the wings of this construct. Propellers which bore a striking similarity to those seen affixed to the water-borne craft of Emma¡¯s previous presentation. Throughout this, Ilunor remained silent, his maw opening as if to protest, before something seemingly clicked in his mind.
Ilunor You¡¯re playing me for a fool, earthrealmer¡­ You cannot be serious. You cannot simply apply the same concept seen on your ¡®drones¡¯ to a craft as large as this. It cannot defy leypull¡­ It cannot! ¡°It was my fault for causing you confusion on our capacity for flight, Ilunor.¡± The earthrealmer began apologetically, the sight-seer¡¯s focus quickly narrowing in upon the peculiar metal box at the heart of the abominable craft. ¡°I¡¯ve shown you our cars and I¡¯ve shown you our ships, but whilst I¡¯ve described to you the manner by which our steamships were powered, I¡¯d neglected to touch upon the other elephant in the room. This wonderfully complex yet powerful device which granted us a more compact form of power generation ¡ª through the use of a controlled sequence of carefully timed explosions.¡± I felt my eyes twitching. My face once more turned up to meet the earthrealmer¡¯s masked visage. ¡°Excuse me?!¡±
Thalmin ¡°You recall our conversations regarding our cars, correct? And the means by which they are fueled?¡± Emma asked, prompting me to nod in response. ¡°Dragon bones?¡± Ilunor seethed out. ¡°The compressed remains of plants and animals, as I recall from last week.¡± I replied, eliciting a nod from both Emma and Thacea. ¡°Yup! While coal was for the longest time the prime example of this dense and wonderful source of energy, we eventually discovered something else that outperformed it. Another substance born out of a similar natural phenomenon, piped out of the ground, but a lot less solid.¡± Emma spoke cryptically, and in an act that gave me pause for thought, unexpectedly manifested a vial of some inky black substance in the palm of her hand. I took a moment to compose myself, as that sight-seer trick sent shivers down my spine given how¡­ lifeless that magic-like motion was. ¡°Does it burn?¡± Thacea pressed abruptly, prompting Emma to nod in acknowledgement. ¡°Yeah, we call it petroleum¡ª¡± ¡°Nightfire sap.¡± Thacea concluded. ¡°Pitchwine.¡± I followed up just as quickly. ¡°It is a substance known to many realms, as it occasionally rises up from the depths of the earth.¡± Thacea clarified. ¡°However, beyond its use in roadwork, waterproofing and other miscellaneous industries, alchemists and mages have found it to be just another component in their library of available philters.¡± Emma nodded at that explanation, and through the same manaless tricks, caused the vial of pitchwine to suddenly change into a clear yellowish fluid. ¡°For the longest time, that¡¯s what we used it for as well. However, we eventually discovered that when processed through certain¡­ manaless alchemical processes, that the resultant fluid was perfect for this little guy¡ª¡± Emma pantomimed, ¡®tapping¡¯ the strange metal box at the heart of the winged construct. ¡°¡ªthe internal combustion engine.¡±
Thacea No sooner did Emma finish her explanations were we treated to a dynamic view of the ¡®heart¡¯ of this construct. Layer by layer, this strange artifice was humbled down into what Emma described as its ¡®fundamental components¡¯, each being highlighted with distinct colors for ease of identification. The first of which, was a hollow cylindrical chamber, kept sealed on one end via a ¡®piston¡¯ analogous to the ¡®pistons¡¯ aboard those ¡®steamships¡¯, and on the other by the metal of the ¡®engine¡¯ itself. But atop of that upper seal were several more components, one which Emma described as an ¡®applicator¡¯ for its fuel source, another being its source of ignition, and two other small pipes which controlled its ¡®breath¡¯. The purpose of which was quickly shown in a demonstration that quickly enraptured every fiber of my being. In a cycle consisting of four distinct phases, we watched as the artifice rumbled to life, taking in its first hungry fuel-filled breaths ¡ª with motions analogous to what I could only describe as breathing. I stared in anticipation as the ¡®piston¡¯ cycled downwards, sucking in air and fuel, before violently igniting it, followed not too shortly by an exhale of noxious fumes. Emma¡¯s previously vague claim of ¡®harnessing the power of explosions¡¯, finally manifesting itself in a marriage of artificiality and nature. This cycle was quickly repeated in the next cylinder, followed by the next and the next until all four cylinders had completed a set of motions each identical to the last, moving in a staggered, almost natural flow. Its motions were nothing short of mesmerizing, my eyes engrossed by the complex machinations of this most violent of reactions, as this harmony of moving steel seemed to serve but one distressingly simple goal ¡ª the rotation of a long shaft of metal. The same goals as the larger steam-powered vessels we saw the week prior. Part of me wondered if this was the extent to manaless ingenuity, that for all of its complexities, all paths seemed to converge towards the production of these most basic of motions. It was at that point however that a realization dawned on me ¡ª it mattered not how simple the end result seemed to be, but rather, the manner by which such simple movements could be harnessed into far more powerful motions. What at first could be belittled as a rotating piece of metal, was shown to be able to propel a ship of immense size through the water. Now, that same principle ¡ª the rotation of this ¡®crankshaft¡¯ as Emma referred to it ¡ª was bound to propel this craft of steel and canvas through the air.
Ilunor I felt sick. There was something very¡­ wrong about the way this¡­ engine breathed. There was something distinctly false, excruciatingly unnerving, and horrendously unsettling about the back and forth motions of its diaphragm. An organ which spun up and down, up and down, up and down, spinning on and on and on and on again, all a futile effort to spin yet more parts of metal. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Whereas the ¡®steamships¡¯ inner workings were¡­ strangely straightforward, the motions of this engine felt alien and surreal, as it mimicked the breathing motions of living things, but in a manner that made a mockery of their living. Most distressingly ¡ª it was a mockery of the draconic heritage; of the fires that dwelled within. I attempted to look away. To ignore the ¡®controlled explosions¡¯ within this artifice fit only for a madman.
Thalmin All of this complexity¡­ and for what? The rotational motion of a simple shaft of metal? I was mesmerized by the first explosion. My barely restrained grin was brought to bare to its fullest extent as I saw all cylinders firing one after another. The harnessing of explosions using nothing but solid steel and raw physical effort¡­ was nothing short of enthralling. Moreover, the catalyst for these motions, the progenitor of its life force, this¡­ purified Pitchwine, was the result of manaless alchemical processes that were beyond revolutionary. Which was why I felt my disappointment growing to immeasurable extremes as I saw the end result ¡ª the rotation of a simple shaft of metal. I sighed, waiting, hoping that as the sight-seer pulled out, that we would at least be greeted to some grand sight. The sight, however, was not entirely grand nor was it outright disappointing. As connected to that shaft was a large metal wheel, one which was bound via two chains running through to the two propellers on either side of the wing. This confusing setup was quickly put to action however, as I saw the ultimate ends of those explosions ¡ª the rotation of the large metal wheel, and by extension, the driving of those metal chains. Soon enough, the propellers started to turn. And it was in that moment that a realization started to dawn on me. All of that complexity, all those fine-tuned motions, the advanced metallurgy behind this ¡®engine¡¯ and the precise smithing needed to coerce the power of explosions into the rotation of a simple piece of metal. This entire endeavor¡­ was all in the service of the spinning of a propeller. What would¡¯ve taken a simple imbued crystal, or the afterthought of a mage, instead took the earthrealmers a thousand different steps to reach.
Thacea Questions were raised, all of which culminated in our return to the grassy sand dunes, where we were now poised atop of a hill overlooking what seemed to be a crowd of phantom humans ¡ª dressed in attire more reserved and less colorful than that of her ¡®present¡¯ world. The dual-level winged construct of metal, wood, and canvas was now set atop of a rail leading to nowhere. Inside of it, positioned awkwardly by the explosion-driven engine, was one of the humans from earlier; recognizable only by his attire which remained the only distinguishing feature amidst these phantom-like apparitions. ¡°Nearly half a decade of design work and research, field testing and prototyping, all in an effort to reach this point.¡± Emma began, her voice overpowering the murmurs from the crowd of humans carrying strange boxy artifices fixed atop of wooden legs that all pointed towards the craft. ¡°They utilized every single aspect of their experience to reach this point too, even going so far to use bicycle chains to transfer the mechanical power of the engine to that of the two propellers. And even with all of that work, none of this would be possible without the work of countless others around them. From the employee they commissioned to build their engine, to the chains they ordered in, to even the batteries they installed, all of this is a combination of hundreds more industries leading to the possibility of this day¡¯s venture.¡± All three of us remained silent, our eyes locked onto this flimsy and clumsy looking construct, its ¡®engine¡¯ sputtering to life, generating an entirely foreign sound completely divorced from anything I¡¯d ever experienced. This¡­ sputtering felt far less impressive than the close-in examples from earlier, what¡¯s more, the ¡®power¡¯ they generated seemed to barely turn these propellers at all. I felt every element of my avinor soul chastising this foolhardy attempt. Every inkling of common sense and conventional wisdom told me this wouldn¡¯t work. This was in spite of my understanding of Emma¡¯s achievements, and the objective proof of her capabilities in flight. For a fleeting moment, I even managed to empathize with the Vunerian. Though emphasis needed to be put on that operative word ¡ª fleeting. Reality would soon set the record straight however, as the rickety vessel accelerated leisurely along its rail, bouncing and tossing before suddenly¡­ it no longer did. In a scene reminiscent of fledglings attempting to reach for the skies in their very first flight ¡ª the vessel ascended. Slowly, and at a questionable angle of attack, but successfully all the same. Memories of my first flight invariably surfaced, as I could viscerally feel a sense of second-hand excitement; the giddiness, the sheer joy that was one¡¯s first flight. Though as much as those memories burned bright with the success of one¡¯s first flight, so too were they littered with¡­ less than desirable moments. Moments which were quickly reflected in the sight-seer. Because barely after twelve seconds of flight did the entire craft poetically mirror the ending of about every fledgling¡¯s first defiance of leypull ¡ª a controlled crash.
Ilunor And there it was. The so-called success of ¡®powered flight¡¯. Whilst the princess¡¯ features were similarly indiscernible, it was clear that Prince Thalmin shared my frustrations. ¡°So, earthrealmer¡­ is that all you have to¡ª¡± I stopped, a sense of whiplash springing up unexpectedly as time within this manaless sight-seer moved forward. Hours elapsed in a matter of seconds, as the failure of a craft was once more brought to its starting ramp. Following which, the sputtering started once more, and with a helpful gust of wind was this vessel brought aloft. Though that too ended in yet another failure. This pattern soon repeated, once, then twice, until finally the cycle was broken. In what I assumed was a fluke, this vessel of wood, metal, and canvas remained aloft for scarcely a minute. Though part of me wished to dismiss this negligible improvement, I couldn¡¯t help but to feel something welling within the earthrelamer. Her silence¡­ speaking volumes.
Thacea Perseverance. This was a story of perseverance. Emma¡¯s sight-seer pressed on without a single word of narration, as we were treated to these two humans toiling month after month, making incremental improvements and iterative changes over their construct. Flight after flight was made, each marginally better than the last, as the flight time and distances covered soon increased to the point that an Avinor flight-nurse would consider within acceptable margins. But that wasn¡¯t the end of the story. Far from it. The scene quickly shifted once more, as we materialized far from the sand dunes and onto a harbor, overlooking a winged craft floating in the bay. ¡°This is eleven years later.¡± Emma began. ¡°While our first successful and recognized pioneers ¡ª the Wright Brothers ¡ª continued on their own journey, the world did not sit idly by following news of their success.¡± Reinforcing this assertion, Emma¡¯s sight-seer briefly displayed images of hundreds of phantom-like humans, each proudly displaying their own take on that first craft, each with designs more bizarre and varied than the last. ¡°Most failed, or faded into obscurity. But some, like the craft you see before you, pushed to become firsts in their own right.¡± This equally small, yet vastly more sturdy vessel, was quickly boarded by two humans, before confidently and with surprising grace, taking to the skies without a single issue or incident. That simple fact alone gave me pause for thought. But it wouldn¡¯t be the only thing to do so. ¡°While unremarkable on the surface, this was the first recorded instance of an official commercial passenger flight. A fixed route, from one city to another aboard an aircraft, had effectively cut travel times by orders of magnitude. What would have taken twelve hours on land and two hours by ship, now only took twenty minutes on a single flight.¡± Emma paused, showing the aircraft in question landing at the harbor of a larger city, its two occupants leaving shortly thereafter. ¡°Now, when you factor in¡ª¡± ¡°This can¡¯t be all.¡± Thalmin suddenly interjected, his eyes narrowing at that small craft and its two occupants.
Thalmin ¡°In eleven years, you¡¯ve managed to improve what was merely a novelty, a demonstration piece, into a viable manaless construct capable of sustained flight.¡± I continued. ¡°Twenty minutes of uninterrupted flight, with the ability to ascend and descend seemingly in a moment¡¯s notice ¡ª all for a pleasure cruise?¡± ¡°I mean, this is the first commercial flight, leading to what would become a massive industry that connects the world through millions of concurrent flights¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m saying, Emma.¡± I interrupted with a frustrated growl. ¡°This capability, this¡­ mastery over a construct capable of taking both you and others aboard? Did your people truly only consider it as a means of transport?¡± I paused, leveling my eyes with an excited gleam underpinning my gaze. ¡°Or did you consider less peaceful applications too?¡± Emma didn¡¯t respond, not immediately that is, as the world once more dematerialized all around us. We quickly found ourselves no longer amidst the quaint and beautifully adorned towns, cities, or greenery of Emma¡¯s idyllic world, but instead a land seemingly engulfed by something I was regrettably familiar with ¡ª death. All around us, the pock-marks of war dominated a grey and muddy expanse. Husks of trees stood where verdant forests clearly once existed. Scores of trenches and foxholes littered almost every available inch of land, and strange objects ¡ª what appeared to be large tubes of metal ¡ª sat ominously behind the lines. It took me a moment to connect the dots. To understand what I was looking at. A quick glance over to Emma¡¯s holstered weapon was all it took to understand what these artifacts were. And it shook me to my core. ¡°Emma¡­ where are we?¡± I began before quickly adding. ¡°When are we¡ª¡± VVVVvvrrrrrr!! A now-familiar sound suddenly erupted overhead, as I looked up to see a small object loitering amidst the clouds, one that grew larger and larger with each passing moment before I came to understand what it was. RAT-TAT-TA-T-TATA-T-T-AT-AT! The sounds of distant¡­ explosions filled the air, as behind that first three-winged flighted construct came a dual-winged construct poised seemingly for the kill. And in a display of what I could only closely describe was drake-fighting, I watched in awe as these manaless aethraships engaged in some kind of invisible battle ¡ª dodging, weaving, ducking, and rolling against a flurry of invisible strikes. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that unlike magic, there¡¯s no visible balls of fire or bolts of lighting here.¡± Emma began in a more severe tone than usual. ¡°Instead, you¡¯ll just have to imagine hundreds upon hundreds of small metal projectiles being slung at you at speeds faster than sound itself. Each duck, each weave, an attempt to avoid your enemy landing a shot at you. Until, of course, one of you does.¡± The earthrealmer paused, as this invisible duel reached its tipping point with the construct in front suddenly bursting into flames. ¡°And to answer your earlier question, Thalmin? We¡¯re just four years into the future following that first commercial flight, near the tail-end of our first global conflict.¡± I felt my heart sink. Moreover, I could feel my muscles tense at that acknowledgement. Fifteen years. Fifteen years following an impressive but admittedly-limiting proof of concept? ¡°Fifteen years¡­ from fledgling to sky wardens?¡± Thacea uttered out, her eyes deep with wariness. ¡°Fifteen years from that first flight to fully actualized military aviation, yeah.¡± Emma responded with a nod. ¡°Though I wouldn¡¯t fixate on that, princess.¡± She spoke with a reassuring breath, as we were once more thrown into an entirely new location. This time, we seemed to be aboard some sort of an ocean-faring vessel, one of Emma¡¯s ¡®steamships¡¯. ¡°We¡¯re in the middle of one of our largest oceans, with nothing but water for thousands of miles in either direction.¡± She began. ¡°For the longest time, this was our sole means of travel across them. However, like with many things, that all changed with a little bit of technical ingenuity, some smart design-work, and a whole lot of gusto.¡± I could feel Emma grinning as we heard the tell-tale signs of an ¡®engine¡¯ deep within the clouds. High above us, we saw what appeared to be a speck barely moving across the skies. However, with a quick help of the sight-seer, we were greeted by a larger, far more ambitiously-sized craft soaring above the endless expanse of ocean. ¡°1919, just one year after the conclusion of the war I just showed you, marked the first non-stop transatlantic flight.¡± Emma beamed out. ¡°Over three thousand miles of ocean, traversed in a single hop.¡± None of us spoke following that proclamation, as we merely watched this craft slowly, but surely, reaching the shores of a rocky coast.
Thacea A nonstop flight between continents. An endless journey across a vast ocean. A fool¡¯s errand, save for those with the strongest of constitutions. ¡°And there were no ships to aid this craft in the event of¡ª¡± ¡°Nope. Being the first necessitates a lot of risk-taking. So in this case, with nothing but a full tank of gas and two powerful engines, did John Alcock and Arthur Brown make this trip above a merciless sea which would¡¯ve swallowed them whole.¡± I nodded in silence, electing to instead watch as Emma¡¯s sight-seer stayed seemingly in place, showing us what appeared to be yet another plane making the flight between continents. This time however, the vessel in question was fundamentally different. Because instead of two wings, this craft had merely one. And a single propeller as well. ¡°Eight years later. The first solo transatlantic flight, on a single-engine monoplane aircraft.¡± Emma spoke boisterously, prompting the pace of things to move infinitely faster following the lack of any interjections. ¡°Three years later.¡± She began, the scene in front of us shifting to a flat strip of cement, and what appeared to be a larger ¡®monoplane¡¯ craft. One that completely overshadowed the size of all that came before it. ¡°The first herald of mass air travel and commercial aviation ¡ª the creation of the DC-3.¡± But before we could even marvel at this increase not only in size, but a clear refinement in design philosophy, we were quickly thrust forward; aircraft of various designs started cycling across our eyes in rapid succession. With sizes as varied as were their designs, some of the largest appearing to be the size of actual ships ¡ª what Emma referred to as the ¡®Spruce Goose¡¯ ¡ª we watched in awe as these impossible creations flooded our senses. However, a fundamental shift started to occur sometime between the latter showing of these aircraft, as what were formerly propellers were replaced with what could only be described as conical nacelles. A fact which caused the Vunerian to widen his eyes, as he halted the earthrealmer before she could continue further. Stopping us right as we saw the largest aircraft of this new paradigm so far. ¡°Yes, Ilunor? Do you have any questions about the de Havilland Comet¡ª¡± ¡°I care not for what this De Havilland has concocted, but instead, I need to know what those are.¡± He pointed at the aircraft¡¯s embedded nacelles. Which Emma more than gladly took apart piece by piece. Showing the Vunerian that what was inside wasn¡¯t the catalyst crystals he so feared, but instead, even more propellers. Smaller propellers. Almost-blade like, in fact. As it would seem as if the humans had iterated to the point where this humble concept was taken to its impossible extreme. Surprisingly, this seemed to do little in appeasing the Vunerian, but not for the reasons I had imagined.
Ilunor All of this¡­ just to mimic a fraction of our power. All of this¡­ just to match what magic could do in its most simplest of permutations. The turning of a simple rod of metal. The pushing of air to propel a craft. How could it have gotten them to this state? How could spinning propellers result in this?! Complexity upon complexity, begetting only more esotericisms, all for the sake of incremental improvements through iterative changes. This all should have stopped around that first flying construct. Their iterative improvement should¡¯ve stalled far before that war. This rate of expansion, the depths of complexity, it all should have reached its functional ends far before this point. Yet it didn¡¯t. If anything, it only hastened. I halted the earthrealmer before she could continue, before this charade could go on any further. I¡­ needed to address what it was we were here to address. I needed to extricate myself from a foregone conclusion I should have accepted from the onset of our discussions. The earthrealmer¡­ was right. But an open admission meant that I wouldn¡¯t ever hear the end of it. That was, unless I proved her wrong in her latter points. ¡°Earthrealmer¡­ I will consider conceding, but only if you humor me on this final point.¡± I offered. ¡°What is it now, Ilunor?¡± ¡°Whilst I can see how you may have indeed reached for the skies in your¡­ manaless craft, I have yet to see you reaching beyond the tapestry. None of these vessels seem capable of doing that, now can they?¡± The earthrealmer paused, and for a moment, it felt as if she considered saying yes. ¡°You¡¯re technically correct on that point, Ilunor.¡± I could hear her smiling behind that helmet. And it infuriated me. ¡°Address the question, earth¡ª¡± ¡°From what I¡¯ve shown you so far? No.¡± ¡°Then¡ª¡± ¡°Let¡¯s skip to that point in time then, shall we?¡± She beamed. Following which, we were thrust into an entirely different realm.
Thalmin What stood before us was no longer a manaless facsimile of avian proportions made of wood, canvas, steel, or whatever material Emma had prattled on about over the ensuing half hour. No. Instead, what stood before us, towering over us, standing pridefully aloft plinths and platforms like monuments and shrines to earthrealm¡¯s manaless defiance¡­ were towers. Multiple, tens, and then hundreds of towers manifesting before us like a city unto its own. From tapered towers of dark green and white, to near-vertical cylinders of pure white and black, all the way to what seemed to be a reddened cone holding aloft a strange ¡®airplane¡¯-like craft ¡ª the scene in front of us was a diverse collection of alien towers, each harboring an intent to perform the impossible. ¡°What I am about to show you next is a fundamentally different path to the one we took in attaining mastery over the skies.¡± Emma began, her words echoing within this ethereal realm of towering monoliths. ¡°Because in order to reach the heavens, to pierce through the tapestry, to finally dislodge ourselves from leypull itself? We found that the energy harvested from caged explosions was no longer enough. Instead, we had to take our gloves off, skipping straight past the middleman ¡ª propelling ourselves atop of the raw and unmitigated power of combustion itself.¡± She declared with glee, ¡®resting¡¯ her hand against the base of one of these towers, eliciting a low otherworldly rumble of some unimaginable enigmatic beast. ¡°What you¡¯re about to see is a story of humanity turning the impossible into the mundane. A story of dreams not only becoming a reality, but the norm. A story that started with us breaching the void with machines, and ending with us landing upon the multitude of realms which soar above. This is the story of what spawned the modern world as I know it. This is the story of our race to space and our proliferation of Gaia beyond the tapestry.¡± Chapter 113: Children of the Void Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma¡¯s Room. Thacea This was it. The promised revelation. The hopes and dreams of empiricalists long dead and forgotten, brought to fruition within the confines of this impossible construct. An impossible sight, brought about by impossible means, at the hands of an impossible entity. What was once a dream snubbed at by the arcanists, and snuffed out by the mages, was now proving to be anything but a long dead concept. Standing in front of me, not unlike artifacts in a museum, were constructs bordering on the absurd ¡ª windowless towers of questionable aesthetics, and grand spires unsuitable for anything but grandiose monumentality. These shrines to height, dedicated seemingly only to ego and hubris, served a purpose far greater than any symbol or monument to house and clan. For they served a purpose once thought impossible. A means of conveyance from the dirt through the tapestry. Their size ¡ª proportional to the immensity of such a task. Their design ¡ª thematically poignant. Resembling needles meant to pierce straight through the fabric of quilts and tapestries alike. Their underlying mechanisms, however, remained vague despite Emma¡¯s grandiose descriptions. Harnessing the energy from caged explosions was no longer enough. Instead, we had to take our gloves off, skipping straight past the middleman ¡ª propelling ourselves atop of the raw and unmitigated power of combustion itself. The conclusions drawn from such a statement¡­ were nothing short of ludicrous. The breaching of the tapestry couldn¡¯t have been that straightforward. ¡­ Could it? Indeed, if the caging of explosions within those engine-artifices was of any indication, then there must be some form of enigmatic manaless means of harnessing the pure power of combustion; one powerful enough to propel these towers of iron and steel through the heavens. The visualization of which¡­ proved nigh-impossible to manifest. As imagining one of these monoliths attempting flight as they were¡­ was not just ludicrous, but an exercise in insanity. At which point, did I finally realize the leypull of the situation. I was actively considering, through no uncertain terms, the flight of literal towers. Towers the size of those found in Aetheron¡¯s capital, lifted not through some Nexian planar magics fueled by its boundless streams of mana, but by manaless means. I awaited my disbelief to settle, and for doubt to slowly precipitate, amidst the brisk yet meandering carousel of towers slowly diminishing in size. But it never did. Or at least, not in any significant quantity to quash the impossible conclusions my heart and mind had already since reached. I understood, in no uncertain terms, the sorts of impossibilities Emma was capable of. Moreover, our discussions on¡­ the void and the expanse beyond the tapestry had instilled within me a compelling acceptance of Earthrealm''s seemingly impossible reach. It stood to reason then, given my certainty of Earthrealm¡¯s foregone destination, that the manner in which said destination was reached was a more palatable point of contention by comparison. But this clearly wasn¡¯t the case for all present, as Ilunor and Thalmin were quick to demonstrate. ¡°Towers.¡± Ilunor began indignantly. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you wish to proclaim these towers as somehow key to your claims of piercing through the tapestry?¡± The Vunerian spoke with as much skeptical bluster as he could muster. ¡°I, for one, believe it to be a novel endeavor.¡± Thalmin interjected atop a more confident cadence. ¡°There have been a great many stories of impossibly tall towers in old Havenbrockian tales. Towers that reach for the heavens, and some which dare to reach beyond it. I believe it to be a logical conclusion then, given the sheer height of the towers seen in Earthrealm¡¯s grand cities, that there exist towers tall enough and grand enough to pierce through the tapestry.¡± Ilunor¡¯s features remained surprisingly unfazed by that statement, refusing to hint at his acknowledgement or dismissal at the prince¡¯s assertions. Though it would be Emma who would respond not with a firm or definitive answer, but instead¡­ a sheepish insistence on moving past Thalmin¡¯s points altogether. ¡°I mean¡­ you¡¯re not wrong, Thalmin.¡± Emma began through what I could only describe as a reluctant admission. One which elicited a set of wide-eyed incredulous looks from all present. ¡°But I¡¯d prefer we start at the beginning, rather than skipping right through to the end.¡± This¡­ outright admission through omission stoked the flames of curiosity welling within me, as memories of that private sight-seer, of that¡­ impossible construct floating above Acela once more came into my mind¡¯s eye. ¡°Then let us begin, Emma.¡± I spoke eagerly, watching as we arrived at what was quite possibly one of the smallest towers yet. One that barely reached the height of an outer-ring townhouse in the Isle of Towers. ¡°This was the first.¡± Emma began, gesturing towards this four-finned oblong tower. ¡°The first to breach the tapestry, that is.¡± She continued. ¡°But before I show you that fateful flight, and the successive flights that took place in the years and decades since, I¡¯d first like to show you the basics of how all this works.¡± The carousel of monuments shifted leftwards, passing by stranger and smaller artifacts, before arriving at an innocuous item that shifted the entire dynamic of this demonstration. A humble firespear. My features immediately darkened, as I reflexively shifted my gaze back towards the endless row of towers that stretched on into the artificial horizon. Their shape, their function, all of them couldn¡¯t have possibly just been based on the simple fundamentals of an alchemist¡¯s toy¡ª ¡°No.¡± Ilunor began, voicing what felt like our collective disbelief as he took a step back. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly have us believe that you¡¯ve iterated and adopted the primitive principles of what is at worst a toy and at best a primitive attempt at shimmer-stars.¡± The Vunerian¡¯s voice shook, not so much out of fear as it was out of sheer disbelief. ¡°You¡­ you can¡¯t possibly be using firespears for what is effectively¡­¡± Ilunor trailed off, allowing Emma to interject. ¡°Yes.¡± Emma began through a cocksure cadence. ¡°That¡¯s precisely what I¡¯m getting at. And just to make sure we¡¯re all on the same page, I¡¯m assuming that your definition of ¡®firespear¡¯ is that of a tube packed with solid propellant that ignites in order to¡ª¡± ¡°It is a toy, Emma Booker!¡± Ilunor reiterated through a hiss, acknowledging Emma¡¯s query without directly addressing it. ¡°How can you have us believe¡ª¡± The carousel moved once more, silencing the Vunerian if only for a moment as we were introduced to what appeared to be a chair¡­ with a disconcertingly large number of firespears strapped beneath it. ¡°We¡¯ve been toying with the idea for literal millenia before we finally got it right.¡± Emma interjected. ¡°I won¡¯t have you believe that a simple shimmer-star firespear is what got us beyond the tapestry. That¡¯s just absurd. Because in a similar story to aerial craft, we started from what was ostensibly the right idea, but executed in a way that just didn¡¯t quite cut it. Take for example Wan Hu over here, a civil servant back in one of our ancient civilizations. We know little about him, heck, some people dispute he even existed. But it¡¯s his story that tells so much about our desire, our dreams of breaching the tapestry.¡± ¡°A dream that involves strapping about fifty firespears to the bottom of a chair, Emma?¡± Thalmin interjected with a cock of his head. ¡°Well like I said, we had to start from somewhere. And whether or not this ever happened, the fact it was imagined up at all shows just how long we¡¯ve had this dream, and the trial by fire by which we would eventually reach it.¡± The scene quickly demonstrated the¡­ catastrophic results of the firespear chair. As after an uproarious series of cheers from the crowd, was the chair simply reduced to dust. This was not to mention the fate of the well-appointed man himself¡­ This¡­ less than desirable turn of events was then quickly followed up by countless more similar demonstrations. With firespears of varying forms reaching for the heavens¡­ only to reach their expectant demise, or barely even lifting off the dirt at that. Each and every one starting off with the same expectant fiery hiss, before ultimately reaching its ends either in an anti-climactic bang, or a wispy fizzle. This eventually culminated in what appeared to be a spindly, innocuous, utilitarian metal rack holding within it yet another firespear. Yet there was something undeniably different about this one. As unlike the rest of the abject failures thus far, Emma¡¯s sight-seer seemed to place an inordinate amount of focus on it despite it remaining static, burning through its fuel with nothing to show for it. It was a half-minute exercise in futility. Or at least, that¡¯s what it at first appeared to be. ¡°1925, twenty-two years after our first aerial craft took to the skies. What seems innocuous and rather underwhelming is actually a critical point in rocketry. Prior to this junction, our firespears had been simple, primitive things. A tube of solid-fuel propellant, burning uncontrollably and without any guidance capability. This all changed at the hands of Robert H. Goddard, who proved on this day that liquid-fueled firespears were possible.¡± The scene quickly shifted, progressing rightwards through the carousel as similarly ramshackled firespears were shown launching¡­ and failing, over and over again. This was interspersed with successful launches, though few ever reached the heights that that Emma¡¯s manaless aethra vessels had formerly reached. However this trend too quickly took a turn, as each increase in these firespear¡¯s sizes brought with it an improvement in the successes of every launch, and an increase in their altitude. ¡°So after centuries or millennia of trial and error, suddenly using liquid fuel somehow fixes all of your problems?¡± Ilunor spoke up, crossing his arms in a look of blatant skepticism. ¡°Not exactly. It¡¯s one of the components to it. I¡¯m skipping over a lot of minor details here, Ilunor. But suffice it to say, this century was an era of immense technological progress. Lessons learned in other fields ¡ª from aviation to flight mechanics to communications and beyond ¡ª all translated into improvements in rocketry. In short, with every passing year, our increased understanding of the natural forces allowed us to iterate and improve. The advent of liquid fuel was simply a major milestone that unlocked an entirely new era in rocketry. It provided us a far more reliable means of controlling what was previously uncontrollable, giving us the reins to better tame and command the very heart of this beast ¡ª combustion itself.¡± Ilunor had been quiet throughout a major portion of that explanation, though it was the latter part that truly gave him pause for thought. Something had clearly shaken him to his core. A certain understanding that I too had garnered. ¡°Magic solved this issue.¡± I began plainly, garnering the attention of all present. ¡°The reason why firespears are relegated to a trivial amusement, is simply because there are far more practical means by which its ends can be accomplished. The lack of control of a firespear, the lack of consistency and reliability, the volatility of it ¡ª all of it and more can be addressed through magical equivalents.¡± ¡°A mage could simply adjust his manipulation of leypull itself, for one.¡± Thalmin acknowledged warily. ¡°Control and mastery over flight, is thus almost second nature to the mages that seek it.¡± I quickly added, nodding in Thalmin¡¯s direction. ¡°And would this¡­ control involve the change and mixture of alchemical solutions and reagents? Of when one is added and one is removed, or how much is aerated and what quantities to add when?¡± Ilunor suddenly inquired, his eyes narrowing and his voice wavering. ¡°Precisely, Ilunor.¡± Emma nodded sincerely, her tone of voice indicating that she was even impressed with Ilunor¡¯s assertions. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ more or less it. I mean, there¡¯s a lot more that goes into it but¡ª¡± ¡°Just get on with it, earthrealmer.¡± The Vunerian hissed, his brows quivering if only for a moment following that answer. Emma nodded, pressing onwards as the titular tower-like design of these firespears started coming into its own. This eventually culminated in that first four-story tall firespear we¡¯d started off on, standing atop of a platform in the midst of a clearing within a wooded forest. Continuous streams of thick white smoke billowed from its umbilicals, whilst almost half of its bottom ¡®fins¡¯ were likewise obscured from sight as a result of what were probably noxious fumes. Then, came a rumbling. Slow at first, but rising higher and higher in pitch and ferocity. The lingering smoke began to stir violently, while the umbilicals spewed even greater volumes of fumes, all culminating in a shriek-like roar that ushered in not just a suspiciously missing tower as was the case with ¡®Wan Hu¡¯, but instead¡­ the undeniable flight of a literal townhouse. This building-sized construct¡­ rising purely through the combustion of a firespear.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°1944. Forty-one years after the first Wright Brothers flight. The launch of a V-2 test rocket dubbed the MW18014. They didn¡¯t know it at the time, since¡­ well¡­ we hadn¡¯t yet established the boundary between the skies and space ¡ª the Karman line. But this launch marked the first man-made object to reach outer space. The first object to breach the tapestry.¡± ¡°And do you have proof of this? Images, sight-seers, shards¡ª¡± ¡°There was instrument data. But if it¡¯s images you want, then let¡¯s keep moving forward.¡± Emma announced plainly. The scene quickly shifted once more to a desert in the middle of nowhere. A firespear of similar dimensions, but additional improvements sat on its platform. As if in anticipation for what was to come, the firespear once more careened upwards atop a shriek-like roar, angry flames exiting through its conical end. For a moment, I could almost liken it to the fiery insides of a dragon¡¯s throat. It was only after the roar of its fire was over did Emma materialize a series of static images, each of which were of¡­ questionable quality ¡ª black and white splotches with barely any visual cues or landmarks by which to identify them. ¡°1946. Forty-three years after our first flight. The white sands missile range, New Mexico. The launch of yet another man-made object into space, but this time¡­ it had memory-shards, albeit primitive ones by today¡¯s standards.¡± All three of us took steps towards these floating images, of what appeared to be¡ª
Thalmin A dark sky, and¡­ something resembling a grainy soupy-mess of a terrain as seen from above. This¡­ wasn¡¯t what I at all expected. Moreover, this wasn¡¯t what I wanted. Throughout it all, the growth of these firespears beckoned a disconcerting question that grew to rival Emma¡¯s claims of breaching the tapestry. This was because if her claims were to be believed, if these firespears of immense size were truly controllable, then they could serve not only as toys nor tools of exploration. But tools of war.
Ilunor The image made no sense. Nor did I try to make sense of it. It was merely a dark sky and some indistinguishable blur. There was nothing to be garnered from this. The tapestry had yet to have been torn. This was an exercise in futility. This¡­ had to be. What else could this be but¡ª
Thacea ¡ªthe curvature of a realm. This was¡­ the curvature of a realm. Tales from high-soaring flocks have consistently reported seeing a curve to our world, even after the Nexian Reformations. It was just an undeniable part of reality. And yet this¡­ was fundamentally different. The curvature was far, far too pronounced. The result of flying higher than even the high-soarers, of ascending far beyond the flight-limit, which meant that this image, this shard, could¡¯ve only been captured at heights beyond the tapestry. ¡°I know you probably still don¡¯t believe me.¡± Emma continued. ¡°So let¡¯s skip a few years so we can get a better view~¡± The scene once more shifted, still in the desert, but with a wildly different firespear. For this one was¡­ much more refined. It was spindly, tall, yet smaller than what clearly was ahead. Its launch soon followed, violently careening off of its metal brackets with a loud and feather-puffing SHRRRRK! All three of us watched as it pierced through the skies faster and more aggressively than the previous firespear, disappearing even quicker from view. ¡°1954. Fifty-one years after our first flight. The Aerobee. Nothing too exciting about it, except that on a few of its missions, it managed to snap enough images for us to form a photomosaic of this~¡± Emma paused, revealing an image that prompted my eyes to grow wide. Gone was the grainy black and white image. In its place was a color-image of¡ª ¡°Is that¡­ part of a globe?¡± Thalmin uttered under a shaky breath. ¡°How¡­ where was that taken?¡± ¡°That has to be manufactured.¡± Ilunor suddenly managed out. ¡°Globes of adjacent realms are made through careful cartography and assembled through countless hours of¡ª¡± ¡°This wasn¡¯t a work of cartography drawn from the surface or even from the sky Ilunor.¡± Emma interjected. ¡°This¡­ was taken high above the clouds, high above a realm, so high that you can actually see massive chunks of a realm from above.¡± ¡°This image was captured¡­ from beyond the tapestry.¡± I managed out under a hushed breath. ¡°Impossible, princess.¡± Ilunor shot back violently, his eyes growing wide with a hastening incredulity. ¡°I expected better from you. You, a master of deciphering truth from lies! This¡­ this is nothing but a¡­ cleverly, well-crafted, and admittedly impressive work of cartographic expertise that posits a highly-detailed globe as seen from an otherwise impossible vantage point¡ª¡± ¡°Ilunor.¡± Emma interjected, her tone retreating from that teasing, almost boastful cadence, to something more grounded and severe. ¡°I¡¯d be remiss if I didn¡¯t address this before we continued.¡± The earthrealmer breathed in deeply, as if readying herself for a heated back and forth. ¡°Exactly what is the issue¡ª¡±
Ilunor ¡°The tapestry cannot be breached.¡± I interjected plainly. ¡°Not by aethraships nor by firespears, nor by mages of strength and skill beneath that of true planar laureates.¡± I continued without hesitation¡­ yet garnered nothing but the infuriatingly expressionless glare of the earthrealmer¡¯s mask in return. I awaited a long-winded retort, an answer befitting of her seemingly limitless coffer of words. I anticipated a noble¡¯s vault''s worth of justifications. Yet I received a paltry commoner¡¯s ration of syllables. ¡°Why?¡± This¡­ lit the flame welling within my throat, streams of smoke emanating from my nostrils momentarily disrupting this manaless illusion, breaking up the phantom-like streams of light that made up this impossible world. Reminding me, if only for a moment, that this illusion¡­ was in and of itself, an extension of the impossibilities it purveyed. ¡°Why?¡± I mimicked using an exaggerated caricature of the earthrealmer¡¯s inflections. ¡°Why?!¡± I guffawed, shaking my head in the process. ¡°Is it not apparent, earthrealmer?! It is because the tapestry is for all intents and purposes impermeable!¡± I took a deep breath, the billowing smoke casting an eerie shadow over the manaless projection. ¡°Then let me ask you this, Ilunor. Is it impermeable because of some inherent physical property¡­ or is it impermeable as a result of some innate magical property.¡± The earthrealmer responded cautiously. This question ¡ª blunt and seemingly straightforward at first ¡ª quickly put into question my entire frame of reference. I paused, taking a moment to observe the ¡®sights¡¯ and sounds around me, at the dead and desolate wastes dotted with manaless constructs operating within a manaless world. And then it dawned on me. Earthrealm¡­ had naught the mana to breathe contemporary life, nor did it have the mana through which the tapestry could maintain its natural connection to the transportium. I rapidly shifted my gaze now, my eyes landing on that of the lupinor and avinor, my mind parsing through every available iota of knowledge I had on the lesser natural phenomenon of the adjacent realms. ¡°What are you looking at me for, Iluno¡ª¡± ¡°Shush!¡± I silenced the lupinor, instead shifting my focus towards Thacea. ¡°Your realm has nothing I am interested in.¡± I quickly justified, the lupinor¡¯s features contorting into one of both confusion and incredulity. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to¡ª¡± ¡°Princess.¡± I began, silencing the lupinor in the process. ¡°Your kind has produced a great many powerful mages, not to mention natural flyers.¡± ¡°You flatter me, Iluno¡ª¡± ¡°I must admit that my¡­ ahem¡­ disinterest in the fundamentals of adjacent realm physiography leaves me with a simple yet foregone question ¡ª have you or have you not been able to leave the confines of your tapestry?¡± ¡°Not to my knowledge, Ilunor.¡± The princess responded curtly. ¡°As expected.¡± I began with a cursory nod. ¡°I understand that adjacent realms, especially younger realms, have a¡­ lesser-transportium network. I take it that attempts to reach the tapestry do not result in a natural induction into said network?¡± ¡°That is correct.¡± ¡°Then what barriers have you observed?¡± I continued with growing urgency. ¡°I presume your kind have been inclined to reach said tapestry, as is the inclination of many a young and foolish race. What prevented you from ascending higher, if not for the transportium induction phenomenon?¡± ¡°Power.¡± The princess responded succinctly¡­ in synchrony with Emma. This impromptu duet prompted the pair to turn towards each other, if only for a moment. With a nod of acquiescence from the earthrealmer, the princess continued. ¡°We have observed, as many other realms have, that there exists a¡­ functional impasse through which no amount of power ¡ª magical or otherwise ¡ª can successfully breach.¡± ¡°And those planar mages with the talent to do so¡­ those who remain on Aetheronrealm anyways¡­ would reach an impasse similar to many others ¡ª the lack of ambient mana with which to breach the tapestry.¡± I quickly added, my mind running through these disparate points one after another. ¡°All of this is to say that without relying on mana, earthrealmers have found a violently novel solution to pierce the tapestry.¡± Thacea concluded through a poignant smile. ¡°As without a transportium to induct them, nor mana to limit them, it would seem as if the raw power of manaless combustion itself was enough to get them through the tapestry.¡± The princess¡¯ latter statement gave me pause for thought, as I turned towards the earthrealmer with an expectant gaze. There was still, after all, a major point of contention which these images have failed to address. A glaring error in which my victory may still be assured. One that the lupinor prince himself seemed to acknowledge through wary eyes. ¡°You make¡­ convincing arguments, earthrealmer.¡± I began tentatively. ¡°But your attempts to undermine my belief in known reality fall short in one very blatant detail.¡± ¡°And what might that be, Ilunor?¡± ¡°If you truly have breached the tapestry¡­ then where is the endless glowing expanse that is the primavale?¡± I smiled brightly, pointing to the crude image, or more specifically¡­ the darkness surrounding the globe. ¡°If you truly have gone above that which envelopes your globe, then where is the ceaseless bright that lies beyond? If you truly have entered the realm that only planar mages have, then where is it?!¡± The earthrealmer paused, unable to respond, as if ready to admit to this undeniable breach in fundamental logic. ¡°Ilunor. I¡¯m going to be blunt here for a moment. I understand that there may be fundamentally different natural forces at play here between our realms. The primavale beyond the tapestry may in fact exist in the Nexus. I for one am willing to entertain such a notion. However, where I come from? The skies aren¡¯t the limit. Indeed, there really isn¡¯t even a tapestry to breach. What lies beyond the flight limit of conventional planes is just¡­ nothing. Or rather, a big empty expanse of vacuum. A void in which our globe floats. An emptiness where there exists no land, water, or even air. A true vacuum that stretches on for literally millions upon billions of miles in every direction. That is what lies beyond our ¡®tapestry¡¯, or rather, our skies. And that is what we found when we finally breached it.¡± My eyes remained transfixed on the inky darkness of that image as Emma spoke. However, no sooner did she finish did we find ourselves thrust into an entirely new scene. One which preempted my responses through the unveiling of the next firespear ¡ª a squat, disproportionate, inelegant-looking dart-of-a-craft. Painted in refuse-green and adorned with a symbol consisting of a hammer and sickle; the symbols of peasants. The color combination repulsed me. The inelegant design proved to be even more of a revolting sight. The four protruding extensions of the central spire were far too large, far too bulky, especially when considering the squat, almost laughably short conical structure it was beholden to. This was not even mentioning the utilitarian plinth it sat atop of. The tower sat there, its umbilicals bellowing heavy smoke which gathered at its base, condensing into plumes of thick white-grey fog that obscured much of the platform. Then came a series of obnoxious bell tolls, beeping second by second until finally¡ª ¡°1957. The launch of the R-7 Sputnik PS, carrying atop it a payload of the same name. One which would come to redefine our relationship with the void which hangs above.¡± Emma began, her voice barely making it through the terrifyingly loud explosions that thrummed throughout the sight-seer. I watched in discontented awe as the four massive metal clamps chaining this behemoth to the plinth finally let go, and as this watchtower-tall giant of iron and steel took to the skies; bathing everything behind it in the raw fury of this manaless facsimile of dragon flame. Part of me wasn¡¯t at all impressed. But that part of me was very much still bound to crownlands expectations. It hadn¡¯t yet registered that this really was a purely manaless endeavor. It still, in some vain attempt at holding my disbelief together, considered this to be magical. But I suppressed that for now. The logic behind this oversized firespear¡­ was understandable. As such, I continued watching, my eyes narrowing as I saw what appeared to be a point of critical failure for the would-be tapestry-breacher. In a spectacular display of comical self-destruction those visually offensive side-towers detached in one fell swoop, spinning and tumbling wildly in mid-air, creating an almost cross-shaped pattern as it fell back down to earth. ¡°Heh. So this truly does take after the shimmerstars it so wishes to mimic.¡± I managed out under a derisive breath. ¡°That was intentional, Ilunor.¡± The earthrealmer argued. To which my eyes immediately narrowed as a chuckle soon followed. ¡°That? Intentional?!¡± I chastised. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°What purpose does losing major elements of your craft possibly have¡ª¡± ¡°Staging. To put it simply, Ilunor, the higher up you want to go, the more fuel you need to use to get up there. More fuel means more systems and storage mediums to carry it in, meaning more weight needed to take into consideration¡ª¡± ¡°Which means more fuel is required to compensate for the weight, which means more weight¡­¡± Thalmin pondered aloud, the earthrealmer nodding in acknowledgement at his observations. ¡°This creates a problem where reaching the void in a practical and efficient manner becomes a near-impossible task. That is, unless you divide up the flight into different stages.¡± The earthrealmer continued, bringing us unnaturally closer towards this firespear, at the key point where its four accessory components were discarded. ¡°This way, you can shed dead weight as you go, using as much fuel as you need for each stage, and ensuring that you need less fuel to burn for each successive stage as the craft becomes ¡®smaller¡¯ and ¡®lighter¡¯ as it were.¡± The scene continued, as soon too did this now disproportionately long and spindly body began breaking up, leaving only its conical tip to lazily meander upwards and its spire to spiral back down towards the ground below. At which point¡­ did I finally notice it. The curvature of the globe. Set against not any glowing seas of endless energy¡­ but instead¡­ nothingness. The void, as Emma was so insistent on calling it. It was at that moment, following this ludicrous explanation, of some of the most outlandish proclamations¡­ did it all finally make sense. Earthrealm¡­ was a dead realm. A manaless realm that through some abominable stroke of happenstance spawned life. It stood to reason then, that in such a realm, with no mana to speak of¡­ that the primavale may simply not exist. That the rich expanse of infinite possibilities, of pure fullness and energy, was simply nonexistent here. Instead, there was only darkness. Darkness and emptiness. Absolute nothingness. It made sense now. It all made sense. ¡°You are the children of a dead realm.¡± I managed out, interrupting Emma¡¯s long-winded explanation of the chrome metal ball that had since emerged from the conical head of the broken-apart firespear. ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°I¡­ did not even notice the wispy darkness or blueness of your tapestry. Nor was there any¡­ tear as we made our way past what should have been a clearly-defined boundary. It was brilliant blue in one moment, and in the next, a gradual gradient towards black.¡± I described, laying my observations out to bare. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m following here¡ª¡± ¡°You have neither a tapestry nor a primavale. Your realm¡­ floats amidst nothingness. Your people¡­ are born from nothing. And now¡­ you seek to return to the nothingness which surrounds you.¡± I took a deep breath, my eyes transfixed not only on that metal ball, but the globe it now hovered above. ¡°Why? What about this dead nothingness draws you to expend ludicrous time, effort, and resources on attaining access to it?!¡± ¡°The stars, Ilunor.¡± The earthrealmer responded frustratingly calmly. ¡°The stars and more significantly, the other realms which float amidst this same nothingness.¡± She pointed at a distant body, one which the sight-seer helpfully highlighted.
Thalmin ¡°The moon is a realm?!¡± Chapter 114: One Small Step Thalmin The moon¡­ was a great many things to many different people. To the old believers, it was the metaphysical embodiment of the ancestral plane, caught in an eternal battle between light and dark. To the Nexus, it was an adjacent realm¡¯s sole connection to the primavale ¡ª an umbilical through which matter and mana alike were drip-fed in an eternal cycle of death and rebirth. Whilst many bickered and argued over the minor and insignificant details of its nature, no one ¡ª not a single soul ¡ª had ever made the claim that it was in any way shape or form another realm. A ¡®realm¡¯ for departed ancestors in the metaphysical context? Yes. But a tangible realm of rock and stone? No. Such ramblings belonged to the crazed sermons of the village idiot, or the town fool. Substantiated only by the many revelations one could find at the bottom of a tankard of ale. And yet here I was. A prince. Of sound mind and steady mettle. Actively considering the same ramblings, but with the pensiveness one would have to an oracle¡¯s preachings. ¡°Yes.¡± Emma replied confidently and with not an ounce of hesitation. ¡°Or at least, in my reality it is. I¡¯m not too sure about the Nexus. But here? Not only is the moon an entirely distinct realm, but every point in the night sky could also be considered a realm unto its own.¡± I did not know what to feel following that revelation. I didn¡¯t even know how to take that statement. Which, in any other situation¡­ would¡¯ve simply been a confirmation of one¡¯s fractured mental state. Questions abounded, alongside feelings, all of which tore at what I knew ¡ª or what I thought I knew. My mind bounded to fill the gaps of this new paradigm. One that I knew was impossible¡­ but that I rationalized as possible, not only out of Emma¡¯s impossible proofs, but likewise out of Ilunor¡¯s rationale. Earthrealm¡­ was a dead realm. And this meant that anything was possible, given nothing was known of such a fundamentally broken place; of such a fundamentally¡­ eerie and empty space. My curiosity reached for questions I didn¡¯t even have words for. However, my focus eventually landed on a simple, tangible demand. One which I directed towards the reality-defying entity I called a friend. ¡°Show me, then.¡± I announced tersely. ¡°Show me this realm which floats amidst dead space, and show us the journey through which you established once and for all¡­ that the moon¡­ is in fact, a realm.¡± This ultimatum, which I assumed to be well received beneath the earthrealmer¡¯s faceplate, likewise brought about an expression that I¡¯d rarely seen on the princess thus far. A look of restrained, yet visible, excitement. This stood in stark contrast to the Vunerian, who slunk further and further into abject dread. I¡­ knew not which camp to fall under. For even in my most optimistic of projections did I find myself uneasy at the prospects of a prophecy made true ¡ª of the existence of a power that could truly attain the same heights as the Nexus. Even if that power was as benevolent as Emma was intent on portraying. ¡°The journey, huh?¡± Emma spoke under a lackadaisical tone of voice. ¡°That¡¯s actually a great idea~¡± She continued, turning towards me with a slight skip in her step. An action completely contrary to the enigmatic world she belonged to. The scene, expectedly, shifted once more. Away from the chrome ball and its incessant beeping. Away from the gut-churning nothingness of the void beyond the nonexistent tapestry. Far beneath the blue skies, and once more on solid earth. More than that, we were once more thrust back towards the vast expansive steppes in which this ¡®launch site¡¯ was situated. One which seemed to be busier than it was in the previous firespear launch, with phantom humans donning grey and green uniforms bearing the sigil of peasants, interspersed between more humans carrying boxy equipment all aimed towards this new idol of their devotion. Gone was the squat form of the previous firespear. In its place, was a taller, much more imposing monolith. One which finally lived up to its moniker of ¡®tower¡¯. Though similar to its predecessor, it remained precariously shackled to the earth, with four arms of heavy steel and a tower of metal scaffolding seemingly bracing it from ascending prematurely. ¡°Every mission you''ve seen up to this point in time has been unmanned.¡± Emma began confidently, before sheepishly correcting herself with a quick aside. ¡°With the exception of Wan Hu, none have since attempted to reach the stars atop of these oversized firespears.¡± She continued, as she gestured towards a procession of vehicles, and a stream of humans who promptly entered a manaless ascender. ¡°But all that changes today. As on this day, barely 58 years since we first took to the skies, do we now aim to shoot beyond it. To prove, once and for all, that man can and will pierce the heavens. To boldly go, in spite of the dangers, in spite of the risks, and even in spite of our destination¡¯s inhospitality to all earthly life¡­¡± Emma paused abruptly, her voice stuttering in a rare moment of inexplicable thought. ¡°All to see what lies beyond the next horizon.¡± Immediately following this did several figures emerge from the ascender, all crowding around an oddly-dressed human in a baggy and ill-fitting bright orange bodysuit. ¡°Because there will always be those amidst our ranks ready to put it all on the line. Those who would dare to push the boundaries, to answer the call of that most captivating of human callings ¡ª the need for exploration. To be, and spirits forbid¡­ to die a pioneer.¡± Foolishness. I could hear my uncle responding, his voice echoing throughout the proving dens, loud enough to pierce through the rumbling of otherworldly machines and the sharp clanking of metal as the orange-suited human entered what looked to be a coffin. Brazenness for brazenness sakes, all for selfish ends. Selflessness and sacrifice with only the vaguest of callings is a waste to both clan and kin. A death should serve a tangible gain, not a vague ideal or ephemeral calling. ¡°But when brazenness is shared amongst an entire people, to the point where all are willing to share in the cost and effort of fulfilling such a ¡®foolish¡¯ notion, is it at that point madness or brilliance?¡± I muttered to myself under a hushed breath, my focus fixated on the calmness of it all. In spite of knowing that what might come next could spell disaster.
Thacea 58 years¡­ barely a generation following their tentative grasp of flight¡­ and here they were, seemingly unsatisfied with what should have been the greatest achievement of a landed flock. I thought to myself, as ceremonies and pleasantries abounded before the suited human was promptly sealed within his metal coffin ¡ª a cramped space that looked more akin to a torture chamber than a vehicle. The scene quickly shifted as we followed the descent of the remaining humans back towards the gathered crowd, and were once again treated to the sight of the firespear to its fullest extent. However, unlike every other firespear launch thus far, there existed a gnawing, uncomfortable feeling welling up within me. A feeling which only intensified as I watched this tower standing idly in a thick swirling fog of its own breath. A discomfort¡­ born of the knowledge that unlike all prior launches ¡ª that this was no longer an oversized toy ¡ª but a vehicle. As atop of it wasn¡¯t a strange chrome ball, nor a memory shard, or even nothing at all. No. Atop of it now, nearly twenty stories above the ground, was a sapient being. A person¡­ who was knowingly putting himself atop of a tower of fire and flame. All with the faintest of hopes of surviving a journey into an equally unwelcoming and hostile void. Sanity no longer applied. I thought to myself. For how could someone sane risk assured death¡ª And then it clicked. My eyes shifted sharply towards the prideful earthrealmer, who stood there explaining every excruciating detail behind this event. A narrative quickly formed, as prior conversations now locked into place, and a renewed understanding of both Emma and her people manifested within my mind. ¡°You could say we have a habit of making ourselves welcome in the most inhospitable of places. As just like those that have come before me, I now find myself exploring a reality that isn¡¯t just inhospitable, but actively hostile to my very being.¡± I didn¡¯t have to look any further to see this very brazenness in action. As every waking second of Emma¡¯s life was in and of itself, a testament to this same propensity for risk-taking taken to its ludicrous extreme. And yet she manages to persist, in spite of the knowledge, the understanding¡­ that one small misstep could mean assured death. My mind raced, recalling stories of avinor harboring similar dispositions. Stories of great explorers and intrepid pioneers, each risking wing and talon to explore the expanse of our globe. Stories¡­ whose themes felt so distant and ephemeral ¡ª incompatible within a post-Nexian reformation world. Even if it was once our history. But here? That spirit felt alive. That sentiment, felt vicariously, through a completely foreign people. Not only in the sight-seer that was rapidly approaching its climax, but also through the entity presenting it who I had taken a kinship to. ¡°¡ªhis name was then-Senior Lieutenant Yuri Gagarin.¡± The earthrealmer¡¯s voice finally came through, amidst my own thoughts that seemed louder than they ever had been. ¡°And on this day, did he fulfil the hopes of dreamers and pioneers stretching back millennia.¡± THWWWOOOSHHHHHHH! Came the cacophonous rumbling of the firespear¡¯s flame, as massive streams of fire erupted from beneath the tower, bathing the plinth and the empty space beneath it in the raw and unbridled fury of a dragon¡¯s scornful wrath. So loud was the continuous thrum of explosions that the release of its four massive anchors barely registered. Slowly did the tower rise, ascending against all known conventions, defying leypull with the fury of a dauntless people. A people who, by all conventional wisdom, shouldn¡¯t have ever attained speeds beyond that of a tamed beast of burden. And yet here they were. Riding atop of the power of tamed explosions. The scene shifted once more, now split into three. To our left was the compound, and the humans who now looked onwards towards the skies. To our middle was the trailing perspective of the craft itself, triggering notes of exhilaration and nausea in equal measures. And finally, to our right, was a sight from within the coffin itself, showing a man seemingly helpless atop of a tomb of his kin¡¯s own making. I watched on with inextricable focus, my eyes monitoring the man¡¯s movements under the strains that would naturally come from such immense speeds. ¡°What speeds must he tolerate to breach the skies, Emma?¡± I finally inquired, watching on as the skies began to inexplicably¡­ thin. ¡°Just under five miles¡­¡± Emma paused, as if purposefully teasingly. ¡°Per second.¡± It took me a moment to register that in relative terms I could visually conceive of. But once I did¡­ I was once more left dumbfounded. The same could be said for Thalmin and Ilunor, as silence dominated most of the journey up, with the firespear going through the same motions as its predecessor, segmenting and separating, until all that was left was an odd-looking spheroid object sat atop of a brown cylinder I¡¯d hazard to even call an enclosure, let alone a vehicle. It was at this point however, did the right-most image come to dominate our view. As we looked on, from the perspective of the cramped and unseemly cockpit, towards a porthole that displayed not just endless skies or clouds¡­ but the skies¡­ as seen from the perspective of an Old God. The skies¡­ as seen from above. Not within. And certainly not below. But above. The former sight-seers had been clearer about this. But to see it from the perspective of a human, a manaless being with little individual capacity other than a thinking mind and two dexterous hands, was beyond breathtaking. ¡°This undertaking wouldn¡¯t have been possible without everyone back home too.¡± Emma interrupted abruptly, displaying once more, the rows upon rows of conservatively-dressed featureless phantoms crowding behind machines of blinking lights and tables with papers strewn-about. ¡°And not just the thinkers, but the builders and everyone else responsible for actually constructing everything it took to reach this point.¡± She continued, quickly showing sights familiar to me from our very first night together ¡ª metal foundries, and immense forges of impossible size and scale.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. At least, impossible for a newrealmer. ¡°Alone, you may not be capable of much.¡± Thalmin began, taking all of us by surprise. ¡°A sole human, seems to only be capable of lofty ambitions and admittedly persuasive words. But it takes a village, a town, a city and an entire kingdom, to achieve those dreams.¡± ¡°Well-said, Thalmin. Moreover, it¡¯s another thing entirely as well, to mobilize the political will and economic capital to achieve said ends.¡± Emma acknowledged, as we watched as the craft continued on its lonely voyage through nothing. A few more moments of silence passed before the craft began firing its ¡®engines¡¯ to seemingly no effect. Though its ineffectualness was misleading, as it indeed began its descent, reentering the skies where it attempted to shear apart its lower cylindrical segment, only to find itself tethered by a flimsy set of umbilicals that Emma explained as ¡®unplanned, but thankfully, self-resolving¡¯. The umbilicals eventually tore apart, leaving only its chrome orb to descend further, before a sharp explosion marked the expulsion of none other than its occupant ¡ª the man now floating precariously back down to the surface with the aid of a parachute attached to his seat. Following which, moments after his landing, did he approach two more humans before Thalmin followed up with a question I hadn¡¯t anticipated. ¡°Emma.¡± ¡°Yes, Thalmin?¡± ¡°I¡¯m assuming¡­ from what we saw beyond the skies, that the man didn¡¯t just enter the void, only to return, like a stone thrown straight upwards?¡± ¡°Nope! He actually orbited the globe, circling it from above, once!¡± Emma announced with glee. ¡°And your world¡­ it is not small, is it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just under twenty-five thousand miles in circumference, but I¡¯m not sure how that stacks to most realms¡ª¡± ¡°Puny for the Nexus.¡± Ilunor finally re-entered the conversation. ¡°But average for an adjacent realm.¡± I countered. ¡°And how long did it take for this man to circumnavigate your globe from beyond the skies?¡± Thalmin pressed onwards, unbothered by either of our responses. ¡°A hundred-and-eight minutes. So, just under two hours!¡± Emma responded gleefully once more. Though strangely, the lupinor didn¡¯t seem to share in this same joyous and boisterous of attitudes.
Thalmin One hour¡­ and forty-eight minutes. Five miles per second. I didn¡¯t need the scholarly acumen of my sisters to understand the implications of such numbers. For the practical, and most importantly the martial implications, behind such capabilities wasn¡¯t just impressive. It was frightening. To be able to ascend into the void, only to drop right back down from the skies, was a crude but horrifying mirror to the Nexus¡¯ instantaneous teleportation. My mind was now filled to the brim with the sheer number of possibilities brought about by such a novel vehicle. From the deployment of whole battalions, all dropping from the skies. To the delivery of weapons. Weapons similar in destructive potential to the explosive power of Emma¡¯s crate. Weapons¡­ perhaps even more powerful than that. Just under two hours ¡ª for a kingdom to be able to strike anywhere on a planet with impunity. Barely a town cryer¡¯s second gallop ¡ª for a ruler to deploy his forces, his armies, his soldiers and his weapons of destruction ¡ª to rain hellfire if need be. And this was merely fifty-eight years following their first flight into the skies.
Ilunor ¡°And I assume your initial successes led to even greater and greater accomplishments without one inkling of failure, hmm?¡± I countered, observing, analyzing, digging into every available crack and crevice in this rose-tinted look into the earthrealmer¡¯s past. ¡°Not at all, Ilunor.¡± The suited figure admitted. ¡°If anything, close calls were more common than clean missions. And more than that, I¡¯d be remiss if I didn¡¯t acknowledge the lives lost over our race for the stars.¡± What appeared to be a list of names manifested in front of us, alongside sight-seers of firespears either exploding upon their plinths, or breaking apart in mid-air. The sights of which put the warehouse explosion to shame, giving even the usually stoic Thalmin pause for thought. Throughout the scrolling of names, Emma stood still, announcing out of some respect for her ancestors a moment of silence. ¡°This is the least I can do to honor their sacrifices. To never forget the human cost of progress.¡± Was her reasoning, which could¡¯ve just as easily been misconstrued as some misguided form of reverence. ¡°We don¡¯t claim to be perfect, Ilunor. If anything, I¡¯ve shown you just how many setbacks and tragedies we did have prior to this point. And while the causes of these tragic losses ranged from inexplicable malfunctions to gross negligence of those in charge, to even design flaws and oversights ¡ª we continued to press onwards. Some of us learned from our mistakes, and some of us not so much. But in any case, I¡­ believe we should move forwards towards our original question, starting first with the fulfilment of Thalmin¡¯s request.¡±
Thalmin Just as quickly as my concerns over Emma¡¯s people were reaching its precipice, was I placated by an unexpected source ¡ª her honorable decision to respect her ancestors¡¯ sacrifices through action. An action which may not entirely define her leaders, but demonstrated at the very least, a strong sense of moral character in the candidate they chose to represent them. Following which, we were once again thrust into another locale. However, unlike the vast steppes of the prior location, we were instead brought to a tropical idyllic beach, with lush and verdant greenery interspersed between commanding and imposing buildings. Gone was the hammer and sickle that dominated much of the prior location¡¯s structures and people. Instead, it was replaced by two banners. One bearing some strange house sigil of a blue orb with two sloppily drawn squiggles interrupting its interior, complete with four foreign letters that more than likely belonged to some upstart house too insecure to rely on symbology alone to represent their clan. Next, was a far more novel but simple banner, consisting of a series of red and white stripes complete with a canton of some fifty or so stars at its upper left hand corner. Together, I likened this to be some writ between house and kingdom, some industrious endeavor. Regardless, I watched as Emma positioned us by the single largest building within this compound. A towering monolith in and of itself, with doors that seemed better suited for the mythical giants of old, rather than any living mortal. These doors, slowly and with great effort, opened up to reveal a massive room with an interior dominated by a complicated mess of metal pipes and bracings, with hundreds of phantom humans sporting overalls and white-coats, all crowding around elevated platforms behind what was first shown to us at the beginning of the museum of firespears. One of the single most tallest and elegant-looking firespears of all. One that stretched higher up than the tallest building in Havenbrock. One that could easily rival the inner-ring steeples within the Isle of Towers, and perhaps even the outer-ring of the Nexus¡¯ crownlands. What Emma would promptly refer to as¡ª ¡°The Saturn V rocket.¡± She beamed proudly. This immense monolith slowly began its crawl towards its plinth, atop of a tracked vehicle that moved slower than Prince Talnin¡¯s laziest crawls. The sight seer took this opportunity to position us close by, as Emma began gesturing at the behemoth that we strained upwards to look at. ¡°The most powerful rocket of its century, with a thrust capacity ten times that of the firespear that took Yuri Gagarin to space.¡± Emma paused, gesturing towards its lower segment, as the sight-seer took us towards what looked to be massive conical shafts. ¡°Powered by five massive F-1 engines, each individually larger than the V-2s I showed earlier.¡± I stared blankly, my eyes attempting to bring about some rhyme and reason to the magnitude of these¡­ engines. More than that, Emma was quick to provide a cutaway of the interior of the first ¡®section¡¯ of the tower, revealing that within it wasn¡¯t cargo or passengers, but once again ¡ª fuel. Combustible liquids stored as high up as a 12-story building, fueling ¡®engines¡¯ the size of a rural commoner¡¯s hut. I didn¡¯t speak. Not even as Emma went further up the ¡®stack¡¯, towards the ¡®second¡¯ section of the massive tower, with fuel and engines only marginally smaller than the ¡®first¡¯ section; a seven-story height fueling carriage-sized engines. The ludicrousness of this entire display was too much to bear. But that was when the tone of the sight-seer took an unexpected turn. As we were taken away from the verdant grasses and idyllic beaches of this compound, and instead, thrust towards a manufactorium. The sight-seer physically moving to cross the distances involved this time around, as if to emphasize the sheer scale of this undertaking. ¡°This wasn¡¯t just the work of a single individual, or even a group of individuals.¡± Emma began, as we moved, manufactorium to manufactorium, each assembling either unrecognizable parts or the staple features of the monolith we¡¯d just witnessed. ¡°This was an undertaking that took a nation to build. With experts from countless industries, and cooperation between rival companies, all in order to build the behemoth that was the Saturn V, plate by plate, and bolt by bolt.¡± We criss-crossed what appeared to be an expansive continent, crossing through grassy steppes, snowy mountains, great canyons, and through rivers and settlements of all shapes and sizes¡­ visiting not only manufactoriums now, but scholarly offices, Nexian-sized forges, and places I couldn¡¯t even put into words. All of this, across paved roads and ¡®rail¡¯ spanning a continent. We eventually found ourselves back at the beach-side compound, now positioned amidst a crowd gathered a fair distance away from the firespear itself. The crowds, similar to Gagarin¡¯s launch into the void, carried with them boxes and tools of all sorts, all pointed towards the firespear. ¡°A million eyes were trained on the launch site that day, and tens of millions more through the memory shards delivering live images of the launch to people from around the globe.¡± Emma began, as picture upon picture emerged across the sight-seer. ¡°I¡¯m showing you a live feed of everything happening concurrently that day. From the three astronauts ¡ª Armstrong, Collins, and Aldrin ¡ª making their way up to the command module.¡± Emma paused, showing the three men in question in suits of white and rounded glass helmets, as they approached their tomb-like enclosure. ¡°To mission control and the hundreds of people working around the clock to ensure the complex systems needed for such an endeavor worked as intended.¡± Another picture emerged, displaying a room of row upon row of machines, and the phantom-like humans behind them. ¡°To the various technicians, engineers, and support staff all working tirelessly until the very last minute.¡± Tens more images emerged, of hundreds of humans toiling about various inexplicable tasks, all at the service of this cathedral of iron and steel. However just as all of these concurrent images appeared, did they quickly fade as the sight-seer once more leveled its sights not too far from the plinth, amidst the crowd of onlookers. Following which, did foreign words under a muffled filter begin what I assumed to be a countdown. ¡°T-Minus fifteen seconds, guidance is internal¡­ eleven¡­ ten.. nine.¡± As second, after second, did my heart beat to the tune of this moment. ¡°Ignition sequence starts.¡± A moment marked by an explosion that put all others to shame. ¡°Six, five, four, three, two, one, zero, all engines running.¡± As flames and ferocious smoke swept beneath the plinth, only to erupt back up towards the towering behemoth. Fire burned ferociously beneath the tower, as smoke continued to rise. For a moment, I feared the worst as the sights and sounds of failed missions flashed across my mind. However, only a second after that thought, did the tower begin to rise. ¡°Liftoff, we have liftoff! Thirty-two minutes past the hour. Liftoff of Apollo 11.¡± I watched¡­ as forty-stories worth of iron and steel lifted off of its plinth, rising faster and faster and in such a way that one could easily forget that this object, this¡­ craft, wasn¡¯t ever supposed to take flight. THRRRWWWOOOSHHMMMMMM!!! But fly it did, as it ascended, its engines, its metal, pulsing, as if gasping and breathing. Throughout it all, as the seconds turned into minutes, and as the craft made it through that invisible layer between the skies and the void, Emma remained silent. Simply allowing the various muffled and filtered voices of humans long since dead to speak on her behalf. Not a single voice sounded the least bit panicked. Even excitement itself felt difficult to discern. As every single person seemed uncharacteristically calm. Calm¡­ whilst riding atop of a continuous stream of unending flame. Nobody else spoke, or dared interrupt the pioneers as they left the confines of the skies, eschewing tower after towering ¡®sections¡¯, leaving barely a stump by the time they¡¯d entered the void proper. It was only after the last section remained floating listlessly, did Thacea finally speak.
Thacea ¡°Emma?¡± ¡°Yes, Thacea?¡± ¡°How large is your moon?¡± ¡°Just under sixty-eight-hundred miles in circumference, give or take. About a quarter the size of our planet, for scale.¡± My mind ceased, if only for a moment, as the leypull of the situation once more dawned on me. My suspicions¡­ were proven true. Whether for better or for worse. And given Emma¡¯s lack of a followup response, it was clear that she understood exactly what sorts of thoughts had since entered my mind. ¡°What is all this fuss about the size of these hypothetical realms, princess?¡± Ilunor interrupted, his voice as terse as it was uneasy. ¡°It¡¯s a matter of distance and perspective, Ilunor.¡± I replied simply, garnering a look of confusion from the man. ¡°If the moon truly is a realm of such dimensions, for it to be as small as it is in the night sky, implies that the distances involved are nothing short of¡­¡± ¡°Astronomical, yeah.¡± Emma interjected with a prideful acknowledgement. ¡°Exactly how far away is the moon, Emma?¡± Thalmin interrupted, his features stoic, masking the uneasy undercurrents just beneath the surface. ¡°Just under two-hundred and thirty-nine thousand miles.¡± Emma announced plainly, simply, and without hesitation. ¡°How long did it take¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, if you¡¯re concerned about us staying here for days on end, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m just about to skip to the good stuff in fact. But if you¡¯re wondering about specifics? It took just about 4 days to reach the moon, at a cruising speed of about 4223 feet per second.¡± My beak hung agape, as my eyes were transfixed on the vast empty darkness that dominated this¡­ space between realms. Whilst other realms were divided by the fabric of reality itself. Earthrealm¡­ was removed from its contemporaries, by sheer distance. Impossible distances. Yet distances that were once again breached not by solutions that bridged the gap, but by the brute-forcing of the most obvious of solutions, that should not have been practical. And so it was, that in this sea of absolute nothing, did this craft barely the size of a small house, approach its final destination. The moon.
Thalmin The journey had been accelerated, all for the sake of practicality. However, as I watched the moon grow closer, expanding to encompass my field of vision¡­ I was met with a throat-clenching impasse. This¡­ ethereal place¡­ shouldn¡¯t have existed. This realm of ancestors and mana, of primavalic energies and intangible light, shouldn¡¯t have been reachable. It shouldn¡¯t be tangible. I watched in disbelief as this cumbersome craft of steel made its awkward descent towards the surface of what was once just a dot in the sky. I watched¡­ as those flimsy legs made contact with white rock and stone. ¡°Houston, tranquility base here. The eagle has landed.¡± I listened, as the voices of humans rang out within an infinite dark, atop of a realm that wasn¡¯t theirs. I grappled with the reality of the situation¡­ as best as I could. The reality that I had to remind myself, was in fact possible, owing to the existence of a dead realm. More time flew by now, as images from within the cabin showed these pioneers preparing for the ultimate ends of this mission. It showed, following some awkward shuffling in exiting the craft, one of these ¡®astronauts¡¯ donning a thick suit of white ¡ª leaving towards a set of ladders built into the side of the craft. I cocked my head for a moment, my eyes landing on Emma¡¯s thickly-suited form, and that of her ancestor. And in that moment, did I realize the amusing connection that came with human exploration ¡ª the necessity for protection of an otherwise weak and fragile form. Along with the nerves of steel that must have come with such a precarious endeavor. Following which, did my eyes once more focus on her ancestor, as the man awkwardly shuffled down the ladder, his booted feet touching down on a dusty and desolate wasteland that stretched ominously into the void-filled skies. ¡°That¡¯s one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.¡± He spoke in a foreign tongue, his words translated into High Nexian text beneath his person. After which, did Emma finally speak. ¡°1969. 66 years after we first took to the skies, and eight years after we first breached it. The year we achieved the impossible. The year we first set foot upon a celestial body.¡± ¡°A realm unto its own.¡± Thacea spoke, her voice restraining the shock welling within. ¡°A realm¡­ of what exactly?¡± Ilunor piped up abruptly. ¡°Of rock and dust?! Of white-sanded deserts?! Perhaps later you will come to find a lush paradise, perhaps an oasis? Perhaps something that is befitting of this location¡¯s namesake? What was it? The sea of tranquility?¡± ¡°Well, no, Ilunor. This is more or less all you¡¯re going to get from the moon.¡± Emma explained, gesturing around her as her ancestors began fiddling with their manaless tools. ¡°So this was an exercise in futility then? Expending your resources for the sake of reaching a barren wasteland?¡± Ilunor shot back, before lifting up a finger. ¡°You know, earthrealmer. This is why the Nexus actually identifies pleasant and palatable worlds before exploring them, at least when we aren¡¯t too busy exploring our own infinitely expanding plane. But¡­ given the limiting nature of your inter-realm travel, it seems like you lack that luxury.¡± He began snickering, garnering a frustrated sigh from Emma who quickly brought up another picture, set against the darkness of the sight-seer. ¡°I can see where you¡¯re coming from, Ilunor. I understand that to a Nexian, this endeavor must feel like a waste of resources.¡± Emma paused, garnering a self-satisfied nod from Ilunor. ¡°But not to us. Because where you see endless expanses of nothing, we see a future. A future not beholden to the limitations of today. Because if nature proves not to be forthcoming, then we¡¯ll simply build a nature of our own. A nature we can design, control, and adorn to our whims; to our comfort. However, even disregarding all of that, we chose to go to the moon not because of a desire to exploit or expand. Instead, we chose to go to it because it was the next logical leap forward.¡± Emma redirected her gaze towards the floating image, of what I assumed to be a human leader standing behind a podium, above a crowd of gathered humans. ¡°But why, some say, the Moon? Why choose this as our goal? And they may as well ask, why climb the highest mountain? Why, 35 years ago, fly the Atlantic? We choose to go to the moon in this decade and to do other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one we intend to win.¡± Chapter 115: Children of a Dead Realm Ilunor I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell. I wanted to give that would-be human ¡®leader¡¯ a lesson in logical fallacies. You do not simply equate the scaling of a mountain, or the crossing of a body of water, with the traversal of dead space. For the former two exist, but the latter¡­ ¡­ Doesn¡¯t. ¡­ I paused. Reeling myself back. Taking a moment to ponder what it was that I was even thinking. The void, this dead space¡­ its existence was tentative, yes. But so were manaless newrealmers¡­ and everything else they purveyed. Moreover, had I not already accepted earthrealm as a dead realm? It stands to reason then that this dead space¡­ must exist. That means my argument, my reflexive decision to berate the man had no bearing on reality since¡ª No. There must be other points in that speech that could undermine¡­ all of this. I took a deep breath, turning every which way within the great nothingness that was this dead realm. This¡­ realm within and without another realm. It was disorientating. Especially as that infernal language that was earthrealmer gibberish blared throughout the sight-seer. Their words¡­ barbaric, figuratively, and literally as well. As each and every word sounded as if they were garbling harsh syllables without consideration for a more refined tonal sensibility. Barbarians would be a fitting way to describe them. ¡­ But barbarians they were not. For their commitment to overcoming their limitations, to championing sapience against the repulsive and unfeeling forces of the natural order, their tenacity and their stubbornness, all of it¡­ was the work of the civilized mind. All of it was undeniably¡­ the rhetoric of a civilized peoples. But they are manaless! A part of me screamed, trying to reel back this¡­ new side of me that would dare to extend the title of civility to a newrealmer, let alone a manaless one at that. But despite its screams¡ª In spite of its credibility, owing to its voice representing the sum total of civilization itself¡ª ¡­I couldn¡¯t help but to resist it. And not for any love or compassion for Emma or her kind. No. It was because there was no longer a clear line between reality and unreality. For the very artifice we now stood within, was a living contradiction to a reality I could no longer passively refute. A reality whose long, drawn-out history was sensible. Even if that sensibility was beholden to an entirely alien set of logic and norms. Norms which rewarded the insane, and punished the reasonable. Logic that worked¡­ but only within a reality of chaos and impossibility. A reality so novel, that it was better ignored as the exception to the true norms ¡ª status eternia. I could not lose sight of that. Prince Thalmin and Princess Thacea could not lose sight of that either. For they both existed within living realms of mana and magic. Not realms of the dead and unliving. I had to remind them of that. I had to take it upon myself to embody the role of the parent, the senior, and the wizened elder. I had to carry with me that which both the Prince and Princess so dearly lack ¡ª the strength of character from a noble of an unending lineage. And I would be there when the time comes, as the sole voice of reason, amidst a sea of starstruck fools ¡ª to remind them that not all could be reality. Emma, as convincing as she is, could still be lying. Perhaps not now. Perhaps not with the alternate truths she currently purveyed. But the risk was there for the future to play out differently. Because as with any trap, honeyed is the trail that leads to damnation. But thankfully, I had already tasted the ambrosia of truth. And it was I, and I alone, that could resist the nectar of Emma¡¯s sweet nothings. This commitment to the truth was not to be delayed however. As I had yet more questions to pose the ever-so-prepared purveyor of alternate truths. ¡°Emma.¡± I began, turning towards the earthrealmer with an expectant step, watching on as these ¡®astronauts¡¯ started planting their kingdom¡¯s flag on this new realm ¡ª hinting to the fractionalization of their troubled past. ¡°Yes, Ilunor?¡± ¡°That¡­ speech, it was from one of your leaders, correct?¡± ¡°Yeah, an ancient leader from one of our old states. The very state whose flag you see being planted here now. The predecessor to one of the super-states that later became an influential bloc within the halls of the Greater United Nations¡¯ General and People¡¯s Assemb¡ª¡± ¡°Yes, yes, yes. That is all well and good. However, I have a question pertaining to his¡­ lofty ambitions.¡± ¡°Alright? Hit me.¡± ¡°He claims to wish to reach for your moon, and, ahem ¡ª to do other things. If that much is true, then tell me, why would he have not aimed for something larger?¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, I¡¯m not really following¡ª¡± ¡°You stated that every point on your non-existent tapestry is a ¡®realm unto its own¡¯, correct?¡± ¡°Yeah, more or less. I was admittedly being a bit reductive there, but¡ª¡± ¡°Then why the moon?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t play me for a fool, Emma Booker. If the moon was such a coveted destination, then surely there¡¯s a far larger, far more enticing destination which would¡¯ve obviously taken precedent. One which dominates the day, rather than merely skulking occasionally in the night.¡± I paused, allowing the earthrealmer to process what it was I was broaching. As it was clear to me that somewhere behind that faceplate was a face currently reaching the same realization as I. ¡°Tell me, Cadet Emma Booker, why didn''t you aim for the sun itself?¡±
Emma I wanted to scream. As much as I wanted to laugh. But that was the immature side of me talking. It was clear that I¡¯d skirted by Ilunor¡¯s fundamental systemic incongruency, but that we were close to a looming impasse. Though at the same time, I realized that this was the moment I could finally address the elephant in the room that started this whole mess. The question of stars. This wasn¡¯t a moment to laugh and berate, no. This was the moment to enlighten and inform, and also prime-time to finally address the elephant in the room that was the Nexus¡¯ own sun and moon. This was what the whole mission was all about. And I was loving every bit of it.
Thalmin Ilunor had a point. If the moon was a realm unto its own, a desolate waste of nothing as it may be, then what of the sun? A blazing realm of fire and death perhaps, but humanity seemed adept at surviving any environment with the aid of their suits of armor. Surely the sun would¡¯ve been a far greater goal to achieve. ¡°Perhaps you could show us a sight-seer of your people arriving on the surface of your sun, Emma?¡± I posited.
Ilunor ¡°I¡¯m afraid that there are certain things that are impossible even by our metrics, guys.¡± The earthrealmer spoke through a rare admission of inadequacy. ¡°And yet you claim that all points in the sky are realms unto themselves.¡± I pushed. ¡°Why is it then, that your people weren¡¯t able to reach your sun?¡± ¡°Oh, we reached it alright, and the sun definitely is a realm unto its own¡ª¡± ¡°Then why do you claim to be unable to¡ª¡± ¡°Because the sun, in addition to being a deadly source of light, is likewise a realm composed entirely of perpetual fire.¡± That response¡­ simply did not register. My eyes, expectedly, turned towards the looming source of light that hovered above even this dead and desolate world. ¡°A realm of perpetual fire.¡± I mimed back, half in disbelief, and partially in a half-hearted attempt at a question. ¡°Yeah. Actually, it¡¯ll be easier to show you. Let¡¯s quickly pop on over to the sun, shall we~?¡± No sooner were those words spoken were we suddenly flung across the sheer emptiness of the void. I felt myself listless amidst nothingness. I felt¡­ closer to death, or what felt like damnation, than ever before. Is this what earthrealmers contended with on a daily basis? Is this what goes through their minds¡­ Every. Single. Day? Is this what they actively had to consider and rationalize, as they float through this void, atop their tiny world? Or worse¡­ as they traverse the void, within ships the size of a dinghy? These questions, these thoughts and feelings, all of it, came to a head as we passed by several more ¡®realms¡¯, before finally, skirting past the upper reaches of this broken reality¡¯s sun. ¡­ Or what I assumed was the sun. Because after a certain point did we find ourselves bathed in a blinding light. One powerful enough to elicit winces from everyone present. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a little bit bright, so let me tone it down a bit. Consider this a more hospitable rendering of what it¡¯s actually like to be up-close and personal next to this angry ball of perpetual fire.¡± Our view shifted once again, now skirting by what I could only imagine was an insurmountable distance above its surface. A surface¡­ composed almost entirely of boiling, frothing, magma. Magma¡­ that had somehow coalesced into individual ¡®cells¡¯, honeycomb-like in structure, bubbling and frothing ¡ª angry ¡ª with the fury only found within the heart of a dragon. Following which, did we find our illusion of safety broken. As suddenly, and without warning, were we violently struck with arc-like projections from its superheated surface, as dazzling, almost mesmerizing plumes of pure heat danced amidst the darkness of the void. The prince and princess reeled back in shock at this display. Whilst in contrast, I found myself not fearful, nor even bothered by the motions of these tendrils of fire. Instead¡­ I was mesmerized and entranced. Mesmerized by the eerie beauty of this monstrosity¡¯s fiery arcs, like arms reaching out in vain towards a darkness that it could not harm. Entranced by the restless, magmatic flow and the searing white iridescence of this¡­ realm. My eyes unabashedly enraptured by the motions of flickering flame as if it was transposed onto an endless ocean.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I watched¡­ in awe at the raw power of it all. Akin almost to the indescribable and endless potential of the primavale itself¡ª ¡­ No. ¡­ No¡­ no¡­ Nononono. No. No. NO! It couldn¡¯t. It can¡¯t. ¡°Earthrealmer.¡± I declared, interrupting whatever small lecture Emma had just initiated. ¡°Yes, Ilunor?¡± ¡°Take us to the surface.¡± ¡°I mean, sure, but don¡¯t you want to hear¡ª¡± ¡°Take us there, NOW!¡± I yelled, prompting the earthrealmer to take our sight-seer journey closer still towards this enigmatic realm. A realm that I might¡¯ve simply jumped to conclusions in bridging comparisons to. A realm¡­ that bore an eerily resemblance to¡­ ¡°... the primavale.¡± Thacea muttered under a hushed breath. ¡°No. Do not say that, Princess! It can¡¯t be, it¡¯s impossible!¡± ¡°Wait, what? Ilunor, I assure you this isn¡¯t¡ª¡± I shushed the earthrealmer as we descended further and further towards the realm¡¯s surface. Passing through pillars of raw fire each the size of mountains, and arriving upon an undulating sea of what I now recognized as raw plasma. It was only after ¡®landing¡¯ atop of the ephemeral ¡®surface¡¯ was I slowly able to piece together this¡­ realm. My eyes now fixated on an uneasy, almost transient horizon, or more specifically ¡ª the boundary where this infinite realm of energy ended, and where the void of pure dark nothingness began. ¡°Ilunor? Erm, Earth to Ilunor. You still there, friend?¡± Emma¡¯s incessant noises pierced through my rapidly discombobulating mind. A mind¡­ that was about ready to both reject and accept this dead realm as both closer yet further from truth than I¡¯d ever care to admit. ¡°I¡­ I must both revise and reemphasize my assertions, earthrealmer.¡± I spoke through a hoarse breath, as everyone present remained silent, granting me the room to breathe amidst an environment made for those of draconic heritage. ¡°Yours is a reality, a realm, that isn¡¯t so much dead¡­ as much as it is dying.¡±
Thalmin That proclamation¡­ was somehow ludicrous yet grounded. A fact that Emma would corroborate not by words, but by a distinct lack of emotive vitriol. ¡°What?¡± She chimed back plainly. ¡°Do not take me for a fool, earthrealmer. If your people are as remotely as capable as you have been alluding to, then I know you must already be aware of this existential crisis ¡ª that your realm exists on borrowed time. That your kind, in some unfortunate tragedy, had arisen within a realm long since past its prime.¡± The Vunerian paused, shaking his head to and fro, his eyes wide with the look of a mad man. ¡°It all makes sense now. It all makes so much sense.¡± This was rapidly followed up by yet more bold claims, as he pointed expectedly to the void. ¡°Your ¡®sun¡¯, is just one of many I presume?¡± ¡°Yes, Ilunor.¡± ¡°Then that settles it.¡± The Vunerian interjected, cradling his maw within his hands. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker¡­ your realm, your reality, is one which exists in a post-primavalic era. Your sun? But a vestigial remnant, from an era where the primavale spanned infinity and eternity. The other suns in your void? Fellow remnants. Puddles of water where a great endless ocean once stood.¡± ¡°And the various realms of rock and gas floating amidst the void, the result of lingering primavalic energies that were left over, coalescing into cohesive realms, I presume?¡± Emma offered, eliciting a sharp turn of Ilunor¡¯s head back towards her. ¡°So you do know. So you must understand. That your reality is¡ª¡± ¡°I will preface this by saying that I¡¯m genuinely quite pleased by how you¡¯re piecing things together, Ilunor.¡± The earthrealmer began, in a strange, almost alien show of respect towards a Vunerian who had prior to this point ¡ª exclusively played the contrarian. ¡°You¡¯re right, in assuming that our reality has an expiry date.¡± That acknowledgement prompted the Vunerian to beam so bright, that it might as well have overpowered the hellscape we stood upon. ¡°But putting aside the fact that all¡­ or perhaps most realms must have some sort of an expiry date, ours isn¡¯t due in any conceivable stretch of time. We¡¯re looking at like¡­ trillions of years at current estimates.¡± The earthrealmer shrugged, throwing around numbers in an eerily elven manner. ¡°If anything, our sun¡¯s due for its death far, far earlier than that.¡± ¡°So your puddles of primavales are themselves¡­ drying up?¡± Ilunor asked sheepishly, almost as if afraid of that very notion. ¡°Well, it¡¯s more like the ¡®fuel¡¯ it''s using for its endless combustion will eventually run out¡­ but that¡¯s beside the point. I think we need to address some very, very fundamental differences between our realities. Because while you¡¯re superficially right on the money with how things are here, we¡¯re speaking in vague metaphors and grand sweeping similes here. You see¡­ I think that in some weird way, the Nexus and perhaps other realms like it, might just be parallels to my own. Because if you boil it all down, and head right to the beginning of time itself¡­ things seem eerily similar.¡± ¡°What are you trying to say, earthrealmer?¡± Ilunor shot back. ¡°Professor Articord¡¯s class. Her whole beginning of time lecture. It mirrors our own. We both began with an immense release of powerful energy from a very tiny point.¡± Emma began, as she brought up a memory shard recording of that very class, of the ¡®conical model¡¯ of creation as I liked to call it. ¡°Following which, matter as we knew it started to form, whilst the space it occupied expanded. However, where Professor Articord starts going into vague semantics, is where things start to really differ in our realms. Because instead of mana and magical energies coalescing to form landmasses and the tapestry and what-have-you, our reality instead continued to expand. Stretching so far and in every possible direction to the point where you have these¡­ void-filled expanses of practically-nothing in between occasional patches of matter that have since coalesced to form various types of¡­ realms. From realms of near-infinite fire, to realms of mere rock and dust, to realms such as Earth where life arose. Through the force of leypull, mass coalesces to form celestial bodies. And through what we call ¡®dark energy¡¯, is our reality, our universe, continuing to expand ¡®outwards¡¯.¡± Everyone grew silent. All, save for Ilunor. As he began smiling, grinning, before cackling with a certain near-maniacal laughter. ¡°Earthrealmer, no¡­ please¡­ don¡¯t¡­ don¡¯t condemn yourself to this.¡± He pleaded. ¡°What¡ª¡± ¡°You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re describing an infinitely expanding reality, yet one that expands not with verdant fields or even solid rock, but emptiness.¡± He began, before shaking his head rapidly. ¡°You¡¯re describing an antithesis to the Nexus, earthrealmer!¡± ¡°It¡¯s only an antithesis if we try to derive some greater or higher meaning from it, Ilunor. All I¡¯m saying is that there are parallels to our realities, not that there¡¯s any connotation behind said parallels.¡± Emma countered firmly. ¡°If anything, it¡¯s in situations like these where we have to remain calm and resolute, to look only at what are the facts, and what are the truths that these facts bear out.¡± A silence, set amidst the alien and unsettling sounds of this realm of perpetual flames, now descended on the Vunerian, the princess, and even myself. ¡°The truth, hm?¡± Ilunor finally uttered, breaking through the warbly silence. ¡°If it is any consolation to those present, the truth I have derived is such ¡ª earthrealm¡­ and its reality is doomed to suffer the antithesis of the Nexus¡¯ eternal expansion. Whereas the farlands provides us with an infinite expanse of untouched lands by which to settle and exploit, earthrealm¡¯s expansion will result only in emptier space. For there is no new creation, only, the creation of nothing. So nothing is their expansion, and nothing shall be their end.¡± Emma¡­ once more remained surprisingly calm at this, refusing to comment save for a few poignant sentences. ¡°That¡¯s one hypothesis we have of our ultimate end trillions of years from now, yes. But until then, we still have a lot of time to play around with.¡± She spoke optimistically. This¡­ clearly sparked something within the Vunerian, as he stared back with incredulous frustration. ¡°How can you be so calm at such a fate, earthrealmer? Even if it is generations away, even if you cannot conceive of such a time, you still inhabit what is undoubtedly a dead and dying realm. You live within a corpse. How can you find calm, let alone joy in that?!¡± The sight-seer reacted gently at that question, pulling outwards from the ¡®surface¡¯ of this flame-ridden world, so far outwards that it once more became an orb we could fully visualize. ¡°Because within that void, is a sea of infinite possibilities Ilunor. Because every speck of light out there, every star that shines amidst the dark, is another star just like our own. And orbiting those balls of fire? Are worlds yet unexplored. Worlds of infinite possibilities. From worlds of barren rock to worlds that could potentially harbor life. Just in our solar system have we found worlds of indescribable beauty.¡± The earthrealmer paused, pulling us outwards further and further from the sun, towards what appeared to be another spherical globe, except this one¡­ was dominated by a large, imposing, almost fantastical ring. ¡°There is beauty in the dark, Ilunor. And I believe that fact alone is worthy of wonder and optimism. You just need to face and conquer the fear it takes to reach that beauty.¡± The earthrealmer paused, for far longer than what any of us would¡¯ve expected. ¡°Whether that be the beauty of the celestial bodies, or the beauty of life. Because I, for one, can certainly say that it was more than worth it. To have risked and to continue to risk assured death, just for the chance to meet you all.¡±
Thacea A genuine sense of optimism underpinned Emma¡¯s words. A mindset that once again stood at odds with the lengths to which she had to both sacrifice and tolerate the impossibilities of her circumstances, and the shortcomings of her kind. An optimism¡­ that was almost infectious in a way. Especially as her helmet, and the gaze beneath it, seemed to be directed more towards me at the end of that response. Part of me wanted to remind the earthrealmer of the harsh and darker realities of the world she now found herself in; out of concern for her well being. Yet another part of me knew that she was already well aware of it. I would hazard to call her naive, if it wasn¡¯t for our interactions. As above all else, perhaps idealistic was the best way to frame her sensibilities. Though I could scarcely blame her for it. Especially given how her kind had achieved so much, with so very little. And especially as her kind, a landed flock, managed to do what even the greatest of flighted avinor had only once conceived of in flights of fantasy. Ilunor, at this point, had once more grown silent. This coincided with Emma bringing us back ¡®down¡¯ towards her moon, and as she directed her attention once more towards the pensive blue noble. ¡°I have to ask then, Ilunor. Considering your surprise at the nature of my sun and moon¡­ what exactly is going on in the Nexus then? Because I sure as hell recall there being a sun in the sky everyday. No amount of clouds or obfuscated skies was ever going to hide that fact.¡± The Vunerian, momentarily emboldened by this, simply shrugged in response. ¡°It¡¯s simple, earthrealmer. Far more intuitive than whatever crazed abominations that constitute your sun and moon, really. Both the sun and the moon are tapesteric phenomena ¡ª partial and controlled openings of the tapestry to the primavale. These openings, mediated by tapesteric membranes distinct from one another, create the phenomenon known as day, and illuminate the darkness of the night in the form of moonlight. The former, mediated by a tapesteric veil situated between the tapesteric layers called the Nictilume, and the latter mediated by another tapesteric veil, called the Nictumbra.¡± Emma visibly shifted at this, as she stared up at her own sun, before turning back towards the Vunerian. ¡°But¡­ that doesn¡¯t make sense. If there¡¯s a single tear that allows light through, then how does that illuminate the whole of the Nexus¡ª¡± ¡°There¡¯s more than just one, earthrealmer, each illuminating different regions of the Nexus.¡± Ilunor shot back through an annoyed sigh. ¡°Is that not obvious? Moreover, I would insist that you refrain from using the word ¡®tear¡¯ to describe such an elegant phenomenon. For these are controlled openings, distinct from the tears seen in the tapestries of other realms. In addition, these tears are capable of being manipulated, if need be, by laureated planar mages, granting us a greater form of control over the world than you ever will have.¡± Emma moved to speak, as if prompted by that latter line. ¡°Well actually¡ª¡± She paused, before inexplicably dropping that train of thought. ¡°¡ªthat really explains why you were so adamant on your own narrative for the skies, the stars, and the celestial bodies in our realm.¡± She corrected her course, far less deftly than I would¡¯ve done so myself. But enough for Ilunor to at least be satisfied with. Though that did leave the bothersome and lingering question of exactly what her retort would¡¯ve been. Perhaps something related to their skybound constructs. I thought to myself, as the sight of that¡­ structure hovering above Acela remained seared into my working memory. Following which, did Emma seem to enter a state of deep thought, the Nexus¡¯ own cosmology clearly being as much of a fundamental bother to her as her realm was to the Nexian. It was in the midst of this however, did Thalmin interject, though it wasn¡¯t to address any concerns about either reality¡¯s fundamental underpinnings. Instead, his questions were firmly directed towards more worldly concerns. ¡°Emma?¡± ¡°Yes, Thalmin?¡± ¡°This¡­ obsession with the void. It wasn¡¯t merely a sportsmanlike competition, nor was it an endeavor made solely to satiate a single kingdom¡¯s desire for exploration now, was it?¡± He began, before pointing at the red white and blue flag next to the unsightly voidcraft. ¡°Judging by the banners, and the clear divide between heraldry and symbology present, this was more than likely a competition between kingdoms. This endeavor¡­ an extension of that conflict ¡ª a sort of race to breach the tapestry. Because if your leader¡¯s speech was anything to go by, with his final words declaring a desire for victory, then there must have been a rivalry, or even a war, with which to win.¡±
Thalmin Emma didn¡¯t pause, nor did she allow doubt to form within dead air. Instead, she simply nodded, acknowledging my concerns without any indications to deceive. ¡°You¡¯re right on the money there, Thalmin.¡± She spoke plainly. ¡°This whole back and forth, starting off with Sputnik, was a period known in our early contemporary history as the Space Race. It was, by many measures, as much a point of national pride between competing ideological blocs as it was about making a point ¡ª to put on a show of a nation¡¯s scientific and technological capabilities.¡± ¡°Capabilities that would translate beyond mere industriousness, prosperity, or civil capability, I assume.¡± I added bluntly, gauging the earthrealmer¡¯s reaction. On whether or not she would intend to evade, or acknowledge what was so blatantly the truth that any warrior worth their mettle would¡¯ve realized. ¡°If you¡¯re implying that these achievements were also meant to publicize their military capabilities by proxy? Then yes, that was definitely part of it. Because science and technology, as with magic I presume, can be applied to both peaceful and martial endeavors. The same could most definitely be said for rocketry, which was a point of huge contention during this¡­ uneasy peace between supranational ideological blocs.¡± I didn¡¯t know where to begin. Or what to address. Emma¡¯s¡­ surprising earnesty, for one, was appreciated. Though it was the content of her responses that sent me into deeper and deeper thought. Eventually arriving at a sense of both validation and fearful trepidation. Validation of my theories on the firespears, on their use beyond mere exploration as an instrument of war. And trepidation, stemming from their awesome capabilities, and the wrath they could surely bring to any battlefield. I paused, wishing to delve further into the sheer horror these artifices could inflict. But something within me hesitated. Either out of respect for the tone of this sight-seer, or the lengths to which we had already committed to another near-sleepless night. Or perhaps, out of a fear of what I¡¯d actually see. ¡°I¡¯d like to see this in action, if possible.¡± I announced, testing the earthrealmer to see if she would comply. A lack of a response however was my answer, which prompted me to simply shrug. ¡°But perhaps we can reserve that for another time.¡± I smiled. With a wordless nod from the earthrealmer and a sigh of relief from the Vunerian, the world around us was promptly and seamlessly brought to a close, revealing our curtained confines. One which was quickly dismantled, courtesy of the earthrealmer¡¯s arachnid-like arm. ¡°I must ask, Emma.¡± I spoke, as another thought soon dawned upon me. A question that had spawned from something far closer to my heart than I¡¯d ever want to admit. ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°This is¡­ somewhat unrelated to my previous question, but I do wish to ask. Have you or your ancestors ever encountered¡­ spirits on your moon?¡± This question garnered a chuckle from the Vunerian, whom I hushed with a terse growl. As much as the old beliefs were fading, and as much as I understood that earthrealm¡¯s unique circumstances put it at odds with those very beliefs, I¡­ still needed to address this. For when else could I inquire about the existence of the Ancestral Plane, but from a people who had visited an analogue of such a place? ¡°Well, at the time of the first moon landings, I can most definitely confirm that the moon¡¯s not haunted, Thalmin.¡± Emma began. However, just as quickly as she spoke, did she stop in her tracks, as if to reassess her own words. ¡°Though¡­ given it¡¯s been a millennium since then, and nearly as much time since the creation of a permanent human settlement on the moon ¡ª I assume that there¡¯s probably spirits up there now owing to how many humans have since lived and died on the moon.¡± I curled my brow up at this, poised for a follow-up question that now contended with the ire of a princess¡¯ glare. As if beckoning me to finally retire for the night. ¡°Right.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°And I assume that this is¡ª¡± ¡°Just a personal belief, really. Because there¡¯s not really a way for us to objectively determine the existence of that using scientific instruments.¡± ¡°And this is an aspect of your faith or¡ª¡± ¡°Yeah, roughly. Again, I¡¯m probably not the best person to discuss these sorts of things.¡± Emma interjected sheepishly. With a respectful nod, and through the insistence of both Ilunor and Thacea, I silently took my leave. But not before turning back to Emma one last time with a deeper nod. ¡°This conversation has been quite enlightening Emma, thank you.¡±
Thacea I watched, as following the dismantling of Emma¡¯s sight-seer, did she simply remain upright, all the while letting out a series of soft and barely-audible sighs from deep within. ¡°Emma, are you quite alright?¡± ¡°Oh, oh! Right, that¡­ I thought I¡¯d muted myself there but I guess I¡¯m just a bit out of it.¡± She responded¡­ whilst still maintaining that impeccable posture. The contrast between her voice and condition, versus the armor¡¯s state¡­ struck me as odd. Which prompted me to address it, if only because it was the most apt time to do so. ¡°It sounds to me as if you have ample space inside of that armor to rest.¡± I began, garnering another chuckle from the human within. ¡°Yeah¡­ it was definitely designed to be that way. That, or I¡¯m probably just a bit smaller on the inside than you¡¯d imagine.¡± Those words prompted a moment of hesitation in the topic that next needed to be broached. Though despite my curiosities, did my social sensibilities¡­ and my concern for the earthrealmer win out. ¡°As much as that may be the case, I must insist that you appropriately retire for the night, Emma. Lest you risk falling asleep in your armor on a night before classes.¡± Chapter 116: Beauty in the Dark Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma¡¯s Room. Local Time: 0110 Hours. Thacea There was a rule ¡ª unspoken yet clearly defined ¡ª between those of royal blood and those belonging to a more common disposition. That rule, hedged upon the principles of expectant decorum, was so universal that it purveyed every waking moment of my sensibilities. So much so that despite understanding the current circumstances were anything but expectant, I still managed to feel taken aback by Emma¡¯s actions. Actions being the operative word in this instance. As in addition to the sheer¡­ awe that came with the topics shown within her sight-seer, it was her actions following its conclusion that had managed to elicit the irritation that came with an unruly subject. I had instructed her to retire for the night. And yet, even after a full bath, did I arrive to find her nowhere close to carrying forth that instruction. Instead, I exited the bath to find a trail of manaless trinkets leading towards the balcony which she currently stood upon, her head firmly craned upwards towards the very impetus which spawned this night¡¯s outing ¡ª the ¡®starless¡¯ skies. I approached slowly, displeased by the lack of the earthrealmer¡¯s adherence to my reasonable request, yet also concerned for the unnatural and undeniably gargoyle-like posture which she currently assumed. A posture which never once flinched as far as I¡¯d taken notice. ¡°Emma?¡± I asked politely, refraining from assuming my social role, one which otherwise came naturally to me in practically any other situation. But not here. Not with this earthrealmer who had managed to slowly chip away at that expectant role from that very first night. Yet despite the¡­ laxness that came with our interactions. This was an instance in which I had to take charge. If not for decorum¡¯s sakes, then for the sake of Emma¡¯s own well being.
Emma I couldn¡¯t believe what I was seeing. I had my doubts. No. I had more than doubts following Ilunor¡¯s explanations of the Nexus¡¯ own peculiar cosmology. Yet I never thought to myself that I would be experiencing an ¡®Ilunor moment¡¯ ¡ª a moment of sheer fundamental systemic incongruency as I stared out at an object, a thing that should not have been there. Atop my head was a souped-up version of a battlefield recon-optic suite, one designed for use in both the Forward Expeditionary ranger forces, and the pathfinders within T-SEC. Except this one was rated for far, far more than typical tactical activities. This was rated for minor astronomical tomfoolery. And that tomfoolery was what I had intended to gun for the moment Ilunor¡¯s explanations graced my ears. So as soon as Thacea had excused herself for her hour-long spa session did I immediately clamor for that module attachment, fixing it onto my helmet¡¯s compound-lock rail system, before barreling towards the balcony to stare up into that ominously dark and starless sky. I¡¯d expected to see a moon. As in spite of Ilunor¡¯s assertions, his explanations¡­ never really landed. Instead, they merely lodged themselves as a point to disprove. A fact that I now chastised myself for, especially given how I¡¯d promised myself to be more open-minded to the possibilities of impossibilities within an entirely different dimension; an entirely different reality. An impossibility¡­ that had now well and truly come to fruition. As what I saw was something that even the primary school astronomy student would find odd. Because instead of the typically-rendered surface one would expect from a zoomed-in view at the moon ¡ª a view that even the most amateur of home astronomers would be familiar with ¡ª filled with the tell-tale landmarks of another world, I instead saw¡­ a round circular body. One, which neither I nor the EVI could extract any surface details from, other than the off-white dim light being exuded from it. It was less an object deep within space, as much as it was just¡­ a hole. One which even pulsated, its perfectly round shape twitching ever so slightly, even going so far as to narrow and widen, dilating like some oversized eye. These latter observations, as subtle as it may be and perhaps even impossible to notice with the naked eye¡­ completely destroyed me. As I watched, minute after minute, my eyes no longer focused on its surface but on its¡­ twitching throughout the hour. Only once or twice did I disengage, and only to double-check my sanity through the EVI¡¯s extended sensor reports (ESRs). Each line of which, spat out point after point of erroneous readings. None of which conformed to what one would expect of a planet¡¯s natural satellite. From the unnaturally flat light curve, to its trajectory which upon closer inspection, left a sort of trail. A barely noticeable artifact of light that at first looked like some sort of refractive light phenomenon, but throughout the course of the hour seemed more like a gap left in the moon¡¯s wake. Like it was actually ¡®zipping up¡¯ the ¡®sky¡¯ behind it. Part of me was in sheer awe at this, wanting to find ways to now support Ilunor¡¯s assertions over its nature. Yet another part of me couldn¡¯t help but to feel a growing sense of dread over it, attempting to rationalize it in a way that made sense with my own understanding of what it should have been. Rationalizing it in an attempt to make it more congruent with what I¡¯d expected. Both of these conflicting thoughts however, along with the cosmic horror slowly gnawing at me in the back of my mind, was suddenly and thankfully interrupted by the princess. I felt myself coming back down to earth. But instead of finding the typical concerned expression on Thacea¡¯s face, my cameras instead relayed to me an expression that fit more in line with stoic frustration. ¡°Had I not instructed you to retire for the night?¡± She spoke with an audible level of irritation. One that I could only blame myself for, as I turned around to face the avinor, her expressions changing if ever so slightly as her eyes moved to notice the massive 8-lensed monstrosity of a device sitting ¡®precariously¡¯ atop of my forehead. This definitely wasn¡¯t going to help the arachnid-like claims Ilunor had thrown around following the revelation of my ARMS.
Thacea I blinked. Rapidly. As the indignant part of me came to a screeching halt at the sight of the¡­ arachnous lenses Emma had chosen to adorn her helmet with. I couldn¡¯t help but to shudder, this unexpected addition adding an entirely new layer of otherworldly unsightliness onto an already ominous being. A being whose people seemed to be alarmingly adept at constructing more and more highly specific, esoteric artifices to enhance whatever form it was that lay beneath the layers of protective steel. However, this sense of otherness soon faded upon the voice of its user breaking through these layers of artificiality. ¡°Oh, erm, sorry Thacea. I¡­ got a bit carried away there, what with Ilunor¡¯s claims and stuff.¡± She began, as she yet again raised her arm up behind her helmet. Her overly colorful body language and the animated voice behind that helmet completely disrupting any and all of the foreboding the armor and its new addition had just exuded. ¡°I couldn''t help myself from investigating it immediately. So I decided to grab some equipment just to give the moon a cursory look. And erm¡­ yeah, it¡¯s definitely not what I was expecting.¡± This¡­ casualness, and the inexplicable friendliness that always seemed to come through the earthrealmer¡¯s voice, had almost completely disarmed the royal indignancies welling within me. In fact, the overt familiarness through which Emma carried herself, which was at first off-putting, now felt inexplicably agreeable. As this sort of earnesty was otherwise a completely foreign concept in most circles. ¡°I assume those are lenses of some sort?¡± I asked, giving into both my own growing curiosity, and a desire for equally casual banter. ¡°Yup! That¡¯s correct!¡± Emma responded promptly, though in spite of the eagerness to talk, I couldn¡¯t help but to notice the disquieting anxiousness welling beneath it. ¡°I¡¯m sure the fact that it¡¯s multi-lensed is probably throwing you off¡ª¡± ¡°I assume that similar to certain artifices, they are to detect more esoteric aspects of the world. Perhaps analogous to manasplicers ¡ª specialized tools designed to further aid in the observation of different spectrums of mana.¡± I interjected, causing the earthrealmer to simply nod in acknowledgement. ¡°Yeah, this thing¡¯s rated for more than just simple optical zoom-ins and whatnot so you¡¯re right on the money there, Thacea.¡± Emma admitted, her tone of voice hinting at her emotional recovery as the conversation continued. This¡­ clear discomfort prompted me to momentarily abandon my pursuit of the earthrealmer¡¯s compliance, instead choosing to join her on the balcony, peering up at the wide and radiant night skies of the Nexus. This moment of silence was spent with the human cocking her head in my direction, as she moved back and forth between her own observations of the skies, and the movement of my own eyes. ¡°There¡¯s probably a lot more going on from your perspective, huh?¡± She managed out with an eager restlessness, prompting me to nod as I began pointing at each radiant point, using what means I had available to illustrate to Emma the stunning natural beauty that stood in contrast to the rot that was the Nexus. I superimposed the shapes of the various manastreams as points of visible light. I colored in the spaces between those shapes, using light that was visible to the naked eye, in turn creating what I would hazard to even call art without the flair of any mana overtones. Following all of which, I eventually brought these points of static art to life, creating what I could only describe as a flat and lifeless facsimile of the real beauty floating just behind it. A twinge of concern quickly precipitated as a result of this display however. As I worried not for a jab of criticism at my artistic abilities. But instead, the social gesture this act had inadvertently treaded into. The act of belittling, through what could be misconstrued as a patronizing gesture. I held my breath, ready for the offense to be responded in kind with a dismissive slight. But nothing came. Instead, the only thing to be vocalized was a soft and barely audible. ¡°Whoa.¡± Followed close in tow by a reaction brimming with earnest wonder. ¡°That¡¯s stunning.¡± The human spoke, her voice drenched in such astonishment that I could actually attribute a phantom smile to it. ¡°And I don¡¯t just mean the fancy light shows and auroras, but the art itself.¡± She continued, eliciting a cock of my head, as she turned to face me instead of the small patch of light in front of us. ¡°A natural mage, a scholar, a skilled statesman, and now an artist too? What else are you going to surprise me with next, your grace?¡± Rarely was I ever thrown off by a response, and rarer still were those moments where conversation elicited a physical reaction. This, however, happened to be one of those rare few instances. As I stood there ¡ª feathers thankfully not on end ¡ª but only as a result of the conditioner and rejuvenating oils I¡¯d just applied. Flattery was often the cheapest and most readily used tool in the roster of weapons one had within banquets and galas. But flattery spoken with such earnesty¡­ was something I had rarely experienced. If ever. ¡°Erm, Thacea? I¡¯m sorry if that was offensive to say or anything¡ª¡± ¡°Oh, no! No. I apologize for taking a moment, I just¡­¡± I paused, gathering myself by clearing my throat. ¡°It is not often that I receive compliments, most certainly not for an impromptu sketch of all things.¡± I attempted to explain, staring at those red lenses, as if peering closer into them would¡¯ve allowed me a greater glimpse into the enigmatic being within. A being that had somehow managed to defy not only fundamental expectations, but any worldly expectations of decorum too. ¡°Heh, well, I¡¯m glad it wasn¡¯t offensive or anything. I know there¡¯s a lot of unspoken social rules here and you¡¯re really the last person I¡¯d want to stir up any issues with, especially if it was unintentional.¡± The human promptly added, moving to rub the back of her head once again. ¡°I¡­ appreciate that Emma, thank you.¡± The next few moments were once again marked by silence, as I glanced up at the most powerful spectacle of all within the Nexus at night ¡ª the ¡®moon¡¯. Or more specifically, one of many which punctuated the different regions of the Nexus. ¡°Thacea¡­ I gotta ask, was Ilunor¡­ actually right?¡± Emma began, her voice sheepish, as if realizing that the topic was taking us further and further away from my actual goal for the both of us. ¡°T-that¡¯s the last question I¡¯ll ask for the night, I promise.¡± She quickly added, reminding myself of a young, reckless fledgling incapable of taking a simple order from a nurse bestowed with maternal authority. ¡°To avoid losing ourselves to yet another long-winded tangent ¡ª yes.¡± I answered plainly, and with an authoritative cadence that came naturally to me, as I kept¡­ swaying, between both a formal yet informal and dare I say it ¡ª personable rhetoric ¡ª when addressing Emma. Natural authority, despite it being the expected diction by which to address Emma, just never felt appropriate. This sentimentality was difficult to truly place, but its effects were felt all throughout. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Especially as I acquiesced to the burning whims of human curiosity. ¡°I sense you wish to briefly follow-up that question. So I will allow it¡ª¡± ¡°Thanks!¡± The human interjected ecstatically, raising both of her hands up in front of her arachnous-face in some foreign gesture of excitement. Yet instead of being repulsed, offended, or indignant of what would in any other situation be a social slight born of commoner dispositions¡­ I instead felt amused by it. In a way that was immensely difficult to put into words. ¡°So, er, I just wanted to quickly follow up that question by asking this. Is it the same across the board? As in, other adjacent realms? Because I can try to suspend my disbelief for the Nexus. But like, since every adjacent realm is more or less another dimension, or at least separate dimensions from the Nexus, are they all like this? Or are some of them operating more similarly to my realm¡¯s cosmological paradigms?¡± ¡°I do not have a definitive answer for that, Emma.¡± I answered promptly. ¡°Nor can I speak for every realm. However, what I can speak for is my own. In which case, the answer becomes¡­ nebulous. This is because all ideas purveying anything other than the Nexian status quo comes from our rich history prior to the Nexian Reformations. However, as the reformations in Aetheronrealm were both divisive and bloody, much of our records from that era have either been lost or continue to exist as unsubstantiated folktales. However, if the aforementioned¡­ whispers are to be believed, the empiricalists from before my time claimed that the universe, and reality itself, operated in a way that was¡­ strangely analogous to what your people have discovered, Emma.¡± I paused, taking a moment to ponder that statement, especially as the Nexian cosmological truths felt so compelling when in their raw and unquestionable presence. ¡°The belief was that our globe, our world, existed as merely part of a greater system. One separated not by the fabric of reality, but by sheer distance and unimaginable scale.¡±
Emma That answer¡­ brought about so many more questions. If the Nexian narrative was what Ilunor claimed it to be, then could we be looking at a whole hodge-podge of realities with vastly different universal rules? Or was it a clear cut divide between what I was now coining the Nexian Model, versus the Standard Model of cosmology? And when taking into account the blatant historical revisionism that was the ¡®Nexian Reformations¡¯, was it possible that Thacea¡¯s reality was simply operating on the ¡®Standard Model¡¯? Theories abounded now over this whole can of worms. Theories that, unfortunately, had to be saved for another day. As Thacea would reinforce her two-question policy for the night with a stern glare that caused something within me to physically flinch. ¡°I concede to your will, your grace.¡± I bowed playfully, eliciting yet another flustered expression from the royal as she took a single step back, before slowly but surely recovering. These small moments were what made this whole mission so worth it, as I couldn¡¯t help but to gleefully smile beneath the helmet. We both reentered the dorms wordlessly, but not before I continued playing the part of the princess¡¯ knight, opening and closing the double doors of the balcony. However, right before I left for the tent, and before I could even bid the princess goodnight, she suddenly brought up a topic that I wasn¡¯t at all expecting. ¡°Emma?¡± ¡°Yes, Thacea?¡± ¡°There is¡­ one more item I wished to briefly touch upon before you retire. That is, if you believe yourself able to¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m all ears, Thacea.¡± Thacea paused, and in one of the rare few instances in which her barriers were lowered, shifted forwards with an expression that stood in contrast to the regally stoic mask she typically wore. It was in that instance that I knew something was up. That, or I might¡¯ve been misreading things entirely. ¡°During your presentation, you mentioned that there is, quote ¡ª beauty to be found in the dark.¡± Thacea began, halting halfway as if out of some tepid self-doubt. ¡°Yes I did.¡± I nodded, not so much urging the princess along out of impatience, as much as it was an attempt to provide reassurance where she so clearly needed it. ¡°Did you mean it?¡± Thacea continued abruptly, taking me by surprise. ¡°Yeah, I did.¡± I replied intuitively. ¡°As with anything else in that presentation, I was being completely frank about¡ª¡± ¡°That much I gathered, yes. But what I mean is¡­ did you mean it as a representative, an emissary of your people¡¯s values. Or do you also believe it, intrinsically, on a personal level?¡± There was¡­ a level of weight to that question that I wasn¡¯t at all expecting. One that should¡¯ve prompted me to stop and think long and hard for an answer. But one that I instead chose to reply with an earnest stream of consciousness. ¡°Both, princess.¡± I began. ¡°I meant it, both professionally and personally. I don¡¯t think I have to elaborate further on the professional part, but personally? I find that the dark is usually misunderstood. The dark simply obscures all things, equally, and indiscriminately. And sometimes¡­ maybe the monsters most people see, might actually instead turn out to be anything but. Because sometimes, we make monsters out of what in actuality should be beautiful, just based on dumb preconceived biases. And I think it¡¯s important to acknowledge that.¡± Thacea paused at that answer, her eyes shifting as if pondering something, before ultimately giving a curt nod in response. ¡°Thank you, Emma. I appreciate your earnesty¡­ in all matters.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Thacea and Emma¡¯s Room. Local Time: 0800 Hours. Emma No dreams this time around. Or at least, none that was out of the ordinary. This was probably why I managed to not wake up in a puddle of my own sweat and drool, which was definitely a plus. Though rolling over, I kinda made that point moot by inflicting the same damage a nightmare would¡¯ve incurred¡­ by slamming face-first into my propped-up tablet and keyboard. Last night¡¯s report more or less took its rightful revenge, as I¡¯d yet again fallen to the foolish thought of finishing work in bed. It didn¡¯t work the week before. Nor did it ever work back home. Why then would I have thought that this time would be any different? I guess the indomitable human spirit really isn¡¯t so indomitable when you¡¯re up against crisp bed sheets. ¡°Right.¡± I steadied myself, grabbing the tablet and scrolling through it. Most of the important bits are already there, at least. A wrap-up of events including the highlight reel, with helpful annotations from the suit¡¯s internal memory storage unit, off-loaded and shunted into the tent¡¯s databanks. ¡°I¡¯ll get back to this later. Maybe even work on it in Vanavan¡¯s class if things get really tedious.¡± I groaned, before shifting my attention to¡­ My non-existent HUD. ¡­ A quick donning of my glasses fixed that issue, as the AR environment returned in all of its seamless and glowy glory. ¡°EVI, morning briefing.¡± I began through a refreshed yawn, taking off my undersuit and shunting it into the washer. ¡°Acknowledged. Local time: 0800. ETA to Professor Vanvan¡¯s Classes: 1 Hour. 1 Objective noted for class: Homework.¡± ¡°Right. Print out homework.¡± I nodded, heading straight into the shower, allowing the EVI to continue unabated. ¡°Acknowledged. Printing. Briefing continues¡­ Current mission objectives as indicated by Mission Commander¡­ A. Locate and Secure the AM-d-002b Low-Bandwidth Exoreality Unidirectional Narrowband Pulsator (Minor Shard of Impart) from the ¡®Amethyst Dragon¡¯. Status: Awaiting completion of reconnaissance operations by local assets: ¡°Sym¡¯s Troubleshooters¡±.¡± ¡°Yeah, they had a time limit of one week to find the dragon. But given our monetary incentives¡­ I expect they should be done in the next few days.¡± I ¡®replied¡¯, garnering an affirmative beep by the EVI. ¡°B. Rebuild the ECS.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s a given.¡± ¡°C. Resume ¡®Library Questline¡¯ with ILUNOR RULARIA¡­ Objective 1 COMPLETE: Scouting and espionage operations on MAL¡¯TORY¡¯S OFFICE¡­ New Objectives as follows: i. Secure temporary possession of the ¡®Green Book¡¯ from Apprentice Larial. ii. Return to the library with the original ¡®Green Book¡¯. iii. Return the ¡®Green Book¡¯ to Apprentice Larial.¡± ¡°Yeah, just make a note that all of these objectives are now heavily contingent on the circumstances surrounding Larial. The current plan is to simply ask for the book. Which¡­ given how we managed to determine Rila¡¯s whereabouts by simply asking, might actually mean the mission will be more straightforward than we thought.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Long term objectives for the Library Questline¡¯ might include actually finding the burned books though. Just take note of that, since the whole ¡®finding the green book¡¯ thing is more a probationary mission for the Seekership, rather than fulfilling Ilunor¡¯s complete freedom.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± I sighed, stepping out of the shower now as I started wiping down my glasses. ¡°Continue.¡± ¡°D. Rila¡¯s whereabouts. Objective COMPLETE.¡± ¡°Yeah, actually, that may be the one thing we¡¯ve properly completed. Take it down to secondary priority now, and designate a new objective: find Rila a long-term solution for her current¡­ unemployment issue.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°E. Follow-up on Lord ETHOLIN ESILA¡¯S meeting request. Objective: COMPLETE.¡± ¡°A-firm on that one. Move Etholin¡¯s whole thing to the secondary objectives masterlist too. I have plans for him. Namely, the securing of ¡®Low Nexian¡¯ dialects so that I can better communicate with normal folk, and also furthering the pen shop idea with him as a joint-venture project.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°I was never one for the private sector honestly, never thought I¡¯d touch it. But I guess there¡¯s a time for everything.¡± I spoke to no one, as the EVI eventually continued. ¡°F. Continue the mana-desaturation experiments. Priority: Foodstuff viability tests. Status: 9 confirmed staple foodstuffs determined as per the HACCP protocols.¡± ¡°Right. So, about the food¡­ I was thinking of visiting the kitchens eventually, just to see what¡¯s up with the mana saturation levels of these dishes. Because correct me if I¡¯m wrong, but there¡¯s a marked difference noted between the complexity of the dishes and the mana saturation levels of each dish, correct?¡± ¡°Affirmative, Cadet.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s something that I need to investigate. And where better to do that than the kitchens themselves? So, just add that in. We might not get to it this week with the dragon quest and all but¡­ it¡¯s nice to note.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Objective added.¡± ¡°G. Review drone footage from DEAN¡¯S office following scheduled or prompted self-extraction.¡± ¡°That drone hasn¡¯t returned yet¡­ right¡­ we¡¯re going to play a waiting game with that one then¡­¡± I paused, my eyes eventually landing on a new major objective. One that I¡¯d added in the haze of my sleep deprived state no doubt. ¡°Right, let¡¯s formalize this objective. I. Determine the nature of the Nexus¡¯ skies and cosmology. We may need to whip out or print some special toys for this one.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Clarify Objective H?¡± ¡°You mean expect the unexpected? I thought I told you, EVI, that objective stays no matter what!¡± I winked, garnering yet another beep from the virtual assistant. ¡°Anyways, we¡¯ll work out the details for Objective I later, this¡­ is going to be a pretty big undertaking.¡± Next came the Academy dictated objectives, most of which were already covered by last week¡¯s completion of both the House Choosing Ceremony and the town shopping trip. Though two new objectives quickly came to take their place. ¡°A. Class Sovereign ¡®Questlines¡¯. B. Homework.¡± ¡°Yeah, nah, we¡¯re not interested in A. Just make a note to keep an eye for how things go on that front, but we¡¯re not getting involved. As for B, I¡¯m sure you have that covered. Right, EVI?¡± I grinned widely, eliciting a drawn-out affirmative beep as I began drying myself off and donning a fresh new undersuit. ¡°Right, well, let¡¯s head out to class. We got to face the music with Etholin¡¯s group and the awkward fallout of us coming just ahead of him in the House Choosing Ceremony. And I think I might just pay Rila another visit today, though even that¡¯ll be contingent on whether or not Larial is available first.¡± ¡°Acknowledged¡­ Addendum: Reminder to mission commander. Current status on Project: ¡®Wand Step For Mankind¡¯ ¡ª printing Alpha Prototype. Time to completion: 5 Hours.¡± ¡°Right! Thanks for reminding me, EVI. We¡¯ll get that installed soon then.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡±
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower en Route to the Grand Concourse of Learning. Local Time: 0840 Hours. Emma ¡°I gotta say, guys, the Academy uniforms aren¡¯t so bad¡­¡± I grinned, eliciting annoyed grunts and frustrated hisses from the Vunerian and the Lupinor in equal measures. Gone were both of their signature outfits. Replaced instead by the outfit I¡¯d mostly associated Thacea with for the past week ¡ª the reserved, dare I say ¡®common¡¯ outfit consisting of a plain white blouse, deep navy blue pants, a weird brown and grey corset-thing, and a gem near the neck-line, acting like a weird sort of brooch. This¡­ outfit, whilst fitting with Thacea¡¯s aesthetics, did nothing to add to the two men. If anything, it detracted from the martial aesthetic I¡¯d associated with Thalmin¡¯s roman-esque armor, and Ilunor¡¯s streamlined baroque getup. The black cloak did mitigate the damage to their aesthetics however. But only so much that it hid most of the damage done by the white blouse. In stark contrast to this however, the addition of the academy cloak actually added to the aesthetic of my armor. This was one of the rare few instances I had to thank the armor. I thought to myself with a sly grin. Whilst nothing to write home about compared to the bespoke GUN-inspired hood and cape courtesy of Mifis, it at least added to the aesthetic rather than detracting from it. A fact that Ilunor was hesitant to bring up, but something that Thalmin was very much vocal about. ¡°You¡¯re one to speak, Emma.¡± He began with a grumble. ¡°You manage to keep your identity, whilst bolstering it with a mantle that complements your knight¡¯s visage.¡± ¡°What can I say, I guess I¡¯m just built different.¡± I shot back with a sly smile. Only for that back and forth to be interrupted by a certain bull. As he not only walked past us, but purposely bumped into both Thalmin and I. This unexpected slight, given how light it was, wasn¡¯t immediately countered by the EVI. However, before I could vocalize a response, something else came into view that prompted my attention. As a certain ferret appeared, alongside his three peer-mates, with one woman in particular seemingly the most peeved amidst the entire group. [A75 LADY ILPHIUS SELEAT] ¡°Third-ranked house, and yet, their arrival is sorely behind fourth-ranked.¡± The large serpent-like woman spoke, with Etholin in the background seemingly powerless to stop her, even if he did shoot the woman a sharp gaze. ¡°Tell me, what was it that truly made you better, hmm? Oh, I do not blame Lord Rularia, nor his wolven compatriot, or even your tainted fellow. Nononono. My issue lies in the one-trick act that is entirely suited for fourth-rate status. One that your friends have since artificially lifted you from.¡± She seethed, her voice hissing with frustration, the scales on her form glistening to the tune of several distinct mana radiations. Her hood, flaring, revealing patterns both natural and unnatural within their interior confines. It felt as if another contender was about to make a scene out of their frustrations. But thankfully, that was not to be. As another, formerly unassuming student finally came to untangle the sour web of fervent accusations and unrestrained vitriol. A student, who¡¯d formerly been hidden firmly in the shadows of his cloaked outfit, but was now proudly on display as a being that the EVI had yet to have classified, save for his name and title. [A74 LORD TELEOS LOPHIME] The man was tall, about Qiv¡¯s height, just about rivalling the armor¡¯s, but was built in a way that I could only describe as wiry yet fit. His skin was a deep red, though ¡®skin¡¯ was a debatable descriptor for it, as it partially shone and shimmered in the light of the morning sun. Zooming in, small aquatic scales were seen where otherwise mammalian skin should be. What¡¯s more, his face was the most notable out of the rest of his features. As I was momentarily met with two golden pupils, set against a jet-black sclera, that swung back and forth between my lenses and the offending snake¡¯s. This was not to mention the anglerfish-like lure that emerged just above his brow ridge, one which seemed to lack any shine to it at this point. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± Was all he said, in a deep and resonant voice. ¡°But Lord Lophime¡ª¡± ¡°I said. Let¡¯s go.¡± He reiterated, refusing to take no for an answer as he grabbed the snake¡¯s wrist, pulling her out of the hallway and into the classroom. Etholin soon followed suit. But not without a barely audible ¡®apologies¡¯ that he mouthed in my general direction. That¡­ was already a lot to unpack. But time marched onwards as we eventually found ourselves once more within Vanavan¡¯s classroom. Though this time, everyone seemed to once again be busy sorting themselves into the new seating arrangements. ¡°I must apologize.¡± Vanavan began. ¡°But given the conclusion of the house choosing ceremony, we must now return to the traditional manner in which seating arrangements are conducted.¡± He explained, garnering a series of moans and groans that refused to die down, until both Qiv and Auris raised their voices. Twenty minutes had passed before we were able to acquire our new house-seats. Following which, homework was delivered to the front of the class, courtesy of both Ping and Qiv who seemed to compete amongst each other for the gathering of homework. Qiv was the one to receive my printed-out homework. His eyes grew with suspicion as his gaze swung back and forth between my hands and the paper in front of me. ¡°Good morning, students! Now that we¡¯re all settled, let us begin today¡¯s lecture.¡± Vanavan¡¯s voice¡­ was practically drowned out by the ambient noises of the world following that line. As I turned to the EVI with a loud sigh, properly muted from the outside world. ¡°EVI, I wish there was a way for us to fast forward through class.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± Chapter 117: Academic Dishonesty Grand Concourse of Learning. Betreyan¡¯s Hall. Local Time: 1155 Hours. Professor Vanavan Music blared behind the hall¡¯s heavy-set doors, marking the end to a class that felt as if it had barely even begun. So sudden was this passage in time, that I could even attribute its anomalous pace to the involvement of the most impossible of magics ¡ª chronomancy. The involvement of which¡­ wouldn¡¯t have been so out of place, given the weeks¡¯ preceding events; inadvertently catalyzed by a single party. My eyes turned to the aforementioned source of the past week¡¯s blights. The purveyor of crisis upon crisis. The very reason why this morning¡¯s class had felt so¡­ brisk. The Blue Knight. It was her lack of involvement in today¡¯s class that had restored a sense of equilibrium and balance, a state of normalcy to the morning¡¯s lecture. And it was likewise her incessant involvement that had brought about a week of veritable chaos, and the scrutiny of both forces and interests outside of our control. A silent war was now well underway in the back alleys of social intrigue, between the crossroads of academia and noble ambitions. A war, which while ostensibly started by the earthrealmer, was one which she was not privy to. As the battles were fought not with steel nor fists, but with words and ink. Battles which I would continue to fight. If only to fulfil my oaths and promises, to a being I had both successfully managed to analyze yet woefully failed to predict. My eyes quickly glanced down at the unfinished letter sitting beneath the pile of homework, a nearly-finished rebuttal to the Inner Guard Captain Anoyaruous Frital, as she continued to push forth for an investigation which was soon to proceed into its next phase. A phase which would necessitate the involvement of an indisposed party. A party which was now in the process of¡ª TOO-TOO-TOOOOT! CLINK-CLINK-CLINK!
Grand Concourse of Learning. Betreyan¡¯s Hall. Local Time: 1200 Hours. Qiv ¡°Class is dismissed! You may all be excused for lunch in the grand dining hall.¡± The professor spoke softly, or at least, that¡¯s what it always felt like when the man was up against anything marginally louder than a stray whisper. I silenced those thoughts as quickly as they arose however. As in spite of my¡­ personal reservations on the man¡¯s character, this did not detract from his place within the de-facto hierarchy, and his natural position as a Crownlands-born elf. Authority and rank. Title and birthright. Inalienable aspects of the greater game which one simply could not ignore, not even for a character as weak as his own. As character alone hardly spoke much for an individual¡¯s capacity if Ping and Booker were of any indication. The former of which now stood up promptly, corralling his own cohort as I did my own, as we slowly filed out of the hall. Though irrelevant to the growing games of Academy intrigue, I couldn¡¯t help but to focus on the newrealmer¡¯s¡­ strangeness on this day. A strangeness which began the moment I laid my eyes upon her homework, and one which continued on throughout the course of the morning¡¯s lecture. I could however attribute the latter to the newrealmer¡¯s gradual attunement to the social decorum of Nexian academia. As even beings with the thickest of skulls had the capacity to learn and adapt, if only to survive within hostile new environments. Though it was the former matter that had truly lodged itself within the back of my mind. And not for any real concern over the content nor quality of her homework. No. Instead¡­ my concerns lay with the medium through which they were delivered. Her words. Or more specifically, her handwriting. And her apparent mastery over Nexian calligraphy. Utilizing high script, sans abbreviations, sans simplistic reduction, with not one apparent use of shorthand even when it was socially appropriate. When combined with her newrealmer status, and the purposeful lack of meaningful time to prepare what would otherwise take the most gifted of scribes decades to master, her few pages of homework served not as a passing oddity, but a window into a baffling mystery. The simplest solution to this debacle ¡ª that she merely used a bespoke enchanted pen ¡ª was preposterous. Even ignoring the apparent ¡®shielding¡¯ of mana granted by her armor ¡ª thus relinquishing any and all ability to interact with enchanted items ¡ª there was still the matter of intent behind her script. Yes, each and every letter was perfect. But the fact that each and every letter, of each and every word was written in highscript? With all of the flourishes and serifs that came with it? This¡­ was near obsessive degrees of penmanship. Which could only imply that she had either been specifically trained, or held some form of impregnable iron-willed discipline. The likes of which were only comparable to the zealous intensity of Ping¡¯s piety. But perhaps I was merely overthinking things. Perhaps this was simply just a question of practiced skill. Perhaps there really wasn¡¯t anything more to ponder. But when one factors in the newrealmer¡¯s proclivities for the eccentric¡­ this unexpected development provided yet another aspect of her being to be wary of. As¡­ whatever it was that lay beneath that armor, was a dormant threat lying in waiting. A sleeping dragon whose capacity for the impossible was only rivaled by their discipline. Even if that discipline seemed lacking in much of their social interactions. ¡°Lord Ratom?¡± A voice suddenly brought me out of my reverie; a soft, high-pitched, purposefully inoffensive voice. ¡°Yes, Lord Rostarion?¡± I replied politely, turning towards the diminutive, round rodent-like creature. ¡°Are you feeling well?¡± ¡°Why yes, I was merely¡­¡± I paused, my eyes locking onto the newrealmer¡¯s sudden jolt in the midst of her stride, as if she was suddenly taken over by a ghost or a spirit. ¡°... pondering a few matters.¡± The small furry mage shot a look towards the ragtag group in question, his eyes leveling if only for a moment, relaying the true thoughts behind that inoffensive facade. ¡°They are no threat to us, Lord Ratom. I can guarantee you this.¡± He stated in no uncertain terms beneath a veil of secrecy. ¡°Practically? Yes. They seem to be learning their place. Refusing to compete in the accumulation of points even when they very well could. However, it is not the matter of practical competition which concerns me.¡± This answer brought about the raised brow ridges of the black-furred winged Airit and the ever-tired brown-furred Uven, the latter of which seemed to have woken through their perpetual daze if only for this subject matter. ¡°It is the¡­ unpredictable and enigmatic nature of their newrealmer compatriot that I am most concerned with.¡± I stated in no uncertain terms. ¡°A weakfielder who works primarily with parlor tricks.¡± Airit responded with a dismissive chuff. ¡°Believe me, Lord Qiv, even the enigmatic have their limits. We have already witnessed this during the House Choosing Ceremony, where the newrealmer barely even participated when she had the chance to; a tell-tale sign that she is capable of nothing else. In short, I believe this newrealmer is no different from those overly-ambitious candidates that have come before her. For despite all of her bluster, she is nothing more than a fire that burns bright. Just as with any bright flame, there will come a point where it snuffs itself out.¡± The shatorealmer ended off her tirade with a gleeful grin, wrapping her membranous-winged arms around her shoulders in that signature Shatorealmer display of pride. ¡°I suppose so.¡± I acknowledged with a nod, not willingly dismissing the fiery response of the shatorealmer just yet. ¡°I know so.¡± She followed up with a sly grin, her eyes locking not on the newrealmer, but on her tainted partner. ¡°The only class which the newrealmer excels in will soon be her downfall. For the first of the specialized gauntlet shall start, and depending on Professor Chiska¡¯s inclinations, it may very well begin with the gauntlet of flight. Her brutish inclinations may have served her well for the duration of the introductory challenges. But when it comes to the gauntlets which hedge on these natural latent gifts, we shall soon witness the beginnings of her burnout. This shall leave only the tainted avinor as my only meaningful challenge. And I will be more than happy to disprove her so-called ¡®greater¡¯ status.¡± There was a venom to Airit¡¯s voice that I rarely observed, which prompted me to both clear my throat, and deliver her a stern glare. ¡°I understand the temptation, Lady Airus. Emotions, most notably those stemming from undue scorn, elicited by an even greater unearned slight, are powerful motivators which can overpower even the most disciplined of minds.¡± I began, eliciting a narrowing of the shatorealmer¡¯s eyes. ¡°But I cannot in my good conscience allow emotion and emotion alone to govern your actions.¡± ¡°So you would shield the avinor from my earned vengeance?¡± She seethed. ¡°I would shield us from the repercussions of pursuing a course motivated entirely by emotion and bias.¡± I countered. ¡°Do not forget, Lady Airus, that this rivalry between your kind and the avinor is but a Nexian ruse. The colloquialism that is Lesser Avinor, was one given to you by a third party. It is, and has never been, one willingly endorsed by the Avinor proper.¡± There was a pause, as I allowed Rostario to follow up on this explanation, reinforcing my claims with peer support. ¡°It is an unfortunate slight which purveys all diplomatic endeavors, but it is one that should be ignored, Lady Airus.¡± The inoffensive rodent surmised. ¡°Allow the tainted one to make her own blunders. For no amount of learned decorum, nor self-restraint, will prevent her taint from becoming the crux of her eventual downfall.¡± ¡°Lord Rularia¡¯s group¡­ is a house of cards.¡± Uven finally chimed in. ¡°A tainted bomb on a short fuse. Consisting of an eccentric newrealmer with more fire than she has fuel to maintain it, a mercenary prince who struggles in polite society, and a petite minister whose ambitions have far outstripped his capabilities; Nexian as they may be.¡± ¡°Lord Rularia has truly miscalculated his goals at Transgracia. But I cannot blame him. For his calculations were based on what had previously been an assured investment ¡ª the personal approach to overlordship of a newrealm. It just so happens however, that this newrealmer candidate has proven to be anything but typical of the norm for newrealms.¡± I shrugged. ¡°But I digress, the man will become but a casualty of his own ambitions. Though if we play our hand correctly, we may still be able to salvage something of a bond, if only with the Nexian wishing to flee his sinking vessel.¡± I shifted my path following that speech, turning back towards the classroom. ¡°Ensure our table is prepared for lunch. I need to have a word with Professor Vanavan.¡±
The Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 1205 Hours. Thacea The sudden jolt and shuddering of armor amidst a purposeful stride¡­ was both peculiar and gravely concerning. However, I garnered no more clues from Emma¡¯s visage as to this sudden misstep from her opaque lenses and featureless face. It was only after we¡¯d sat down that I focused my attention towards her, but only after the application of a privacy screen and the arrival of our meals. ¡°Emma, are you feeling alright?¡± The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Emma Shift up, shift down, right arm, left arm, turn, then sync, aaaand sharp left, and¡ª ¡°FUCK!¡± I ¡®fell¡¯ down into an infinite chasm, or at least, I felt like I did. As I found myself waking up in one of the worst ways possible ¡ª by tripping and ¡®falling¡¯ in my dream. Forcing me back to the world of the waking with a violent gasp for air and a screeching skip in my heart¡¯s rhythm. I had barely enough time to recover from that before I was thrust into yet another mini-nightmare in the world of the waking, as I felt both arms and legs, and my whole body moving autonomously against my otherwise groggy will. However, unlike that¡­ body-snatcher nightmare sequence with the null, this automatic movement lurched to a slow and gradual halt the moment the EVI detected Operator Mechanical Resistance, or OMR. The gradual return of bodily autonomy and the transfer of motor privileges occurred over the course of seconds, as the EVI tried its best to follow the meticulously-programmed motor function transferral processes. Practically speaking, this meant that each and every movement felt sluggish at first, a preventive measure against operator error, saving an operator from the embarrassment of falling face-first into the dirt upon rousing from unconsciousness. This was because you had to really fight against the armor to regain control. With every movement of every joint feeling as if they were caked in a thick layer of oobleck, instead of the industry-grade variable-resistance-lubricant they were always swimming in. In short, it felt like I was being forced through one of those in-armor exercise programs where artificial resistance was added to mimic weight training. All of this was to say: it felt really weird. Especially since all of this was happening just as I was thrust into the waking world. In the middle of a walk. But thankfully, I was trained for this. ¡°Your controls.¡± ¡°My controls.¡± Despite it being something that was very much not recommended in typical operations, this in-field bootup sequence was something that the LREF¡¯s Rangers pioneered as part of their tactical training regimen. Complete malarkey. Was what Aunty Ran usually called it. But then again, that was the TSEC marine in her talking. Interbranch rivalry always did end up boiling down to poking fun at the weirder ¡®quirks¡¯ found in each respective branch. It was the easiest thing to joke about after all. It makes sense why the long-range pleasure-cruise forces decided on it. What do you think they do on their Long Patrols other than sleep? Of course they¡¯d be the ones to pioneer sleeping in armor as a valid strat! ¡°Emma?¡± Thacea finally spoke, pulling me out of my daze as I found that I¡¯d auto-piloted onto our usual table for lunch. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°Ah, yeah! Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m just a bit tired from last night.¡± I managed out through an awkward chuckle, as I instinctively moved to rub my eyes. Only to once again bonk my armored hands against the metal of my faceplate. It was small moments like these that made things really frustrating. Because while haptic feedback was available on every part of my body covered by the undersuit, my face and eyes were tantalizingly out of range. Just don¡¯t even think about having an itchy nose. I sighed inwardly. With the group¡¯s concerns satiated, and with everyone now talking amongst themselves, I soon focused instead on the more pertinent task at hand ¡ª catching up on class. ¡°EVI, give me the SparkleNotes version of Magic Theory class please.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. INTSUM (Intel Summary) is as follows¡­ 1. There exist 29 distinct forms of mana.¡± ¡°Yeah, that fits in line with what we know.¡± I noted, grabbing a nutripaste tube in the process. ¡°Except for the mystery ¡®plus one¡¯ type that we need to get to the bottom of. Continue?¡± ¡°2. Each form of mana corresponds to an elemental form of magic. ¡®Elemental¡¯ is disambiguated as ¡®fundamental¡¯, and not limited to the classical elements of wind, fire, earth, and water.¡± ¡°Ah. Classic Vanavan ¡ª semantics upon semantics.¡± ¡°3. The origin of all elemental mana is pure mana, henceforth designated as ¡®Type 1¡¯, also referred to by VANAVAN as ¡®Primavalic Energies¡¯.¡± This finally caught my attention as I began adjusting myself within the core of the armor. ¡°Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have slept-in after all. Keep going.¡± ¡°4. Type 1 mana is derived entirely from the primavale. Purportedly ¡ª the Nexus¡¯ unique disc-like shape is conducive to the natural flow and cycling of primavalic energies.¡± I¡­ had no response to that, as I watched as an annotated version of the Nexus¡¯ supposed shape ¡ª a flat disc ¡ª was shown to me on the HUD. ¡°5. All mana, but primarily Type 1 mana, emerges through the ¡®bottom¡¯ of the Nexus, through its geological layers, and through discrete openings known as manasprings.¡± The conspiracy-theory-grade diagram continued, showing what looked to be something superficially analogous to the geomagnetic field lines of planets¡­ except this was more fountain-like than anything, as this mysterious primavalic energy flowed up and through the Nexus¡¯ flat disc, and out through distinct points encircling the center of the disc. ¡°6. Each ¡®manaspring¡¯, owing to its location and nature, has a natural inclination toward one distinct form of mana. As primavalic energies have a tendency to take on elemental form as they travel through the Nexus¡¯ geological layers.¡± An example of this was quickly shown on screen, as the recording of Vanavan quickly sketched out the same fiery volcanic realm we saw in one of the souvenir shop¡¯s snow globes, denoting it as an infernium realm positioned at the edges of the crownlands; its fiery geography and ecology having formed as a result of its proximity to a manaspring rich in Type 2 mana. ¡°7. There are at least 28 major manasprings within the Nexus, all of which are positioned around the crownlands. Each with a specific inclination towards one of the 28 forms of elemental mana. Though each manawell still exudes an equivalent amount of type 1 mana.¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± I acknowledged warily, wrapping my mouth around the oral induction port as I slowly chewed on the semi-solid baby food. ¡°8. In contrast to this, adjacent realms derive their primavalic energies through the tears naturally present in their skies, thus limiting them to a less refined and less reliable source of mana. Though some realms, owing to their similarities to the Nexus¡¯ cosmological model, derive their primavalic energies from beneath the earth from their very own primavales.¡± My eyes narrowed at this, as I shot a gaze towards Thalmin, remembering what he had to say about his realm¡¯s local cosmology, and their beliefs on the skies. ¡°9. Vanavan notes that the first of the elemental mana-types being that of flame, correlates with the rise of some of the first magically-inclined beasts ¡ª the dragons. Subsequent classes will cover each specific form of mana as the year progresses.¡± ¡­ I simply remained silent as my eyes went up and down those points, realizing that the class had gone from 0 to 100 real quick, especially when considering how introductory the last class was. Beyond the class itself though, its contents seemed to have just reaffirmed Ilunor¡¯s outrageous claims. Hearing it from the Vunerian was one thing, but hearing it from Vanavan of all people somehow hammered home the reality of the situation. That the Nexus, at least from the perspective of their own narrative, was in fact a literal discworld in a bottle. A bottle that seemed to contain an endless source of magical energy. I¡­ had to take a moment to process all of that. As I ate in silence, once more leaving the armor to auto-pilot as I wiggled about inside of it, or as much as I could anyways. ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m assuming you actually sense the mana coming from your skies?¡± I finally blurted out, my question aimed towards both Thacea and Thalmin, who both looked to each other curiously, before turning towards me with a raise of their brows. ¡°Ever the studious one I see.¡± Thalmin first replied with a grin.¡± If you are referring to the seepage of pure mana into our realms, then yes, Emma. Though I can only speak for my realm, as tapesteric principles differ from realm to realm.¡± Thalmin began. ¡°However, to get back to your point, yes. We can actually visualize it in a way, though it¡¯s¡­ difficult to describe considering how you can¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, I just wanted to quickly double check Vanavan¡¯s claims.¡± I justified, shifting my gaze once again back towards the man¡¯s insane illustrations. What the hell is going on? I thought to myself, before once again being brought back down to earth by the arrival of the elven waiter. ¡°Ah, thank you.¡± Thacea acknowledged, reaching for one of the glasses awkwardly positioned on his serving tray. ¡°Allow me.¡± I interjected, reaching for that same glass in an attempt to play the chivalrous knight¡­ just as another student nearly crossed paths with my swing-around. [A74 LORD TELEOS LOPHIME] The red-scaled fish man glared at me for that perceived slight, his two golden pupils glowing softly in the afternoon sun. ¡°Sorry about that¡ª¡± ¡°I request that you pay more attention to your surroundings. Your bumbling actions very nearly resulted in me being soaked.¡± The man hmphed aggressively, but in a way that felt more akin to one of Thalmin¡¯s growls, rather than one of Ilunor¡¯s squealing hisses. ¡°Again, sorry.¡± I managed out meekly, just as the man turned to leave towards his table of three. ¡°Still not enough sleep, earthrealmer?¡± Ilunor shot back dismissively. ¡°No, no. I¡¯m just¡­ still trying to process what the heck the Nexus is all about.¡±
The Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 1245 Hours. Teleos ¡°This newrealmer is a frustrating beast.¡± I began, my hands drumming up against the white tablecloth of the dining table. ¡°And yet you seem to halt my attempts at serving her the proper justice she so deserves¡ª¡± ¡°I am halting you from dragging our peer group through unnecessary conflicts, Ilphius.¡± I shot back coldly, causing the serpentine female to recoil. ¡°You will address me by my titles for you have yet to have earned the right to¡ª¡± ¡°Lady Seleat, please.¡± Etholin managed out through a tired breath. ¡°Teleos is correct. We cannot and should not blame the earthrealmer¡¯s successes for our own failures. We simply were not able to accrue the necessary points in order to achieve third-house status.¡± ¡°We put in our all.¡± Ilphius hissed. ¡°So much so that it drained Daltor of his energies.¡± ¡°And yet we failed.¡± I acknowledged with a shrug. This¡­ garnered yet another glare of ire from the snake. ¡°How can you be so calm about¡ª¡± She paused, as a crooked smile formed across her visage. ¡°I see. Both of you have your own games to play, don¡¯t you?¡± She hissed playfully, before turning to the Rantolisrealmer. ¡°Especially you. It is more about earning business partners than it is about learning anything fruitful. Moreover, it is about earning new trade vassals in the form of economically-weaker newrealms now, isn¡¯t it? Perhaps you are too afraid of standing up for your personal pride and dignity, instead trading both away in order to placate the emotions of your new client state.¡± She tutted. ¡°Perhaps I truly am the fool here then. A fool¡­ for wishing to do well in school.¡±
Grand Concourse of Learning. Betreyan¡¯s Hall. Local Time: 1645 Hours. Qiv The majority of class was once more marked by rather elementary topics meant to raise those of lesser adjacencies to the standards of those with learned intent. Though a small minority of the time was used to demonstrate those very topics. Of which both Ping and I were more than happy to oblige. The demonstration of both pure mana and its conversion to its infernium form, as well as several back and forths between myself and the brutish Ping, resulted in the destruction of several drapes which the professor seemed to acknowledge as being an unspoken rite of passage. Auris¡­ somehow earned more points for his bullish nature. A fact that both baffled and infuriated me, especially as that mindless beast shot me a dismissive glare. Our back and forths had increased following the conclusion of the House Choosing Ceremony, as the announcement for Class Sovereign rapidly approached. Though with the absence of the black-robed professor, only His Eternal Majesty knows exactly when this would take place. Once again, another frustrating development from an ever aberrant year. However, my efforts quickly shifted as Professor Vanavan now approached the assignment of this week¡¯s homework. As this would prove to be the only and most viable point for me to address that growing itch at the back of my mind. ¡°Professor, if I may?¡± ¡°Yes, Lord Ratom?¡± Our prior conversations during lunch had preempted this exchange. So I needn¡¯t say much to prompt him for this next act. ¡°I wish to propose a point of contention, towards the apparent¡­ aberrancies present in Cadet Emma Booker¡¯s homework.¡± This declaration brought about a few murmurs, as the professor nodded warily, grabbing hold of the papers in question. Papers¡­ which themselves were quite distinct from the fine silken reliefs found on most typical Nexian documents. ¡°Cadet Emma Booker, would you mind addressing this?¡± The professor clearly kept the point of contention vague, so as to keep the newrealmer on the backfoot. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ my assignment, professor?¡± She responded, clearly agitated, confused, and very dearly underprepared for this assault. ¡°Is there a problem with it or¡ª¡± ¡°Merely an observation with regards to the medium by which your answers were delivered.¡± The elf continued, once again causing the newrealmer growing confusion, if that animalistic cocking of her head was of any indication. I could only wonder what manner of creature lay underneath that armor; that material overcompensation for civilized decorum. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t follow, Professor.¡± The newrealmer acquiesced. Music to my ears. ¡°It is with regards to your peculiar use of High Nexian, Cadet Emma Booker. For there is¡­ an anomalously high degree of calligraphic skill on display within these pages.¡± ¡°Erm, thank you?¡± ¡°It is as much a compliment as it is a question of the authenticity behind its authorship. Now, I do not doubt the content within, as any student could simply reference texts from the school¡¯s library to do so. No, I wish to simply confirm the legitimacy of its authorship, by requesting that you write today¡¯s assignment up on the board in the same High-Script as you have done on these pages.¡± I expected some form of hesitation to arise within the newrealmer¡¯s response. But there was none to be had. Instead, she simply stood up, requested that she approach the front, and then promptly arrived next to the professor. From there, she was handed an enchanted piece of chalk. Which she promptly declined, instead requesting chalk of the unenchanted variety. This¡­ elicited a series of gasps from the class, as she now took to the blackboard¡¯s ladder, and began relaying the professor¡¯s words into written form verbatim. It was then¡­ that I saw an artist¡¯s hand at work. As each and every stroke of her five-fingered hands, and each and every twist of her wrists, were nothing short of perfect. So much so that not a single discrepancy seemed to exist between each chalk-stroke, even as the multi-pronged serifs and infamously complicated characters were requested at the behest of the professor. In fact, she went so far as to approach the dreaded five-headed dragon-like character that was Filch, in such a way that I¡¯d hazard to even tackle myself. Moreover, this perfection wasn¡¯t merely a result of sacrificing time for the sake of quality. No. It was being done¡­ at the pace of the professor¡¯s speech. ¡­ ¡°And that is all for this week¡¯s assignments.¡± The professor spoke proudly, but ended up blinking in confusion as the newrealmer went beyond the scope of duty by transcribing those words onto the blackboard. ¡°You needn¡¯t have added that, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Oh, sorry. I can start over if you¡¯d like¡ª¡± ¡°Nono! This is¡­ quite alright. I appreciate your enthusiasm and your academic integrity. Moreover, I wish to express that it was never in doubt. Merely that I wished to see your calligraphy in action.¡± The professor continued, garnering a silent nod from the newrealmer as she left the front of the class. Just in time for the band to enter through those heavy-set doors. As if to serenade the earthrealmer¡¯s small victory, inflating it to something far larger than it should have been. Chapter 118: Draconic Repercussions Grand Concourse of Learning. Betreyan¡¯s Hall. Local Time: 1645 Hours. Emma I really couldn¡¯t blame Qiv nor Vanavan for this dual-pronged ambush. If anything, I would¡¯ve done the same if I was in their shoes. In fact, I¡¯d even go so far as to say that this was one of the few times I could objectively see myself as the villain in their stories. Because as much as I could attempt to justify it, this victory and comeback was definitely the furthest away you could get from academic integrity. A fact that bore little on my conscience as a mission commander, scouting operative, and forward diplomat¡­ but one that definitely made me feel a bit antsy as a ¡®student¡¯. [TASK COMPLETE: SPEECH-TO-TEXT DICTATION IN HIGH NEXIAN FROM SUBJECT ¡®PROFESSOR VANAVAN¡¯.] VIs weren¡¯t explicitly forbidden from academia. However, their role was always to act as an aid rather than a full-blown replacement to the whole academic process. Having your essay completely generated by a VI sorta defeated the purpose of actually writing it in the first place after all. The so-called Academic-Integrity Crises of the mid 21st, early 22nd, and early 23rd centuries was enough to hammer home that message. And it was from those crises that the contemporary relationship between VI and student was formed, and more or less drilled into our conscience from day one of primary school. Though it was important to note that those reforms weren¡¯t one-sided. The fact that there were two whole repeats of the crisis following the first student-centric reforms, demonstrated that both parties ¡ª institutions included ¡ª needed change. If only to finally adapt with the times. It was¡­ a messy process. But such was the case with much of early intrasolar contemporary history. With all that being said though, I could rationalize the iffiness of the whole ¡®blackboard incident¡¯ easily enough. I had delegated homework away after all. So the whole ¡®blackboard¡¯ debacle could be reasoned away as an extension of that. And perhaps a show of cultural respect on the part of the diplomat in me too. Finally, the Academy had shown itself to not be very forthcoming on the whole fairness thing on their end. So why should I play by the rules they so clearly ignored? ¡­ Good faith. I thought to myself. Though once again, that was the optimist and idealist in me talking. An aspect of myself that even the SIOP instructors back home told me not to lose, but merely to circumvent whenever advantageous. There¡¯s a time and a place for everything. Sometimes, you need to adapt. But adaptation doesn¡¯t mean completely abandoning your principles. ¡°Affirmative. Give me my hands back, EVI.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± My hands, thankfully, weren¡¯t actually forced to go through the insane gymnastics that were required of rapid-fire Nexian calligraphy. I would¡¯ve probably sprained something if it was actually inside the confines of the suit¡¯s multi-modal manual manipulators (the M4, or Exo-Dex¡¯s for short). Thankfully, given the suit¡¯s size, my hands were instead safely tucked just above them in the suit¡¯s wrist compartment. But while my hands and conscience were both unharmed¡­ I didn¡¯t really have a plan for the social game I¡¯d inadvertently just won following the whole blackboard debacle. Especially as Vanavan turned to me with that dreaded smile¡ª ¡°Fifty points! To Cadet Emma Booker¡¯s peer group!¡± ¡ªand the points game I desperately wanted to avoid. Though thankfully¡­ TOO-TOOO-TOOOOT! I wouldn¡¯t need to entertain the classroom social games any further. As the end-of-period marching band came in at the nick of time, saving me from the much-dreaded flurry of questions that was sure to follow Qiv¡¯s little gambit. So with a quick nod towards Vanavan and a few fast stomps up the lecture hall¡¯s stairs, I was once again off with the gang in tow, our points now putting us as the seventh group to leave.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 1700 Hours. Emma All eyes¡­ were once again on me. Though thankfully, the topic at hand was one that had already been addressed, several weeks ago by the library in fact. ¡°The exact verbiage used by the library eludes me.¡± Thalmin began, prompting Thacea to quickly chime in. ¡°A living, breathing, dynamic system of mathematics is what the owl observed.¡± She spoke, crossing her arms regally in the process. ¡°I would say I am surprised this applies not only to speech, but to the written word as well.¡± Ilunor continued, pinching the bridge of his snout in the process. ¡°However, at this point, surprise tends to be a foregone conclusion in matters pertaining to you and your Earthrealm tricks.¡± However, unlike the dressing down I received during last week¡¯s point-accruing incidents, Thalmin instead led the charge with an ear-to-ear grin, as he smacked my back hard. ¡°Now that¡¯s the spirit, Emma!¡± He began, cackling hard as he continued to shake my shoulder to and fro. ¡°If the Nexus wishes to issue impossible tasks to newrealmers¡­ then so be it! Wield their precious High Nexian in ways that they can only hope to mimic only a fraction of! Or better yet, surpass them at their own game! Flip the tables not just by meeting their impossible demands¡­ but also humiliate them at their own altar!¡± The lupinor took a moment to compose himself, before continuing on with a few rapid fire words of affirmation. ¡°You¡¯ve made the spirits of newrealm candidates from ages long passed very happy today, Emma.¡± I could practically feel the zeal of satisfaction emanating from the wolf. Moreover, I could actually get where he was coming from. ¡°You know what makes this better, Thalmin?¡± I shot back, eliciting a cock of the lupinor¡¯s head. ¡°The fact that all of this is being done without an ounce of effort on my end, through a manaless artifice feeding off of their language, and regurgitating it back to them with rules I don¡¯t even need to touch.¡± Despite the faceplate in the way, I felt that we actually connected for a moment there, with two grins being exchanged and a solid warrior¡¯s handshake following soon after, pulling each other¡¯s chests together in a solid thump of brotherly camaraderie. Our back-and-forth continued on for a solid few more minutes, with much Nexian dissing being thrown left and right, much to Ilunor¡¯s chagrin and Thacea¡¯s aloofness. The conversation continued for so long that the EVI had to finally step in, revealing the rest of the tasks we had remaining. With one more tired laugh from my end, I eventually turned to the now-snacking Ilunor, and homework-busy Thacea. ¡°Right, so, I¡¯m planning on just approaching Larial this evening after dinner. Does that sound good?¡± ¡°Anything is acceptable so long as we swiftly conclude the library¡¯s incessant treasure hunt.¡± Ilunor grumbled. ¡°My fate is not worth a measly green book.¡± ¡°Understood, Operation: Talk to Larial is a go then. Well, since I have forty-five minutes before dinner starts, I think I¡¯m gonna head out to stretch my legs a bit.¡± I announced, getting up from the couch, and heading first thing towards the door. ¡°May I ask where you¡¯re going, Emma?¡± Thacea finally chimed in, her eyes narrowing, locking onto my lenses. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just visiting a certain someone who I think needs the company.¡± I began cryptically. ¡°Speaking of which¡­ I don¡¯t suppose you happen to have, like, novels and stuff lying around that I can borrow?¡±
Healing Wing. Rila¡¯s Room. Local Time: 1730 Hours. Emma To say I felt conflicted about coming here would be an understatement. Part of me felt like I was a walking disaster magnet. Which made me doubt if even involving myself with Rila was the best way forward. But despite the self-doubt, and the plethora of reasons why I shouldn¡¯t involve myself anymore¡­ I felt like I at least owed it to her to make her life just a little bit better. After all, she wouldn¡¯t even be in this awkward position if it wasn¡¯t for my meddling. I knew I had to make it right by her. So here I was, entering the same room as on that hectic house-choosing ceremony day. Except this time, I didn¡¯t come empty handed. I had books, food, and a whole host of treats in store courtesy of my student privileges. Privileges, which I intended on showering Rila with. ¡°Hiya!¡± I began, setting just about everything on one of the overly-ornate side tables with a thunderous THUD! ¡°How¡¯re you holding up?¡± This¡­ coupled with my sudden and abrupt arrival, seemed enough to startle Rila out of her daydream stupor. The red-haired elf¡¯s eyes growing wide at my arrival, her mouth hanging agape, probably too stunned to speak. ¡°Er, sorry, I thought you were already awake.¡± I apologized awkwardly. ¡°I-it¡¯s nothing to apologize for, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°Hey, didn¡¯t I tell you to drop that?¡± I countered insistently, as I began pouring out both tea and some mystery fizzy water, as well as grabbing all of the sweet treats I¡¯d requisitioned from Ilunor moments earlier. ¡°Ah, yes. Just ¡®Emma¡¯.¡± Rila replied with a nod, her eyes growing wide at the veritable feast coming her way. ¡°Are those¡ª¡± ¡°Yup! I got these on recommendation from a certain noble foodie. Or, shall I say, I kinda took the liberty of just grabbing them from under his nose.¡± I cut the former apprentice off cheekily, garnering a look of grave concern that was only rivalled by the sheer dread on her face on the night of the warehouse explosion. ¡°If you¡¯re worried about me being reprimanded, then don¡¯t be! Let¡¯s just say I have him on a tight leash.¡± I preemptively addressed Rila¡¯s concerns with a wink, translating this to a cock of my head and some wild hand gestures. This¡­ seemed to do little to calm the former trade apprentice¡¯s nerves however, which prompted me to simply set the breakfast-in-bed tray in front of her, following it up with some more words of encouragement. ¡°Seriously, don¡¯t worry about it, Rila. I¡¯m starting to gain a grip on things here, and the noble in question is just a friend from my peer group, so don¡¯t sweat it. Besides, considering everything that¡¯s happened¡­ I for one am willing to go above and beyond to make your stay here as comfortable as¡ª¡± ¡°W-why?¡± She muttered out, cutting me off just as I was about to finish. ¡°Hmm? Why what?¡± ¡°Why¡­ are you being so¡­ accommodating?¡± ¡°Well¡­ for starters, you¡¯re one of the few people I¡¯ve actually started a pretty decent rapport with here, and I was hoping we could be friends. Or at least, acquaintances. Either way, human hospitality goes a long way with people we find to be amenable.¡± I paused, before pulling in closer, cupping a hand next to where my mouth should¡¯ve been. ¡°Trust me on this one. We can go to huge lengths to shower the people we like with stuff that we hope they like.¡± I spoke cheerily, before going down the inevitable pipeline to the more¡­ somber answer. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°And secondly¡­ it was kinda my fault that you were wrapped up in this whole mess.¡± I sighed, gripping my forehead in the process. ¡°I can¡¯t say I was a fan of the life you were leading, but my personal reservations aside, I kinda derailed your own path in life in the worst and most unintentional way possible. Which is totally unacceptable. Not to mention by getting involved, I became the inadvertent cause of your injuries.¡± I gestured to the bed, and the room around us. ¡°So being ¡®accommodating¡¯ is really the least I can do to repay you for my blunders, Rila.¡± A small pause punctuated that explanation. One, in which Rila took a moment to turn inwards, before turning back to me with an expression of even greater befuddlement. ¡°You speak as if you owe me a life-debt, Emma.¡± She began, her brows furrowed in confusion. ¡°When it is I who should be the party beholden to such reciprocities.¡± She offered, taking longer to form those words than I would¡¯ve assumed. That answer¡­ definitely took me by surprise. The whole dynamic I¡¯d formed in my head, and the way I¡¯d framed this whole situation, was now refusing to compute with what Rila had just laid out. ¡°But¡­ it was my meddling that caused¡ª¡± ¡°We were both at the whims of the greater game that day.¡± Rila interjected, finally garnering the energy to speak up. ¡°It was Lord Lartia who wished to take us down a path of uncertain fates. It was likewise the other noble present, who chose to ignore your warnings. Even disregarding your attempts to physically alter the predetermined course of events, you chose to shield me from the worst of it.¡± Rila spoke earnestly, her eyes moving up to meet my lenses. ¡°Or have you forgotten that fact?¡± I moved to speak¡­ but it was my turn to be unable to formulate a proper response. ¡°I guess¡­ I just thought that saving you was like, the least I could do to make up for¡ª¡± ¡°There was nothing to make up for, Emma.¡± Rila countered bluntly. Which prompted me to nod and sigh in response. ¡°I see.¡± A small pause once again punctuated that exchange, before a smile once more found itself on my visage. ¡°Well, regardless, that doesn¡¯t change the fact that I¡¯m going to be as ¡®accommodating¡¯ as I can be! That is, of course, if you¡¯re alright with it.¡± ¡°But, why¡ª¡± ¡°There¡¯s a reason why I didn¡¯t lead with the guilt or reciprocity thing, Rila. It¡¯s because I genuinely just wanna be¡­ nice? Without any of the associated baggage Nexians would typically attach to it?¡± I offered with a shrug, prompting a slow blink of the elf¡¯s eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t think that this is totally unheard of right? Like, it can¡¯t all be cut-throat all the time, now can it?¡± ¡°It isn¡¯t, Emma.¡± Rila acknowledged. ¡°But such altruism, or at least altruism without strings, is only seen amongst those with nothing to gain and nothing to lose.¡± The elf took another moment to ponder her own words, before coming to some internal conclusion which finally elicited a smile. ¡°But I suppose such as to be expected from an impossible realm of earned respect.¡± The elf took another moment to ponder things, before finally continuing the conversation with a heavy sigh. ¡°Part of me refuses to believe your claims of that impossible realm. Even though I have been nothing short of enamored by the concept following our first fateful exchange on that night. Everything in this world, points to your words being empty and vapid. Yet everything I¡¯ve seen of you, and the actions you purvey, points to the truth being completely contrary to what should be expected.¡± She began rambling, pinching the bridge of her nose in the process. ¡°It is¡­ a lot to ponder, but ultimately, perhaps against my better judgement, I would be more than happy to continue entertaining this impossibility.¡± A larger smile slowly formed across the elf¡¯s face, as she began taking a bite out of one of Ilunor¡¯s danishes; her features practically lit up shortly thereafter. ¡°A world where commoners dare to stand toe to toe with high-borns, is one I most certainly wish to hear more about.¡± Rila practically beamed out. The next few minutes marched on with far less friction, as the path of conversation was greased both with good will and good food in equal measures. However, just when it came time to leave, a topic which I¡¯d initially shunted to the back of my mind quickly emerged. ¡°There is another matter I¡¯d like to quickly touch on, Emma, brief as it is.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°In the minutes following the explosion, there was an¡­ amethyst dragon that emerged from the depths, correct?¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s right. What about it?¡± ¡°I am not sure if this was a dream, or a hallucination induced by my injuries, but did it¡­ fixate its attention on us following its escape?¡± I quickly turned to the EVI, grabbing the footage of that night, as those gemstone-like eyes unmistakably locked onto my lenses. ¡°On me in particular, but yeah, I guess that¡¯s close enough.¡± I answered confidently. ¡°Why do you ask?¡± Rila¡¯s features darkened for a moment, her gaze veering off out and towards the balcony, before turning back towards me with a wary expression. ¡°And it actually looked at you? As in, not a mere passing glance?¡± ¡°Would five solid seconds of staring fit the description?¡± I immediately responded, prompting a look of genuine concern to form on Rila¡¯s features. ¡°Is that like a bad thing or¡ª¡± ¡°It could mean a great many things, Emma.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Some of which are good, but most¡­ not so much.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± ¡°Though I cannot for the life of me imagine why it would be fixated on beings so outside of its immediate concern.¡± The elf continued. ¡°I am by no means an expert on dragons, but from my limited understanding, dragons never interact with individuals without good reason. This is why they exclusively interact with Highborns, those that have the power to influence the destiny of kingdoms, and the fates of continents. Even so, these interactions are often mostly bestial. Why¡­ why would it have been fixated on you of all people, Emma?¡± ¡°Well¡­ I guess I¡¯ll have my answer soon enough.¡±
North Rythian Forests. Outlands. Nexus. Local Time: 1755 Sym the Honeydew Egh! EUGH! ¡°Giant mushrooms¡­¡± I spoke through a heavy snot-filled sneeze. ¡°I swear, their spores are the work of the old heathen gods. Sometimes I wish His Eternal Majesty would¡¯ve finished the job by utterly annihilating these forests.¡± ¡°His Eternal Majesty¡¯s earned His rest, boss.¡± The winged Thulvahn replied with a chuckle. ¡°Besides, with the rate the realm¡¯s expandin¡¯, I doubt even His Eternal Majesty¡¯s got the fire to burn down all that new growth, let alone these established forests.¡± The bard chuckled, moving to grab his lute in the process, but not before we turned the corner to find a grisly sight. A mangled party of men-at-arms, their carriages, and their conveyances both artificed and formerly-living. At which point, did everyone move to grab their weapons. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to be sick¡­¡± Kintor spoke under a squeaky breath, holding her daggers at the ready. ¡°Huh. Well¡­ I think we found our trail, boss.¡± Duren Moven announced bluntly, moving forward to nudge one of the mangled corpses with the blunt end of his battle axe. Though this wasn¡¯t done to satisfy morbid curiosity, no. Because after a few seconds of digging around the mass of flesh, was the bear able to uncover what it was I¡¯d hoped to find. A capsa, completely unmarred and untainted by the viscera that was formerly its holder. I had little hesitation in grabbing the gem-encrusted cylinder. As due to some latent enchantment, it seemed completely impervious to the dirtying of the grime and viscera surrounding it. I moved to flick its lid open, generating a satisfying POP, revealing a rolled-up scroll nestled neatly within it. ¡°Official warrant from the Crown and the Privy Council, authorizing an official dragon recapture for those holding royal warrants, yadda yadda yadda¡­ yeah, this is it. That dragon can¡¯t be too far now.¡± This revelation¡­ instead of bringing about a sense of relief from everyone present, instead shook all to their core. But it was none other than Thulvahn who seemed more shaken than others, as he came forward with shaky wings, grabbing me by my pauldrons. ¡°Boss¡­ I hate to say this, but I think we¡¯re in over our heads. T-this¡­ this isn¡¯t worth risking life or limb over. The coin ain¡¯t worth it! Come on¡­ you said it yourself before, right? Don¡¯t let gold cloud your better judgement? Let¡¯s leave while we can. Pay the damned cancellation fine, and avoid being mauled by this dragon that so clearly¡ª¡± ¡°Thulvahn.¡± I shot out firmly. ¡°Get a hold of yourself. There¡¯s a clear difference between these poor sods and our lot. Read the scroll.¡± I shoved the scroll into the man¡¯s hands, as he began reading through it line by line. ¡°Their goal is to recapture the damned thing. Our goal is to merely observe and report.¡± ¡°E-exactly.¡± Kintor acknowledged, putting on a confident smile. ¡°And if there¡¯s one thing we¡¯re good at, it¡¯s running away!¡± ¡°And running away is practically the latter half of our assignment.¡± Duren reaffirmed with a solid nod. With the voices of the party in near unanimity, we pressed onwards. I dearly hope you know what you¡¯re getting yourself into, Blue Knight¡­ I thought to myself silently.
Student Lounge. The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Local Time: 1755. Ping For someone who had declared their self-admitted disinterest in the path to class sovereign, Cadet Emma Booker had most certainly made waves as a result of her latest stunt. And while a slap to Qiv¡¯s face was always appreciated, what I did not appreciate was the latent message her actions had subtly communicated. Newrealmer savage. Primitive. Backwards¡­. Those were the words I¡¯d used on that first eventful week. And they were words that could now be put under scrutiny¡­ For what manner of person could be considered primitive if they so perfectly replicated High Nexian high-script? Would that not be an insult to the learned scribes and scholar-nobles who had otherwise dedicated their lives to the pursuit of civility? Is writing and penmanship not the foundation which underpins civilized society? ¡­ Then again¡­ Could one truly claim that the Arlinian Crab was in any way actually sapient? ¡°My fellows, my fellows! Please, allow me to explain away the¡­ theatrics of this morning¡¯s class!¡± I began, grinning all the while. ¡°There exists, in my realm, a creature known as the Arlinian Crab. A creature with neither a thinking mind nor reaching hands, but a creature which possesses the ability to perfectly mimic all patterns it sees.¡± I moved to demonstrate, revealing several images of this very phenomenon, sight-seers of these sea beasts which through great dedication managed to mimic both signage and script of any nearby signs they saw. With each and every letter, drawn out in the sand to an incredibly accurate degree. ¡°As you can see, the newrealmer could merely be utilizing a latent, animalistic aspect of their inherent biological potential. In an act similar to her¡­ feats during physical education, we see her practicing not the intent of the civilized person, but instead, utilizing the uncivilized functions of her innate animal.¡± ¡°Oh, do we now?¡± An insufferable voice broke through the sea of students, as they parted left and right, allowing the ever-annoying Vunerian to come through. ¡°Lord Ilunor Rularia¡­¡± I huffed out. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure¡ª¡± ¡°I raise a point of contention, Lord Ping.¡± He countered, prompting me to acquiesce with a glare and a shrug. ¡°Proceed?¡± ¡°Exactly how much time does this¡­ silly little crustacean take to mimic but a few letters of High Nexian?¡± He began with his signature vexatiously-pitched breath. ¡°I know not, for I care not to delve into the workings of what is relegated to those stuffy scholars who¡ª¡± ¡°Days, Lord Ping. Days, I say!¡± He continued, practically screeching out this revelation, slamming open a book in the process. ¡°As is written by Scholar Lurens, the Arlinian Crab performs such¡­ elaborate mimicry for the sake of courtship, taking hours if not days to replicate a single line of High-Script! Now, I know not what your perspective of time is like, but I can most certainly say that Cadet Emma Booker¡¯s rapid-paced writing most certainly did not take days, now did it?¡± A series of restrained chuckles arrived in favor of the Vunerian¡¯s words, though many more derisive murmurs came from my most ardent supporters. ¡°Lord Ping was merely making a rough analogy, Lord Rularia!¡± A voice from the crowd shouted. ¡°Yes, yes! There are assuredly more animals similar to the Arlinian crab, but this creature is merely the most readily-known example of such a phenomenon!¡± Another voice came through. This¡­ eventually devolved into an all-out verbal scuffle. One that, disappointingly, was prematurely halted by the call to dinner.
The Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 1940 Hours. Emma I ignored most of the murmurs and whispers of the ¡®writing incident¡¯ for much of dinner. If anything, I spent most of the time catching up on the weekly report, and of course, on the M-REDD experiments which continued to taunt me with its glacial progress. Conversations with the gang were¡­ surprisingly minimal, as it was clear that everyone was simply waiting to get back to the dorms. Though the same couldn¡¯t be said for me, as my eyes were locked on the prize that was frustratingly out of reach. As Mal¡¯tory¡¯s seat ¡ª now Larial¡¯s ¡ª was empty for the entirety of dinner. I¡¯d hoped for some last minute miracle. However, none came. Because as dinner came to a close, so too did the faculty leave without any fuss. And for some reason, they were really booking it today. This prompted me to march towards the nearest apprentice who hadn¡¯t yet followed suit. Though I immediately regretted that decision the moment I realized who I''d approached. ¡°Apprentice LARIAL, now was IT!?¡± Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second enunciated in his typical¡­ theatrical fashion. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m wondering where she¡ª¡± ¡°She is currently¡­ busy. Last I heard, she had attributed her absence to some¡­ inexplicable personal quest!¡± ¡°Right. Could you at least tell me where her office is so that I can maybe leave her a letter or¡ª¡± ¡°NO! You may not!¡± He interjected. ¡°Though I can say that she will be back sometime soon!¡± ¡°Can you at least give me a time and date or¡ª¡± ¡°NO!¡± I breathed in deeply, nodding in acquiescence, taking this one failure of today¡¯s events with some level of grace. Though the same couldn¡¯t be said for Ilunor the moment we arrived back at the dorms.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 2020 Hours. Emma ¡°Ilunor, now I need you to relax.¡± I began, as the dark blue Vunerian slowly but surely started to flare with smoke. ¡°Relax? REEEElax?¡± Ilunor mimicked with no attempt to hide his agitation, the preamble made in an attempt to calm him down, resulting in quite literally the opposite. ¡°I¡¯m sure Emma can clarify why the situation isn¡¯t as grave as you might be led to believe, Ilunor.¡± Thalmin reasoned. ¡°Exactly! We still have time to deal with both the library and Larial. Remember, she did say that all she might need to submit is a copy. However, even if she needs to submit primary evidence, we still have until the end of the week to get the green book.¡± I offered, as both Thacea and Thalmin stared warily at the seemingly unstoppable chain reaction taking place within the Vunerian, his cheeks now puffing up to the point where they were practically red. ¡°This isn¡¯t like the dragon quest where I¡¯m seriously on a bit of a time crunch¡ª¡± ¡°This. Is. UNACCEPTABLE!¡± The Vunerian screamed. Chapter 119: Inquisitive Interludes 21 Hours Later 20 Minutes following the conclusion of Professor Articord¡¯s class. The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. En Route to the Apprentice¡¯s Tower. Local Time: 1720 Hours. Emma Ilunor did, in fact, find last night¡¯s impasse to be quite unacceptable. Which was why much of the previous night was spent concocting a plan. One which was devised primarily to alleviate Ilunor¡¯s growing concerns over Maltory¡¯s book. Ultimately, we agreed that no matter what, we would go to Larial¡¯s office today, regardless of her absence. So following a surprisingly tame lecture courtesy of Professor Articord ¡ª on topics that seemed to once again reinforce the Nexus¡¯ perpetually-expanding, forever-discworld ¡ª we now found ourselves barreling head-first into the unknown. But at least we weren¡¯t alone. ¡°OHHOHOHOHOHO¡ª WHAT?! WHY DIDN¡¯T YOU START OFF WITH THAT?! OF COURSE I¡¯d be happy to entertain this discourse, M¡¯LORD!¡± Though whether or not that was a boon or a burden¡­ was most definitely up for debate. But I knew one thing was for certain. The fact he was able to make it work was definitely the most magical thing I¡¯d seen him do so far. Because through some odd combination of wishy-washy words, with enough empty and vapid grand-sweeping statements¡­ he was able to actually convince the overly dramatic Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second ¡ª henceforth shortened to ¡®The Bridge Apprentice¡¯ ¡ª to take us to Larial¡¯s office. ¡­ Or at least, as close to Larial¡¯s office as was possible. As our destination technically wasn¡¯t her office, but instead his own. ¡°If I mayyyyy¡ª while this is NOT my prerogative nor duty, my own exploits behooves me to ask! Why is it that you have kept your drake-jockeying exploits hidden for so long, M¡¯LORD?!¡± The apprentice practically bellowed out, eliciting the attention of literally everyone currently sharing our hallway. ¡°Oh shush now, my dear fellow! I am nothing if not a modest man! I mean, why else would I have even entertained the thought of leading this sorry troupe I call my peers if it weren¡¯t so?¡± The deluxe kobold jeered, garnering a vapidly, friendly, snooty laugh from the likes of the apprentice. ¡°A drake-rider and a gentleman! It would be an honor to discuss your aerial exploits, M¡¯LORD!¡± The man replied boisterously. ¡°I am, after all, something of a sky-jockey myself.¡± He chuffed through an uncomfortable series of haughty, nasally laughs. ¡°So if you would be so willing, perhaps we may trade stories of this GENTLEMANLY pastime?¡± ¡°Of course of course! Where would my manners be if not with those who have earned their place amongst the skies!¡± Ilunor continued the mind-numbing flattery¡­ until he didn¡¯t. ¡°Though, of course, I assume we can disregard pretenses if you would be so earnest.¡± ¡°Pretenses, M¡¯LORD?¡± ¡°Let us not be beside ourselves, apprentice. We both understand the ultimate conclusion of this discourse, no?¡± Ilunor continued, his social facade contorting to a more coy one. ¡°Why else would the Second Apprentice Lead of the Student¡¯s Flying Organization be so forthcoming with this discussion¡­ if not to offer me a place amidst their ranks?¡± Ilunor went for the jugular there, causing the apprentice to stiffen up, if only for a moment. ¡°Am I THAT much of an open book M¡¯LORD?¡± He grinned cheekily. ¡°Perhaps I am merely an expert at deciphering the abstract and profound.¡± Ilunor spoke in a way I¡¯ve rarely seen him do; flattering the man and inflating his already eccentric ego. As we finally crossed the threshold and into the apprentices¡¯ tower, in the midst of their collective laughter, Ilunor finally glanced sharply in my direction, as if to remind me of our ad-hoc plan.
The Previous Night ¡°Remember earthrealmer, our plan is not to court this buffoon, but instead, to play the spymaster! Now, it is commonly known that the apprentices live, breathe, and work in their own exclusive tower. Thus, all we require is a passing stroll through their offices, and a glancing mention of Larial¡¯s, at which point¡­ I would humbly demand that you utilize two of your manaless creatures. One to confirm the whereabouts of the green book, and the second to act as our permanent sentry within her office. While I believe stealing the book to be a more straightforward solution, I will acquiesce to your demands. Ensuring the book¡¯s whereabouts will be sufficient. Moreover, so long as a second manaless insect remains to notify us of Larial¡¯s return, I shall be satisfied to simply request the book from her when she returns.¡± ¡°Just to be clear Ilunor, I¡¯m only doing this because it¡¯s pertinent to your quest. I¡¯m not going to go around bugging the whole school. The more assets I deploy, the more I run the risk of people finding out about these drones. If that happens¡­ we can say goodbye to the single most useful asset I have.¡±
¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°You got those drones ready?¡± ¡°Affirmative. INFIL-DRONE01a¡­ STATUS¡­ READY TO DEPLOY. INFIL-DRONE02a¡­ STATUS¡­ READY TO DEPLOY.¡± ¡°Good. Just be ready to deploy them the moment we find our opening.¡± ¡°Acknowledged.¡± ¡°Cadet Emma Booker!¡± The bridge apprentice quickly turned in my direction. ¡°I can only IMAGINE the sorts of awe-stricken faces to be garnered once the taming of sky beasts and the introduction of aerial vehicles finally reaches your realm!¡± I responded with a tired nod, defusing the man¡¯s intentions as he went back to the mindless back and forths with Ilunor. Our walk through the Apprentices¡¯ Tower was surprisingly normal, all things considered. As unlike the faculty tower, there seemed to be markedly reduced instances of geometry-defying anomalies. If anything, it reminded me of Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower¡­ if only a little bit more dressed up. With white and black checkerboard marble floors adorning the lobby, and chandeliers appointing practically every hallway intersection that led way to the magical elevators. Indeed, there seemed to only be one set of stairs in this entire tower. Though not grand, what it lacked in size, it more than made up for in verticality. As this spiral staircase quite literally went all the way up about thirty or so stories. We passed by hundreds of Elven portraits on our way up, through the second, third, fourth, and then finally the twentieth floor. At which point, Ilunor was practically gasping for breath. The Vunerian, surprisingly, made it a point not to use me as his trusty steed this time around. ¡°Apologies M¡¯LORD! I¡¯d have assumed¡ª¡± ¡°Is. This. The. Apprentice¡¯s. Office. Floor?!¡± Ilunor managed out in-between unsteady breaths, leaning against one of the ornate pillars, and pointing at what was effectively a hallway with door upon unmarked door. This posed a problem, as identifying Larial¡¯s office was practically impossible. ¡°Indeed it is! Now, my office is just this way¡­¡± The man continued, walking down the corridor. At which point, did Ilunor finally strike in-between bouts of vapid conversation. ¡°Does the Academy insist on keeping your doors so¡­ bland? So completely¡­ unadorned?¡± This prompted the man to stop as he cocked his head in Ilunor¡¯s direction. ¡°Without any form of personal embellishments as is the case with any noble occupying any of His Eternal Majesty¡¯s ministries?¡± ¡°That ISssss Academy rrrregulation, M¡¯LORD!¡± ¡°For shame.¡± Ilunor tutted. ¡°¡®Tis but a blank canvas. Just think¡­ if given the opportunity, what brilliant gilded works would you adorn your door with, Apprentice?¡± This one question¡­ opened up the floodgates of torrential yapping. As seconds bled into minutes, prompting me to turn to the EVI. ¡°It takes a yapper to know a yapper, but I assume I don¡¯t go that far when I really get into it, right?¡± ¡°ERROR: Query is unquantifiable.¡± I was about to question exactly what the EVI meant by that, if it wasn¡¯t for Ilunor¡¯s gambit quickly panning out. ¡°Now, what would you say Apprentice Arlan Ostoy would prefer?¡± ¡°Oh, that dark and brooooody sycophant?! Why I¡¯d assume his door would be completely gone! Buried! Entirely overrun! Hidden, entombed, and interned beneath the crests and sigils of those victims of his insincerrrre FLATTERY!¡± ¡°I can understand perhaps why personalization would be quite troublesome then.¡± Ilunor chuckled. ¡°But even so, I doubt it would be an issue if his office weren¡¯t adjacent to your own, no?¡± ¡°HAH! While that may be so, there are others whose¡­ aesthetic differences would be entirely unacceptable!¡± The conversation snowballed on from there. So that¡¯s how he¡¯s going to subtly draw out intel from him. Feigning interest for each and every apprentice, and by extension, their hypothetical door-makeovers. I guess loose lips really do sink ships¡­ My mind was practically sludge by the end of it, at which point, he finally started talking about Larial¡¯s door. ¡°Jackpot.¡± But I still couldn¡¯t deploy the drones though. I needed just the right window of opportunity¡­ ¡°Here, allow me!¡± The apprentice beamed, opening the door to his office, while utterly enamored by Ilunor¡¯s conversation. He¡¯s distracted. ¡°Deploy!¡± [INFIL-DRONE01a¡­ DEPLOYED.] [INFIL-DRONE02a¡­ DEPLOYED.] Seconds was all that was needed. A second to undock, a second to take off, and another second to book it towards Larial¡¯s office. [OBJECTIVE 1 COMPLETE] [COMMENCING PRIMARY SURVEYS] The first phase of the mission was a success. ¡°Oh Cadet Emma Booookeeeer, would you care to join us for a spot of tea?¡± The Apprentice hollered, his voice booming from within his room. But now comes the real challenge¡­ actually following through with our asinine pretenses.
2 Hours Later ¡°And thus I proclaimed: YOU. SHALL. NOT. PASS!¡± We both stared at the apprentice blankly. ¡°Just to clarify, this was during your stint as the bridge guard to the library, right?¡± ¡°Oh, no no no, by His Majesty¡¯s word, no! This was during my first instance as an exam proctor!¡± We both breathed out a sigh of exhaustion, our eyes collectively turning to the clock behind the man. This prompted him to quickly follow suit, his eyes widening in horror. ¡°BY HIS MAJESTY, HAS IT BEEN THAT LONG?!¡± The Apprentice stood up, his head now glancing back and forth between the door and his window. One that overlooked the Grand Dining Hall and the dinner which we were now all late for. ¡°LET US MAKE HASTE!¡± He yelled, quickly grabbing his keys, and then promptly shunting us out the door. From there, it was every man for himself. As the apprentice booked it by leaping and jumping straight through the central chasm in the middle of the spiral staircase. This left just Ilunor and I to blink at each other blankly. ¡°Well¡­ that was¡ª¡± [INFIL-DRONE 1A: MISSION PARAMETERS¡­ ACCOMPLISHED. RTB.] I stopped in my tracks, my eyes quickly focusing on the targeting reticle highlighting the return of INFIL-DRONE 1a. Ilunor, with visible disgust upon noticing the drone¡¯s docking procedures, spoke urgently. ¡°Well?! Is it¡ª¡± [DATA UPLOAD COMPLETE. PRIORITY TARGET LOCATED. REPORT AVAILABLE.] ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s there alright.¡± I nodded, my eyes quickly scrolling through the brief one-page report complete with embedded video. ¡°Behind some fancy glowing magical barriers, but it¡¯s there.¡± ¡°By His Eternal Majesty¡¯s Light¡­¡± The Vunerian breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°You''re welcome.¡± I chided. ¡°Well, with that over with, the second infil-drone will report Larial¡¯s arrival as soon as it detects it.¡± Ilunor nodded, his features locked between relief and a still-latent nervousness. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, Ilunor. Trust me. Now, let¡¯s get some well-deserved downtime, shall we?¡± With a surprisingly polite nod, we were off. Taking the long way down the spiral staircase, though about half way I began fantasizing about simply jumping straight through the middle hole with Ilunor in tow. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. The suit is rated for it¡­ or at least close to it¡­ I thought to myself, just as our silent little jaunt came to an inexplicable halt. ¡°Students? In the Exaltorium?¡± A hardened female voice broke me out of my reverie. A voice brimming with both urgency and authority, carrying with it a cadence I hadn¡¯t yet heard on this side of the portal. A cadence that immediately brought back memories of Aunty Ran¡¯s ¡®drill instructor¡¯ tone. And one that I¡¯d gotten used to following the instructions of for the past year of training. I instinctively stopped, my muscles tensing reflexively, as I turned to face the source of this voice. One that the EVI had yet to assign a name or a face to. In front of us, or rather, a flight of stairs below us on the next floor down was an armored elf. Though unlike Sorecar¡¯s full-form plate armor leaving everything to the imagination, this elf¡¯s uniform was something else entirely. A design that screamed officer-material. With a sloped and elegant copper-gold chestplate that ended just above her lower abdomen, two glowing pauldrons with aiguillettes tethered into some hidden side-pocket, a half-helmet nestled in the crook of her arm, and a flowy Age of Sail captain¡¯s jacket set over the armor ¡ª both her aesthetic and presence was set in stark contrast to everything I¡¯ve seen at the Academy so far. And it wasn¡¯t just her outfit that was doing it for me either. If anything, it was her gaze. Her piercing, no-nonsense expression that lacked the signature look of haughty superiority found on other nobles, instead replacing it with a relaxed look of assured authority. It was something that only the Dean, and Mal¡¯tory to a certain extent, had been able to embody. Except this time¡­ it was being done effortlessly. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± I replied instantly, leaving barely any time for dead air to form. ¡°They allow first years to roam freely now, do they?¡± ¡°No ma¡¯am. We were granted permission by one Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya¡ª¡± ¡°Save your breath, girl.¡± The armored elf interjected, much to my surprise. A quick glance to Ilunor¡¯s pale-blue face confirmed that this¡­ brevity was definitely out of the ordinary. ¡°Now tell me. I don¡¯t imagine you can fly, now can you?¡± That question¡­ caught both of us by surprise. As Ilunor attempted to address it, opening his mouth only to be shot down. ¡°Not you, Vunerian.¡± The elf quite literally snapped her head in Ilunor¡¯s direction, the only part of her to even move with the rest of her remaining as still as a statue. ¡°I was addressing the candidate.¡± Her head quickly snapped back in my direction, those dark-purple eyes piercing sharply through my lenses. ¡°Not through conventional means, ma¡¯am.¡± I answered bluntly. ¡°Let me be clear ¡ª can you, or can you not, ride a winged mount?¡± ¡°No ma¡¯am. Not anything Nexian or otherwise, at least.¡± ¡°And yet you were present at what was ostensibly a recruitment campaign for the Academy¡¯s Flying Club.¡± She reasoned, deducing everything in what felt like a heartbeat. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am. I was present, though it is worth noting¡ª¡± ¡°I require no further explanation.¡± She cut me off once more. Her features¡­ betraying neither dissatisfaction nor malicious intent. ¡°I appreciate your honesty, candidate. Not many would be so forthright, so willing to admit to what would otherwise be a cause for suspicion to oneself.¡± The elf cleared her throat, her features¡­ intentionally softening. ¡°Such earnesty is refreshing.¡± A few seconds¡¯ pause suddenly punctuated those words. Though barely a drop in the bucket in most conversations, the rapid pace of this one made the silence feel unbearably long by comparison. This pause¡­ was uncharacteristically broken by a soft snicker and a genuine smile across a face second only to the armor for its stoicism. ¡°I won¡¯t take much more of your time. It is not my place, nor do I care to enforce the Academy¡¯s rules.¡± The elf¡¯s words, just as surprisingly, started softening by the tail end of things. Not so much switching between authoritative and lenient, but moreso, skirting the gradient of both. ¡°I take it your time has been well-spent thus far, candidate?¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Your experiences¡­ satisfactory?¡± ¡°In all honesty, given I have nothing to compare this experience to, I¡¯d have to get back to you on that one, ma¡¯am.¡± That response¡­ elicited a slight change in the elf¡¯s features. Namely, the subtle growth of a friendly smirk. ¡°A diplomat¡¯s response. Admittedly terse, but stately all the same.¡± She acknowledged with a genuine smile. ¡°Very well. If there is anything I can do to improve your experience, please ¡ª as they say in the common vernacular ¡ª don¡¯t be a stranger.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll certainly keep that in mind. Thank you.¡± I dipped my head slightly in response. ¡°Both of you best be off now. I wish you both a pleasant dinner. If we ever cross paths again, I do wish to extend my offer in providing you your first winged mount experience, candidate. Seeing as you have yet to have the pleasure of doing so.¡± She offered as that tone of authority gave way to genuine warmth, if only for a brief moment. ¡°Carry on as you were, candidate. Vunerian.¡± A thousand and one questions flooded my mind now. All of which were poised straight at this mysterious armored elf. Though I knew this wasn¡¯t the place for it. We were just offered an out¡­ and I was sure as hell going to take it. Ilunor most definitely agreed with this, as he began pacing much faster than he did earlier. However, just as we passed by the mystery-elf¡¯s stoic figure, did she suddenly decide to throw a curveball our way. ¡°And students?¡± She uttered politely, yet refused to turn in our direction. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am?¡± ¡°...I don¡¯t suppose either of you have seen Apprentice Larial around, have you?¡± I froze, my whole body tensing inside of the armor. Ilunor, thankfully, remained cool all throughout, his poker face really coming in handy now more than ever. ¡°No, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°I see. Very well then, as you were.¡± We began pacing out of there following that. And despite not overtly showing any signs of malicious intent¡­ I couldn¡¯t help but to keep my eyes plastered on my rear-view camera. As it showed the armored elf¡¯s static and stoic form just¡­ standing there, remaining completely still within eyeshot until we were finally out of a direct line of sight.
Several Hours Later. Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 2100 Hours. Emma ¡°What the hell was that?¡± I managed out under an unsteady breath, having just replayed the entire sequence of events to an incredibly wary Thalmin and an equally apprehensive Thacea. ¡°She¡¯s a goldthorn, that¡¯s what.¡± Ilunor hissed out through a sooty breath. [¡®GOLDTHORN¡¯. No known translations found within the Working Language Database.] ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, that¡¯s not really translating well¡ª¡± ¡°A member of the Inner Guard. Specifically, those granted investigative authority, primarily in policing and intelligence duties. Goldthorns, is simply a term for those performing investigations open to the public light. That¡¯s how she deduced, quite easily, the ¡®business¡¯ we had in the Exaltorium. No doubt she saw that buffoon jumping off the twentieth floor¡­¡± Ilunor trailed off, before reorienting himself with a cough. ¡°In any case. Goldthorns tend to be¡­ problematic, but harmless if you avoid obstructing their investigation. They are, in their own strange way, honor-bound to the rule of law and noble justices.¡± ¡°This is in stark contrast to the blackthorns, who work exclusively in the dark, performing ancestors¡¯ only knows what in the shadows of the Nexus and beyond.¡± Thalmin growled out, his eyes locked onto the armored elf¡¯s friendly smile. [New esoteric colloquialisms added to the Working Language Database] ¡°Right. That makes sense.¡± I nodded. ¡°A thorn in one¡¯s backside, is probably where this originates from right?¡± A few blinks were exchanged between both Thalmin and Ilunor, each narrowing their eyes at my statement. ¡°Roughly, yes.¡± They spoke unanimously. ¡°Though when you phrase it so¡­ blatantly, you lose the transformative participle which elevates the word from common to High Nexian.¡± Ilunor explained, eliciting an affirmative beep from the EVI¡¯s active-learning algorithms. However, no sooner was that beep heard, did another assault my senses. This one¡­ actually offering something vital to the conversation. [Alert: Current topic of discussion matches recorded footage from MAL¡¯TORY¡¯S OFFICE. Accurate to minimal extrapolative parameters.] My eyes grew wide at the rapid analysis report (RAR), as a few seconds was all that was necessary to connect the dots. ¡°Thank you, EVI.¡± I acknowledged inwardly, before turning to everyone present. ¡°Guys.¡± I announced, garnering everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°I think we may know who she is and what she¡¯s doing here.¡± With a quick flick of my tablet, I began replaying the INFIL-DRONE''s footage from Larial¡¯s investigation of Mal¡¯tory¡¯s office. Honing in on Sorecar¡¯s questions as to the apprentice¡¯s involvement with the ¡®Inner Guard¡¯. ¡°Though, forgive me if I am overstepping my bounds here¡­ but I do assume that the seal on your notebook belongs to the Inner Guard. Dare I say it, it reminds me of a sub-order within the guard; the Beholders of His Eternal Majesty, to be precise.¡± Ilunor plopped back against the couch at this reminder, his hands cradled in a ¡®triangle¡¯ around his snout. ¡°So this must be the investigator the Dean mentioned too.¡± I acknowledged. ¡°A member of the Inner Guard, the¡ª¡± ¡°The Beholders of His Eternal Majesty.¡± Ilunor interjected. ¡°That¡­ narrows it down somewhat, but not precisely. However, this is admittedly one of the tamer sub-orders within the Inner Guard.¡± ¡°Which explains why she seemed rather hospitable¡ª¡± ¡°I still wouldn¡¯t dare entertain anything she says or offers, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor warned gravely. ¡°If anything, her earlier actions could be explained away as a dragon toying with its food.¡± ¡°But in any case.¡± Thalmin sighed out loudly. ¡°The dean says he¡¯s covering Lord Lartia¡¯s death, is he not?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± I nodded. ¡°And if anything, she seems much more focused on Larial.¡± He continued. ¡°Yeah¡­ maybe there¡¯s some game going on behind the scenes. Maybe she¡¯s expanded the investigation¡¯s scope beyond Lord Lartia¡¯s death to Mal¡¯tory¡¯s responsibility with the Library, or maybe it¡¯s a little bit of everything¡­ let¡¯s just keep on our toes for the time being.¡± We all nodded collectively at that, breathing a sigh of relief, with everyone reaching for this evening¡¯s tray of delectable snacks. But just as everyone was about to settle in ¡ª homework in one hand, tea in another ¡ª a series of knocks threw us back into the deep end. KNOCK! KNOCK!! KNOCK!!!! Everyone held their breaths as both Thalmin and I stood up first. Though it was Thalmin who ultimately decided to take the plunge, as he marched forwards, opening the door to reveal¡ª YAAAAWWWWWNNNNNN ¡°OI! I THOUGHT I WAS DONE WITH YOU LOT! NOW YER EXPECTING PACKAGES AT THE CRACK OF MOONLIGHT?!¡± The bridge apprentice drawled out, handing Thalmin a package. ¡°And ¡®ere I thought, ¡®OH! That should be IT for all you worthless busy-bodies¡¯ tailored CLOTHES, and bespoke PENS!¡¯ I guess they MISSED a package, now DIDN¡¯T THEY?!¡± He chastised. ¡°You oughta pick the more reputable establishments in town. Ones that actually FINISH their orders on time!¡± We all stared at the man in varying levels of confusion ¡ª though he did offer Ilunor a little nod through the doorway. ¡°We¡ª¡± SLAM! Thalmin barely had any time to counter him before he was rebuked by a door slam. ¡°Emma?¡± ¡°Yes, Thalmin?¡±¡°What exactly did you order from town? I assumed your knick-knacks were already all delivered¡ª¡± ¡°They were!¡± I countered. ¡°Let me see what that¡ª¡± I walked up, grabbing the package, before realizing just what this was before even opening it. ¡°Oh.¡± I muttered, furiously tearing the festive wrapper apart, to reveal a boring white box. Within it, however, was a dozen or so vials of ink¡ª Probably to add weight to it so it wasn¡¯t too suspicious¡­ ¡ªand a simple note. One written in some sort of cypher that Thacea promptly decoded. ¡°The guild master requests your presence tomorrow, Emma.¡± She uttered softly. ¡°Late afternoon, early evening preferably.¡± ¡°So they¡¯re back that early, huh?¡± ¡°Not necessarily.¡± Thalmin corrected. ¡°It is customary for guild leaders to provide ample warning before the return of an adventuring party out of courtesy for the issuer of a quest. Given the professionalism of Sym¡¯s Troubleshooters, I assume they more than likely sent a messenger bird out in advance.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I nodded. ¡°Alright then.¡± I took a breath, steadying myself at the two major paths in front of us. ¡°I think we can put a tentative pause on Ilunor¡¯s library quest for now. With the book firmly in Larial¡¯s office, and the drone there as an early warning measure, I think we should be fine. So with that quest on hold until Larial¡¯s arrival¡­ let¡¯s focus on catching ourselves an amethyst dragon.¡±
20 Hours Later The Grand Concourse of Learning. The Hall of Light. Manafield Perception and Light Magic Theory Class. Incumbent Lecturer: Professor Mal¡¯tory [N/A], Apprentice Larial [N/A], Professor Sorecar [Present] Local Time: 1700 Hours. Emma Larial was, once again, nowhere to be found. Which meant that the class was, by rules of succession, temporarily under Sorecar¡¯s reign. All of this was to say, this was actually a fun class for once. Combining that with the whole Class Sovereign posturing between the Big Two, and today¡¯s class was less of a boring lecture, and more an entirely demonstrative class. Consisting primarily of magical dueling, with lectures seamlessly embedded during, between, or at the tail end of each fight. ¡®Project Wand Step for Mankind¡¯ would¡¯ve very much been useful in the class no doubt. But¡­ inexplicable complications forced its temporary hold, until the EVI could fine-tune issues found in both its software and hardware. ¡°Hohoho! I have yet to see such heated theatrics between two Sovereign candidates-to-be!¡± Sorecar beamed out boisterously, his laughter echoing within the armor, generating this tinny voice that caused some students to flinch in annoyance. ¡°Young lords, I urge you to pace yourselves. While I am more than happy to provide a stage to upstage one another, I would not dare ask you to risk life and limb for a simple lecture¡­ at least, not until the Academy changes their minds on such matters.¡± The man spoke coyly. ¡°Ahhh! I still remember the days when¡ª¡± TOO-TOOO-TOOOOOT! ¡°Ah, well, that¡¯s that then! Please remember to do your homework!¡± All eyes were on the empty blackboard, prompting the man to clarify himself. ¡°Your homework, of course, is to improve the skills you¡¯ve observed today! For next time¡­ there will be more practicals!¡± He beamed. Sighs were exchanged all throughout the hall as everyone started filing out. However, contrary to the flow of students, the gang and I remained behind. Only after the students and the band had left did we approach Sorecar. The man cocking his head clearly in curiosity at our unprompted conversation. ¡°Professor?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± ¡®There are only a handful of ways to leave the Academy for town during the weekdays. Though it is not uncommon for students to ¡®fabricate¡¯ their own reasons, to enjoy the freedom of town life as opposed to the bland sameness of the evening dinner.¡¯ I recalled Thacea¡¯s words last night as I took a breath, hoping this little gambit would work. ¡°I was wondering if you could give me a night pass into town. I need¡­ some modifications done to my school uniform.¡± I smiled brightly. The professor¡¯s visor slowly lowered itself at that question, mimicking what I could only imagine was a ¡®narrowing¡¯ of one¡¯s eyes out of suspicion. ¡°Is that so? And what exactly is wrong with your uniform, Cadet?¡± He shot back coyly. ¡°Wellll, I¡¯m thinking I need to loosen the sides of the cloak a bit, they sorta get in the way of my movement.¡± I managed out with a sly yet nervous smile beneath the helmet. ¡°Oh? Is that so? Why, we most certainly can¡¯t have that holding back our students!¡± The man¡¯s visor suddenly flipped up, the plate of steel snapping up so fast that it reached the end of its hinge with a solid ¡ª clank! ¡ª forcing it to rebound back down into a closed position. ¡°Well¡­ as acting Professor, this is something I can easily do.¡± He chuckled boisterously, that tinny voice causing Ilunor to squint. You¡¯re really the MVP here, Sorecar. I thought to myself with a satisfied smile, watching as the man began drafting up a small letter. ¡°Just make sure to return before the portals close.¡± He dipped his tone for just a moment, making sure to hammer home that one non-negotiable clause. ¡°Will do, Professor. Thank you.¡± I bowed deeply, the man reciprocating as we eventually bid our goodbyes for the time being. ¡°And do stop by the workshop some time, Cadet Emma Booker!¡± He beamed, flailing his arms around from the bottom of the lecture hall. ¡°I have much to discuss!¡±
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. The Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Local Time: 1754 Hours. Sym the Honeydew thump. Thump. THUMP! SLAM! We entered through those double doors with ragged breaths and mud-stained boots. A loud THUMP soon followed, as gear and supplies were dropped unceremoniously onto the guild¡¯s hardwood floors. Yet in spite of our loud and flippant arrival, not a single soul present seemed to be the least bit bothered. What would¡¯ve otherwise upended the chatter of the rowdiest of bars, was just another weekday around here. If anything, the world within the guild hall seemed to accommodate this sort of unprompted arrival. As adventurers-in-training quickly arrived to collect, organize, and sort our gear into neat little trolleys ¡ª the sort of service one would only expect to find in one of those upscale inns. More than that, we were greeted with the soft and polite smile of one of the guild¡¯s most prominent public-facing figures. A woman only known as The Receptionist. ¡°I see you four have returned¡­¡± The elf noted with her perpetually-cordial cadence, flicking open her gold-tethered pocket watch in the process. ¡°... earlier than expected, and right on time for your appointment.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have sent a bird if we weren¡¯t going to make the call.¡± I replied cockily. ¡°So, are our quest-givers here yet?¡± ¡°No, but I doubt you¡¯ll be able to make yourselves presentable within a timely fashion. I suggest you make haste for the guild master¡¯s office, as it shouldn¡¯t take long now before¡ª¡± SLAM! ¡°¡ªthey arrive.¡± We turned towards the door ¡ª some of us caked in mud, others in soot and ash ¡ª to find four neatly dressed, prim and proper nobles. Two of which seemed to have their hands full with all manner of overpriced snacks. Though only one ¡ª the Vunerian ¡ª seemed adamant on making sure everyone knew his presence, and that his time was not worthy of delaying his dinner over, munching down on said treats with a condescending glare. ¡°Hah! Well isn¡¯t this a coincidence!¡± The blue knight spoke first, taking the reins of the conversation. ¡°We have much to discuss!¡± ¡°Aye¡­ that we do.¡± I acknowledged warily. Chapter 120: How To Track Your Dragon Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. En route to the Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Local Time: 1752 Hours. Emma ¡°Ilunor?¡± I turned towards the Vunerian, my two hands overflowing with thick paper bags stuffed to the brim with useless knick-knacks, a hundred and one cufflinks, and just about as many more gourmet pastries that could give the Paris Intrasolar Baking House a run for its money. ¡°Yes, earthrealmer?¡± He craned his head back, one hand holding a thousand-layer puff pastry baked right on the stick, drizzled in what was boldly advertised as a syrup containing a hundred unique forms of ¡®Crown-grade¡¯ honey. ¡°We¡¯re burning daylight here.¡± I chided, pointing at the rapidly setting¡­ ¡®sun¡¯, and the growing darkness around us. ¡°You¡¯ve done nothing for the past thirty minutes but to delay us by going on your silly little sidequests around town.¡± I doubled down, only for the Vunerian to narrow his eyes, deploying a privacy screen in the process. Following which, did he stop to kick me on the suit¡¯s ¡®ankles¡¯. ¡°Have you learned nothing from our conversations, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± He tsked. I opted not to respond. ¡°THEATRE, Cadet Emma Booker! THEATRE! The princess has made it clear has she not? That these¡­ nightly outings, are more often than not, thinly-veiled excuses made for the sake of attaining a reprieve from the Academy?¡± I cocked my head almost immediately at that response. ¡°So¡­ you¡¯re just building up plausible deniability?¡± ¡°Correct, earthrealmer!¡± Ilunor beamed. ¡°It is an open secret that most ¡®night pass¡¯ requests are mere fabricated contrivances. Thus, if anyone wishes to delve even slightly beneath the surface of our little outing, these sidequests as you call them, will serve as evidence for patterns of behavior in congruence with what is expected of such falsehoods. Otherwise, they will find the lack of any petty ulterior motives to be suspicious!¡± ¡°Prompting skepticism in our activities to grow, hinting to a more malicious ulterior motive to our outing. Perhaps even sparking more scrutiny on our actions on this night.¡± Thacea reluctantly corroborated, prompting Ilunor to beam bright with self assured victory. ¡°Only in the Nexus would acting with decency and honesty be met with more scrutiny than the bold-faced acceptance of open lies and deceits.¡± Thalmin commented with a growl, capping off our little impromptu shopping trip into town, just as we arrived at our destination.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Local Time: 1759 Hours. Emma I hadn¡¯t at all expected to see Sym the moment I walked through those double doors. If anything ¡ª and if Aunty Ran was to be believed ¡ª this was perhaps fate in the making. However no sooner did we exchange our first words did a polite and cordial elf arrive to greet us. A woman wearing what I could only describe as a fantasy renaissance take on ¡®business formal¡¯. With a long flowy skirt, coupled with a tunic with a puffy collar set beneath a beige-orange open-buttoned coat. Though only about half of her receptionist vibes came through from her attire. The other half was all in the way she carried herself, as she smiled and addressed us in a way only a seasoned front desk receptionist could. ¡°Good evening, my lords and ladies.¡± She bowed deeply. ¡°Might I be bold enough to assume that you are here for the Guild Master¡¯s evening appointment?¡± She kept things vague enough in order to not garner more attention than was necessary. Yet specific enough that it was clear she was firmly in-the-know. We definitely missed this lady on our first pass-through of the guild. I thought to myself. ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded. ¡°Excellent.¡± The elf responded with that perpetually cordial smile. ¡°I will relay your arrival to Master Piamon and, if you so wish, you may follow me to the upstairs reception area.¡± However, before I gave my response, I quickly glanced over to Sym and the gang, my eyes narrowing at their¡­ disheveled state. ¡°Erm, I don¡¯t suppose that they also just arrived?¡± This question prompted the elf to raise a brow. ¡°Yes, my lady.¡± She replied. ¡°Though if it is the matter of their physical well-being that is in question, then I wish to allay those concerns. I can assure you that all present are in sufficient condition to deliver a detailed report on the subject of your inquest.¡± ¡°Oh, erm. Actually I should¡¯ve asked about that first.¡± I mumbled out, rubbing the back of my head in the process, before turning to the adventuring party. ¡°Are you guys¡­ alright?¡± ¡°Things are, as The Receptionist has pointed out, my lady.¡± Sym replied instantly, raising an arm to prevent the bat-like Thulvahn from responding first. ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ve been through a lot, still.¡± I added, my eyes running up and down their disheveled, muddy, soot and ash covered forms. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be opposed to you guys taking like half an hour to get ready for the meeting.¡± This offer¡­ clearly took both Sym and his troupe, along with the receptionist by surprise. However, all were more than willing to accept this offer, as the man simply gave me a deep bow, before walking off and into some back corridors. Presumably to some in-house dorms. ¡°In any case, we will be more than happy to accommodate your wait up in the noble¡¯s reception room, my lady.¡± The receptionist continued on seamlessly, as several vintage-looking baggage trolleys were quickly pushed our way. My eyes, however, quickly locked onto the kids behind those trolleys as two of them were immediately identified by the EVI. [N04 Garna. Trainee Adventurer. Desig: ¡®Satyr¡¯.] [N05 Loris. Trainee Adventurer. Desig: ¡®Kobold¡¯.] The pair looked¡­ ragged and exhausted, sweat pouring down from the former¡¯s forehead and onto his stained tunic, while the latter huffed and puffed up a storm. Their exhaustion probably stemmed from having to haul Sym¡¯s gear and supplies prior to our arrival. This disheveledness didn¡¯t stop them from conforming to decorum though, as they both put on their best customer service faces. However, in spite of their best efforts, there was one thing they couldn¡¯t hide. ¡­gurgle¡­ Their hunger welling within. Which prompted me to take action. No sooner after they finished loading the cart did I grab a few of Ilunor¡¯s shopping bags, handing two to both the satyr and kobold, respectively. ¡°Here.¡± I offered with a smile. ¡°You look and sound famished.¡± The pair, in shock, turned to one another with wide eyes. ¡°Oh, erm. We¡­¡± Both of them stammered out, though it was Garna who finally won out in the end. ¡°Our dinner comes after the senior and junior level adventurers, my lady.¡± He explained sheepishly, pointing to the west wing¡¯s dining hall that was beginning to fill up with the adventurers in question. ¡°Oh, so it¡¯s like a seniority type thing?¡± ¡°Yes, my lady. The guild master eats first, then the senior adventures, and then so on and so forth.¡± I cocked my head at that, as a disturbing thought cropped up as a result. ¡°Please tell me you¡¯re not given the leftovers from the dining hall¡­¡± ¡°Not here, my lady.¡± Loris responded this time around. ¡°Though lesser halls have been known to practice that given their limited¡ª¡± The elf suddenly paused at the behest of the receptionist who¡¯d silenced her with just one stern look. ¡°B-but you needn¡¯t worry about our bellies, my lady. We¡¯re well-fed here.¡± The kobold quickly reiterated, though that did nothing to sway my decision. ¡°Gotcha. But, hey, just consider this a treat then, alright?¡± I countered deftly. ¡°That is, of course, if it¡¯s allowed within guild rules?¡± I quickly turned to face the receptionist, who maintained a polite smile as she responded. ¡°It is well within the rules to provide gifts, if it pleases my lady.¡± ¡°Alright then.¡± I hid a barely contained grin. ¡°Then here¡ª¡± I reached over, grabbing yet another one of Ilunor¡¯s many treat bags. ¡°¡ªtake this as well. Share it amongst your friends and whatnot.¡± A myriad of expressions formed following this. With an incredulous one from Ilunor, a cordially neutral one from the receptionist, and two bright and beaming faces of the adventurers in training. ¡°Thank you, my lady!¡± They declared in-sync with radiant grins. The likes of which were infectious enough to make me feel all warm and bubbly inside. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t thank me. Thank Lord Rularia here for his charity.¡± I gestured towards the Vunerian, who simply turned his snout up at the whole affair. ¡°Credit and gold where it¡¯s due, after all.¡±
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Guild Master¡¯s Office. Local Time: 1835 Hours. Emma The slime¡¯s room was just as I remembered it, save for the addition of a buffet table nestled haphazardly in one of its formerly empty corners. It was apparently customary ¡ª and part of expectant decorum ¡ª to offer both adventurer and quest-giver alike dining options if a meeting were to take place during mealtime. And it was clear that everyone was taking advantage of this, save for of course, me. Both parties currently sat opposite of each other on the two couches in front of Piamon¡¯s desk, with the coffee table in between it used as a sort of ¡®middle ground¡¯, stacked high with selections from the buffet table. Though, much to Ilunor¡¯s chagrin, there seemed to be a distinct lack of tableside service. ¡°Thank you all for your punctuality.¡± Piamon began, choosing to remain in his slime form this time around. ¡°This meeting is to conclude the matter of the quest contract issued by one Cadet Emma Booker, to the adventuring party officially registered as Sym¡¯s Troubleshooters. Given the quest¡¯s unique nature, I will act as both arbitrator and primary witness to this conversation. So please, feel free to begin.¡± The man spoke politely, and in a surprisingly succinct manner for a Nexian noble. ¡°Thank you, Guild Master.¡± Sym bowed deeply from his side of the couch, his eyes landing on my visor. ¡°To begin, I acknowledge that all terms issued within the contract have been fulfilled.¡± Sym started, prompting the guild master to form a slime tendril to begin jotting down notes on the contract in question. ¡°Moreover, I would like to note that we managed to fulfil the contract¡¯s obligations not only within the allotted time, but likewise earlier than demanded. This grants us the bonus of fifty gold per day per person in accordance with the additional terms laid out verbally.¡± ¡°Does the quest issuer wish to comment, argue, or clarify on any of these points before continuing?¡± Piamon chimed in. ¡°No, a deal¡¯s a deal. The base pay and bonus are still on the table. Provided, of course, full details of the dragon¡¯s location are shown to us.¡± I replied firmly. ¡°Understood.¡± Piamon nodded, gesturing for Sym to continue. At which point, did he reach for a satchel, revealing a rolled up piece of paper, and several other artifacts I wasn¡¯t at all expecting. Some of which¡­ were caked in both soot and dried-up blood. The table in front of us was quickly cleared of food, though only after some back and forths with a frustrated Vunerian, who compromised on having just one tray of treats on the couch¡¯s side table. Following this, the piece of rolled-up parchment was promptly unfurled, taking up much of the table¡¯s surface area. Though thankfully, this wouldn¡¯t be a problem, as Piamon casually extended its length through a small display of magic. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 200% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS What appeared in front of us now was a completely blank, though admittedly large, piece of parchment. Though all of this was quickly about to change. ¡°Let¡¯s get straight to the point.¡± Sym began, taking a knife and casually pricking himself on his pinky finger. After drawing a small splotch of blood, he began smearing it at one of the parchment¡¯s far ends, causing the whole thing to begin¡­ stirring. ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS ¡°Do you happen to have the ink I sent you, Cadet Emma Booker?¡± Piamon abruptly asked, prompting me to nod as I grabbed one of the vials the slime had sent along with the note. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Following its uncorking, the man simply¡­ poured the vial onto the paper directly. However, instead of simply spilling everywhere and causing a Bim Bim-level mess, the parchment somehow acted like one of those hyper-absorbent fabrics, guzzling up every last drop of jet-black ink. It was only after the whole bottle had been emptied did we see the true magic at play here, as the formerly blank parchment started glowing with life. Slowly, but surely, lines and map markers were drawn up. Grid coordinates criss-crossed the entirety of the parchment, followed by the sketchmarks of terrain, landmasses, and important natural geographical features such as forests, lakes, rivers, and mountains. The entire map had this¡­ almost sketched aesthetic to it, as if it was actively being drawn by hand. It was only after the roads, towns, and other such important man-made features were filled in that the aesthetics became more refined. Sketchmarks were replaced by clean lines, and splotches of shaded-in greyscale were replaced by a rich sepia tone. It all felt like we were watching one of those speedpaint montages. Though it took a solid five minutes before the whole map was finally ¡®complete¡¯. At which point, did it take me barely any time at all to realize what we were looking at. This¡­ was a map of the entirety of Transgracia and its surrounding neighbors. A fact the EVI could corroborate, given Professor Articord¡¯s timely introduction to the Nexus¡¯ political map just yesterday.
One Day Prior Professor Articord¡¯s Class Emma ¡°To ensure we finish the class in a timely fashion, I will no longer be taking class participation. So listen carefully or you will surely be unable to complete this week¡¯s homework.¡± The fox-like professor continued, as she pointed at both the blackboard and the growing magical ¡®hologram¡¯ in front of her. ¡°This, as all of you should already know, is the Nexus.¡± The Nexus¡¯ signature flat disc was both drawn behind the professor and projected in front of her. The blackboard displayed the disc as seen from above. Whilst the hologram in front of her displayed it from its ¡®side¡¯, showing the various layers beneath the surface. ¡°Or at least, the physical extent of the Nexus. Everything within this mortal coil, everything we can touch, feel, see, hear, taste, and so on and so forth. Astral projection and the various layers that come with it are a matter for second-years.¡± She spoke casually, completely sidestepping that ¡®minor¡¯ detail as we moved on. ¡°Given that this is a history and politics class, I will refrain from making grand sweeping discussions on the nature of the Nexus. Rather, I will focus on providing you what you need to know about its political organization in the contemporary era.¡± The professor quickly pointed to the blackboard, the hologram quickly disappearing, in lieu of the rapidly moving chalk pieces that now divided the Nexus into four distinct zones; resembling something that would¡¯ve been more fitting in a bar or a rec room. A dartboard. With a near-perfect circle at its very center and three concentric rings emanating from it, complete with what appeared to be finer divisions within the rings and circles. It was this latter detail that saved it from looking completely absurd. Instead, creating a sort of border gore that strategy gamers would probably blush at. Though to be fair¡­ given no scale was given thus far, it did remind me of how ¡®simplified¡¯ station maps and divisions could be. Planet-bound minds struggling to comprehend the beauty and simplicity of Spacer Perfection. Was the meme I was immediately reminded of here¡­ ¡°At the center of the civilized world, we have the Crownlands.¡± The professor quickly swung her scepter at the blackboard, coloring in the nearly perfect circle at the center of the disk. ¡°Home to His Eternal Majesty, the Privy Council, the Royal Palace, the Royal Estates, the Royal Cities, His Eternal Majesty¡¯s Royal Mandates, and the vast swaths of Royal Domains, Wards, and Provinces. The Crownlands was once the entirety of the known civilized world prior to the start of the Eternal Era.¡± Both Ping and Qiv raised their hands at that, but were equally shot down by the professor. ¡°The topic of the Eternal Era and the war which preceded it will be discussed on a later date.¡± This prompted both to lower their hands, as the professor moved on. ¡°Here, we have a region now known as the Midlands.¡± The professor paused, pulling out her scepter towards the first concentric ring drawn around the Crownlands. ¡°This region, now home to long-established kingdoms and territories established following its incorporation into His Eternal Regime, was once shrouded under the malevolent influence of spiteful gods and ancient beings. Hence its former name, the Outerlands. Nowadays, however? You¡¯d be hard-pressed to find any signs of this once-wretched past.¡± The first concentric ring was promptly colored in after that explanation, before the professor moved on, her scepter now hovering over the second concentric ring that surrounded the Midlands. ¡°Though as time progressed and as the continued its unending growth, so too did the Midlands grow far beyond its original extent. This forced a reevaluation and a shift in administration, culminating in His Eternal Majesty¡¯s brilliant Third Compromise ¡ª the establishment of a new Outlands.¡± The territory in question was now promptly colored in, though interestingly, a small circle within it was highlighted as if to emphasize her next point. ¡°This is where you find such places as the Transgracian Academy, and its host kingdom, the eponymous Transgracia.¡± A part of me was both relieved and intrigued to see exactly where we were on the Nexus¡¯ ¡®world map¡¯. However, another part was equally frustrated by the lack of any clear map legends or scale markers. Much to my chagrin, the trend would continue on unabated, her scepter moving back even further, highlighting an area of undulating borders beyond the Outlands. ¡°Finally, we have the unstable and still-forming regions known as the Farlands. There is little to say on this as it remains politically irrelevant. Thus, let us continue with the history of¡­¡±
Emma My eyes were locked onto the map of what I clearly recognized was the ¡®middle left hand corner¡¯ of the Nexus¡¯ discworld. Right around the ¡®nine-o-clock¡¯ mark, smack dab in the middle of the ¡®Outlands¡¯ ring. The location of both Transgracia, and the Academy. Indeed, the map was much more detailed than Articord¡¯s generalized depiction of the world, as it showed not just the Academy and the town of Elaseer, but also the entirety of the road networks that connected it to tens and hundreds more towns within this small chunk of an even greater, wider region. I counted at least two-thousand towns and just under ten cities listed on this map. A map of just the Kingdom of Transgracia. Not even taking into account its neighboring kingdoms, of which there were at least five which bordered it. And when taking into account the relatively ¡®middling¡¯ size of the country in comparison to its peers along with Articord¡¯s vague assertion of there being ¡®tens of thousands more like it¡¯ just in the western outlands alone¡­ the scale here was starting to balloon to ridiculous extremes. However, I didn¡¯t allow my mind to wander too much this time around, as I honed in on Sym¡¯s annotations, detailing the path he took to where the dragon was currently holed up at. With a swift motion from what appeared to be a set of callipers, the man began drawing and annotating similarly magical brush strokes onto the dynamic map. The whole thing¡­ looked and felt like e-ink, similar to the ¡®moving text¡¯ the Academy used on its letters and announcements. ¡°The amethyst dragon¡¯s lair is here.¡± Sym stated plainly, highlighting a forest way, way north-east from Elaseer. ¡°The North Rythian Forests, a relatively young forest with little development near or around it, let alone through it.¡± The man sighed. ¡°It took us about a day¡¯s trekking on enchanted golem steeds and monotreaders to get there. Though it should be noted that we did use the transportium network to connect us to the closest town to the forests¡ª¡± The man paused, highlighting a town a good ways away from Elaseer to the far north. ¡°¡ªthe town of Telaseer. Without the transportium? It would¡¯ve taken us a solid three to four days trek, perhaps even a week in rough conditions. However, from Telaseer, it should take you about a full day to get to the forest.¡± ¡°Aren¡¯t the transportium networks only reserved for like, nobility or those with royal charters and warrants and whatnot?¡± I countered, recalling what the late Lord Lartia told me. ¡°Aye, though it perhaps is a bit less stringent than you may think. You don¡¯t always need a Crown Warrant. Sometimes, just being a ¡®regular old¡¯ Nexian noble is fine and dandy for the odd jaunt or lazy stroll or what-have-you. Typically, most areas of the transportium are free reign for those of the Landed and Entrusted nobility, though there are certain areas that require explicit warrants from the Crown to access. For the most part however, the Outlands lack any of those sensitive areas.¡± The man explained, prompting me to cock my head in response. ¡°I¡¯m assuming though, since you¡¯re not a Landed or Entrusted noble, that you hold a warrant?¡± ¡°Aye, of sorts. We¡¯re Crown-Registered adventurers, see?¡± Sym spoke, twirling his fingers for the dramatic Thulvahn to pull out what appeared to be a rolled up document with an official looking seal on it. Unfurling it, a picture-perfect portrait of all four adventures were presented front and center, complete with personal details such as age, race, appearance, as well as their adventurer rank and title. All four of them even did a little dumb grin to match the grins present on their official registration, garnering a little snicker from my end. ¡°I apologize for not clarifying earlier, my lady.¡± The man dipped his head down in a show of apologetics. ¡°But Crown-Registered adventurers hold something of a similar privilege, by virtue of our professions, in the free-rein use of transportiums, within reason.¡± ¡°No need to apologize, Sym. I was just curious.¡± I nodded, as the man promptly continued on from there. We refocused our attention on the map, now honing in on the local area where the dragon was. ¡°In any case, the dragon resides here.¡± The man pointed his callipers at the center of the forest. ¡°You can¡¯t see it from this official map, but beneath the dense canopy lies a large rocky hill with a cave nestled next to a small stream. There exists no roads or paths that lead towards it, so we charted our own, and got within three hundred or so paces from it.¡± More annotations were made on the map, first around the dragon¡¯s cave, then towards a path highlighting the most navigable route from the closest dirt road. ¡°It is about a thousand paces from the nearest dirt trail.¡± He clarified. More annotations were drawn, now highlighting the aforementioned dirt trail, and a series of meandering dirt paths that zig-zagged their way through and then finally out of the forest in question. ¡°Getting to the forest itself is no issue. But navigating your way through the forest becomes a bit tricky.¡± The dwarf took a moment to compose himself, his features shifting to something far less casual, or even professional, framing his next words as more of a warning than anything. ¡°I must be clear about something, my lady. I say this with no judgement nor doubt over your capacity or character, but as a man who wishes to fulfil my duties to the best of my abilities.¡± He began, as he gestured towards one of the clauses in the contract. ¡°As this is a scouting mission, it is within my services to inform you not only of the location of this beast, but the dangers it and the surrounding environment poses.¡± He took another deep breath. ¡°Considering your armor, I doubt I need to warn you of the dangers posed by the spores of the forest¡¯s mushrooms or any other environmental danger besides the threat of quicksand and mud pits. Of which this forest has none, considering its rather temperate climate.¡± He gestured towards the map, highlighting some areas annotated with rather toony drawings of mushrooms. ¡°However, it is the dragon I wish to warn you of. Because the manner in which we secured the dragon¡¯s location so quickly was through the unwitting sacrifices of others that came before us.¡± The man finally grabbed hold of the scorched equipment from earlier, laying it out on the table, along with a surprisingly pristine cylindrical tube. Without wasting time, the dwarf popped the cap open to reveal the contents within. ¡°A royal warrant.¡± Ilunor observed in between sips of tea. ¡°One issued for the capture of the dragon, no doubt?¡± ¡°Aye, my lord.¡± The man nodded, bowing deeply towards the deluxe kobold. ¡°We discovered a literal trail of failed missions. Men-at-arms, arriving by the caravan. Yet none of them made it past the threshold of the dirt roads. It was only because we decided to leave our conveyances that we were able to slip past the dragon¡¯s sight.¡± ¡°And even so, it wasn¡¯t long before it saw us and chased us outta there.¡± Kintor quickly added, a shiver of fear coloring her voice. ¡°Hence the scorch marks and such, no doubt?¡± I offered, garnering a nod from all four. ¡°We were only able to make it out of there because of the dragon¡¯s¡­ mercy.¡± Sym postulated. ¡°I assume it is not indiscriminate in its hostilities. For it attacked caravans and formations of men at arms with great prejudice, but not us. I¡­ may be well into the realm of conjecture here, but I¡¯m assuming that it chose to spare us, as it saw us as mere intruders rather than those that would do it harm.¡± This answer seemed to garner the raise of several brows, with Ilunor especially turning his nose up at the man. ¡°This actually begs a really important question.¡± I began. ¡°You¡¯re talking as if the dragon is intelligent and smart, but you still refer to it as an ¡®it.¡¯ Now, you¡¯ll have to excuse my ignorance here, but are Nexian dragons actually sapient? Or are they just ¡®animals¡¯?¡± ¡°They¡¯re sentient.¡± Ilunor answered bluntly. ¡°Not sapient.¡± He concluded. ¡°Animals, not people.¡± ¡°If I may, my lord, ancient legends say that a select few were, at one point, sapient.¡± Piamon offered, the greater slime clearly being the only one from the adventurer¡¯s side of things that could stand up to him, by virtue of his own noble heritage. ¡°Those were ancient legends.¡± Ilunor shot back. ¡°And even so, those were, as you said yourself ¡ª a select few. More specifically, the Great Dragons of the Vunerian Mountains who ruled over the kobolds and typical dragons of old.¡± The Vunerian sighed, taking a swig of tea in between his words. ¡°Even then, their numbers were mere pittances. Moreover, this rare breed of thinking dragons were the size of entire strongholds. This amethyst dragon clearly does not fit any of these descriptors.¡± The deluxe kobold concluded. I turned to both Thacea and Thalmin at that answer, the former of which nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°Aye¡­¡± Sym quickly added. ¡°The beast we met was certainly quite an intelligent creature, but not sapient. Not at all.¡± The man breathed in deeply, slowly sliding the warrant back into its case. ¡°Forgive me for overstepping my bounds once again, my lady, but I must ask¡­ what exactly do you need the dragon¡¯s location for?¡± His voice darkened. ¡°Well¡­¡± ¡°We need one of its crystals.¡± Ilunor answered audaciously. ¡°For a school class project, and as a goal for our Class Sovereign gambit.¡± That answer¡­ was actually decent. Though it was clear Thalmin had some issue with it, owing to a sharp glance he cast towards Ilunor. In a rare disconnect in our consensus¡¯ though, I wasn¡¯t at all annoyed by this particular save. If anything¡­ I was impressed. Craning my eyeballs over to Thacea, it was clear she was just as impressed as I was at Ilunor¡¯s quick thinking. Because despite it being a bit¡­ blunt, it was a logical next step off of Thalmin¡¯s original cover-story. That being, this whole thing was ¡®a personal academic matter¡¯. ¡°I am, if nothing, a frank and earnest man.¡± He quickly added, forcing me to hold in a chuckle. Nevertheless, as believable as that answer may be, the group in front of us¡­ was still nothing short of stunned by that answer. ¡°I¡¯d assumed something of the sort.¡± Sym sighed dourly. ¡°And is it only one of its crystals that you seek, or the dragon¡¯s head as a trophy?¡± He practically mumbled out. ¡°Just its crystal.¡± I answered. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say I¡¯m relieved to hear that, my lady. But at the very least, it takes the danger from near-assured death, down to extremely hazardous and life-threatening.¡± The man paused, leveling his eyes towards me with severe intent. ¡°I¡¯m assuming it¡¯s possible then? As in, the procurement of a dragon¡¯s crystals without actually killing it or getting into a full on life or death fight?¡± I asked, prompting the man to pinch the bridge of his nose, drawing out a long sigh in the process. ¡°Aye, there are ways.¡± The man began dourly. ¡°But I must ask again, are you certain about such a foolish venture?¡± I maintained my gaze ¡ª fruitless as that might¡¯ve been ¡ª as I delivered my next few words without a glimmer of hesitation. ¡°Yes. Now tell me, what options do I have?¡± Chapter 121: Chekhovs Railgun Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Ambassadorial District. Adventurer¡¯s Guild Hall of Elaseer. Guild Master¡¯s Office. Local Time: 1935 Hours. Emma Five plans had been drafted up. Each one more ludicrous than the last. All of which were illustrated prominently on the blackboard the bat-like Thulvahn had dragged in, the man well and truly living up to his bardic title. Everything from the dragon and its lair down to my armor ¡ª and in particular my helmet ¡ª was drawn with these super shaky lines. The style lended itself well to the dynamic movements and action-packed ¡®frames¡¯ that accompanied each plan. Resulting in the whole thing looking more like a storyboard for a science fantasy comic rather than anything even remotely resembling a proper battle plan. From the first plan, which required the introduction of more hostile beasts, to the last plan, which admittedly broke the pattern of outrageous brainstorming, there was definitely a lot of thought being put into these propositions. Though admittedly, not a lot of practical gains could be extracted from them. ¡°Right, let¡¯s take it from the top.¡± I began, letting out a slight exhale as I stepped up, standing next to ¡ª and towering a good few heads ¡ª above Thulvahn. ¡°Plan number one ¡ª calling upon a familiar, or a hoard of loaned familiars?¡± I asked frankly, trying my best to hold back my disbelief. ¡°Yes, my lady! You see, I believe that the best plan of attack is one where you needn¡¯t even be on the offensive!¡± The man beamed, taking on this car salesman-like persona as he grinned as wide as his little maw could manage. ¡°Why risk your own life when you can instead risk the life of your own thralls!¡± He began, though just as quickly shifted inwardly, immediately turning timid upon hearing the words that just came out of his own mouth. The glares from everyone present definitely hammered home the awkwardness of that unfortunate phrasing. ¡°Er, what I meant to say was, given the wildly dangerous nature of the dragon, it might be best to allow nature to take its course. Call upon beasts to fight the dragon, and in the process, a few crystals should be ripped out as collateral!¡± Thalmin was the first to voice his concerns at this plan, turning towards me just for a moment as if to ask to speak on my behalf. ¡°With all due respect, adventurer, this plan lacks both guarantee and agency.¡± He began, listing those two points by raising one finger after another. ¡°We lack any assurance that a crystal would even be knocked off the dragon for the former, and we are reduced to mere observers when it comes to the latter.¡± ¡°I apologize, mercenary prince.¡± The bat-man bowed deeply in a show of apologetics. ¡°I should have prefaced this by saying that this plan hedges on a mage with mastery over familiar summons. As I¡¯ve seen plenty a beastmaster managing to do a great many impossible things with their beasts, including directing them as if they were golems on a battlefield. I was hoping you could do the same, directing familiars to target the dragon¡¯s crystals specifically.¡± The pocket monster plan¡­ I thought amusingly to myself. ¡°Well, we can immediately disregard it.¡± Thalmin rebutted. ¡°We are neither tamers nor beast masters.¡± ¡°Such a thing is far beneath our station.¡± Ilunor quickly added, as if to save face. This merely elicited some neutral blinks and several nods, as I began pointing at the second¡­ very questionable plan. ¡°Ah, yes! Plan two!¡± The bard proclaimed brightly. ¡°Illusions! Simply have a grand illusionist conjure up an attractive dragon to distract or potentially even¡ª¡± ¡°STOP!¡± All four of us shouted in unison, putting the idea down in its tracks. ¡°I cannot believe you would even dare entertain such a debased idea in front of us.¡± Ilunor seethed, the man clearly more offended than anyone else present given his mastery over illusory magic. ¡°Very well, my lord.¡± Thulvahn bowed deeply, simply moving his clawed hand down to point number three. ¡°Plan three! We bait the dragon with food! Now, as we all know, amethyst dragons, like most other gem-based dragons, hunger not merely for meat but for minerals.¡± He grinned, once more turning to Ilunor. ¡°I believe you may know this best, my lord.¡± The Vunerian didn¡¯t reply, merely glaring deep into the man¡¯s soul, causing him to flinch. ¡°The idea is simple. We bait the dragon and then, while it¡¯s distracted, we¡ª¡± ¡°I will not sacrifice my precious jewels for such a flight of fantasy.¡± Ilunor cut the man off before turning towards me. ¡°I must make this clear, Cadet Emma Booker. You will not be using my precious jewels as if they were worms on a hook!¡± ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s no need to waste your breath there, Ilunor. The bait idea is just¡­ too risky, I think.¡± I offered, prompting the bat-man to move on to the fourth point on the list. ¡°Plan four it is.¡± He spoke brightly, before pointing at the convoluted set-up that would¡¯ve made even the looniest of toons seem tame by comparison. ¡°We attack from below. With some clever mathematics and subterranean expertise, we dig a hole directly underneath the dragon where it sleeps.¡± My eyes followed the diagram behind the man as it detailed a funny little doodle of what was clearly Sym, tunneling through to the cave and then chiseling out a small hole beneath a sleeping dragon. ¡°Following which, we quickly procure ourselves one of its gems and then escape down the small tunnel we came from!¡± ¡°At which point we might as well be running headfirst into the dragon.¡± Thalmin growled out. ¡°Do you honestly believe the dragon wouldn¡¯t simply rise upon feeling one of its gems being chiseled out?¡± ¡°I was hoping someone could potentially utilize a spell with which to knock the dragon out¡ª¡± ¡°I am afraid you overestimate our current capabilities, adventurer.¡± Thacea interjected this time around. ¡°Such a task requires¡­ a mage with skills far beyond the caliber of first-years. A dragon¡¯s mind, despite its bestial nature, is after all quite difficult to influence.¡± ¡°Understood, your royal highness.¡± Thulvahn acknowledged, before moving on to what was probably the most ¡®practical¡¯ idea. ¡°Plan five. We simply walk around the forests until we find ourselves a crystal. Considering how many engagements the dragon has had with men-at-arms and local beasts, I assume that at least one crystal fragment can be found somewhere.¡± The man muttered out, as if he was about ready to give up. ¡°Time-consuming¡­ but probably the most reasonable plan out of all of them.¡± Thalmin concurred, nodding with closed eyes, miming the movements of both the guild master and Sym. ¡°Why does it always have to be the least exciting one¡­¡± Thulvahn mumbled to himself before sitting back down. ¡°I must warn you, considering the size of the forest, this particular plan may take quite a while to accomplish.¡± ¡°Moreover, it still relies on chance rather than any form of assuredness.¡± Thalmin quickly added. ¡°Exactly!¡± The man beamed back with a sudden burst of confidence, though he just as quickly reeled himself back in upon locking eyes with the lupinor. ¡°Er, my lord.¡± He promptly added. ¡°In any case, I believe this should conclude our consultation.¡± I offered, turning to the magical clock at the far end of the room, as Sorecar¡¯s cautious warnings were still fresh on my mind. ¡°I appreciate the¡­ creativity on display here, Adventurer Thulvahn.¡± I offered politely, causing the bard to puff up his chest in response. ¡°Thank you, my lady!¡± ¡°Though considering everything you¡¯ve been through, I believe all of you deserve a well-earned rest. So I won¡¯t be taking much more of your time.¡± I concluded diplomatically, gesturing for Ilunor to hand over the sack of gold. ¡°As promised, your payment.¡± I spared no time whilst savoring the moment to untie the top of the sack, allowing it to drop with a satisfying clinky THUD onto the table in front of us. Gold coins practically spilled from the top following that stunt, forming a respectable pile which caught the full and undivided attention of both kobolds present ¡ª deluxe and otherwise ¡ª along with Thulvahn. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to do that¡­¡± I muttered to myself under a muted microphone. What happened next was a brief tallying of the gold coins in front of Piamon, followed shortly by the arrival of the receptionist, who began sorting the coins through what I could only describe as an old-timey coin sorter. ¡°Genuine and up-to-date, Master Piamon.¡± The elf announced politely, before nodding and leaving the room just as abruptly as she¡¯d arrived. ¡°Right then.¡± The slime began, as he turned towards both me and Sym. ¡°Quest giver, Adventurers. Are there any points of contention either party would wish to raise?¡± My eyes locked with Sym¡¯s, as we both turned towards the slime and spoke in unison. ¡°No, guild master.¡± ¡°Quest giver.¡± Piamon focused on me this time around. ¡°Do you find all the terms of the contract have been fulfilled and upheld?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded. ¡°Adventurers.¡± Piamon quickly turned towards Sym. ¡°Do you wish to raise any issues with the compensation of your labor?¡± ¡°No, guild master.¡± The dwarf bowed. ¡°Well then, considering all parties are satisfied, I hereby proclaim this quest¡­¡± The slime paused as he jumped up towards one of the cabinets, grabbing a stamp before careening back down onto his desk at significant speeds, slamming the quest contract with a satisfying THUD. ¡°Complete!¡± He announced vibrantly, holding up the contract with a single slime tendril, pointing at a wax-seal stamp of his own slime form now fixed onto the parchment. ¡°This particular quest will be filed into my personal vault. So following your departure, none of us shall speak of this quest unless all are present in front of this contract.¡± We all bowed at that and began shuffling out of the room wordlessly. With one party now primed with information, and the other now loaded with the fruits of Ilunor¡¯s impromptu sports betting ventures. However, I couldn¡¯t stay entirely silent while we made our way down the stairs, as I turned towards Sym with a smile beneath my helmet. ¡°Y¡¯know, I was wondering if there¡¯s a way we could stay in touch? Just in case I require your services again?¡± The man turned towards me, but while I could make out a warm expression, I couldn¡¯t really tell if he was smiling beneath both his beard and moustache. He quickly reached for one of his pouches, grabbing what appeared to be a business card in the process. ¡°Aye, though unlike other adventurers we don¡¯t necessarily have a base of operations so¡ª¡± ¡°Our previous base was repossessed¡­ along with our wagon. But all that might just change because of your¡ª!¡± Thulvahn muttered out, only to be shot down with a stern glare from Sym. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± He apologized meekly. ¡°Our company is currently based out of this guild hall. However, if things do change¡ª¡± The dwarf paused, turning to shoot the bat-man another glare. ¡°¡ªI will leave a note with the receptionist as to our new lodgings.¡± ¡°Thank you, Sym.¡± ¡°The pleasure is all mine, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± We parted ways on the second floor, with Sym and his gang entering a door marked with a brass and wood sign engraved with the words: ADVENTURERS ONLY. A few barely-contained cheers and the distinctive clinking of gold coins quickly arrived shortly thereafter, very much audible even behind closed doors, marking the end of Sym¡¯s adventure but ushering in the start of my own. Our departure from the guild hall was¡­ certainly a bit different this time around however. As there were more than a couple of eyes watching our every move while we made our way through the lobby. Garna, Loris, and a whole host of unnamed adventurer trainees kept their eyes on us through the main dining hall, prompting me to give them all a passing wave. I was rewarded with distant ¡®thank yous¡¯ and a few cheers as a result. Which prompted Ilunor to eventually ask me something unexpected, just as we left the guild hall proper. ¡°While I understand your bonus to Sym and his sorry troupe, I do not understand your proclivities for charity when it comes to these trainee adventurers, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± Ilunor announced as I began grabbing hold of what was left of his shopping bags from the trolley. ¡°Charity for the sake of building connections, forging a face, and investing in future alliances is a smart long-term strategy. However, I doubt you¡¯ll be making the Nexus your next home, let alone Elaseer. So I do not see the purpose in your charitable investments.¡± ¡°That¡¯s precisely the issue, Ilunor.¡± I sighed out. ¡°I don¡¯t see it as an ¡®investment¡¯. I¡¯m not doing it in order to create nor save face. Heck, it¡¯s not even a public outreach thing.¡± I shrugged. Though I¡¯d be lying if it wasn''t something that fell under the hearts and minds handbook of SIOP¡¯s soft power pointers. ¡°I just¡­ felt like I wanted to offer those kids something they probably don¡¯t get too much of.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s selfishness then.¡± Ilunor surmised, sucker-punching me with that out-of-left-field response. ¡°You said it yourself, Emma Booker. You merely felt like doing it. Perhaps to assuage some deep-seeded desire to be seen as a savior. Or perhaps, a benefactor.¡± ¡°The fact you¡¯d immediately jump to that conclusion says more about you than me, Ilunor. And that¡¯s where I¡¯m going to leave it.¡± I stated plainly, prompting the Vunerian to simply shrug as we made our way towards the Academy.
Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer en route to The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Gondola Express. Local Time: 2000 Hours. Emma Something had compelled us to take a brief change of scenery. Perhaps it was a desire to simply sit down after an entire evening¡¯s worth of shopping around town. Or perhaps, it was a pressing urgency to immediately dig into the logistical issues that came with what I was quickly dubbing the Dragon Quest. ¡°I think we¡¯re all in agreement here when I say we definitely need a plan that¡¯s more solid than just¡­ roaming around the forests until we find a stray crystal.¡± I began right after Thacea had established the privacy screen, gesticulating wildly the moment the gondola began moving upwards. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°That consultation left a lot to be desired, so I can most certainly concur, Emma.¡± Thalmin growled back in acknowledgement. ¡°I mean, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to do a whole sweep of the forest, that much I can agree with.¡± I continued. ¡°So that¡¯s probably the first thing we¡¯ll do. But honestly, that falls under standard operational protocol anyways.¡± ¡°Mapping out the terrain utilizing your¡­ ¡®drones¡¯, Emma?¡± Thalmin shot back. ¡°Correct. So spotting an errant crystal probably won¡¯t be too hard, especially if I get my infildrones to supplement my standard recon drones'' operational capacity.¡± I shrugged. ¡°But in any case, we should think of a fallback plan in case we come up with nothing.¡± Thalmin paused, cradling his snout as he looked out of the gondola, deep in thought. The darkness here truly was¡­ dark, with only the town illuminating the world around it. Though if I were to squint a bit, I could actually make out a few of the main roads leading out of town, snaking through the idyllic countryside like orange and yellow fluorescent veins pulsating with whatever magical fire was inside the lanterns that lined them. ¡°We could slay it.¡± The wolf prince spoke abruptly, garnering everyone¡¯s attention. A brief ¡®lock¡¯ of our eyes however prompted the man to simply sigh and shrug. ¡°Though it is understandable that you wouldn¡¯t wish to go that far.¡± He conceded. ¡°I won¡¯t say it¡¯s completely out of the question, Thalmin.¡± I acknowledged begrudgingly. ¡°The mission¡­ is vital. However, I¡¯d rather we not antagonize a creature that¡¯s already gone through literal hell. I can only imagine the sorts of things it¡¯s been through down in the life archives.¡± I visibly shuddered. ¡°An honorable notion.¡± Thalmin spoke firmly with a single dip of his head. ¡°Though I must stress something, Emma.¡± He quickly added, his tone growing increasingly severe. ¡°If it comes to the point where slaying it is the only assured path towards accomplishing your mission, then we must be decisive.¡± His eyes narrowed, something burning hot behind those amber pupils. ¡°There can be no hesitation.¡± He emphasized sternly, pressing me on my admittedly timid concession. ¡°If we reach a point where all non-lethal options are exhausted, then of course, Thalmin.¡± I conceded, finally drawing out a firm nod from the wolf. ¡°Very well. Then let us discuss our options.¡± We prattled on for a solid five minutes, throwing everything and the kitchen sink at the proverbial idea-wall to see what actually stuck. By the end of it, however, we¡¯d managed to come up with something that was at least somewhat respectable. A plan that was both simple and straightforward, yet fraught with just as many unknowns as one of Thulvahn¡¯s harebrained schemes. ¡°You¡¯re certain your weapon will be able to shear through one of its crystals?¡± Thalmin inquired skeptically. ¡°Yeah. The science team back home has had experience with cutting one of its crystals in half, remember? That means I can guesstimate just how much force will be needed to crack it.¡± The lupinor prince¡¯s eyes quickly shifted to my hip, or more accurately, the weapon held within its magnetic holster. ¡°I admit, your¡­ bullets are quite formidable. But I highly doubt that they will be sufficient to inflict the necessary damage, Emma.¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯re definitely right on the money there, Thalmin.¡± I confessed through a barely restrained grin. ¡°Though thankfully, I¡¯m packing much more heat than that old thing.¡± I continued cryptically, moving my eyeballs to authorize the next few motions. My heart filled with an untamable giddiness as soon as I heard the EVI replying with three arming tones. This prompted me to raise my left arm up in a swift vertical motion, balling my hand into a fist as the panels on the suit¡¯s forearm separated and receded with two satisfying Ka-Chunks! The weapon¡¯s deployment came as quickly as I¡¯d moved my arm into the standard ARMING motion, accompanied by the soft and barely audible whirring of motors and serenaded by the ominous and otherworldly thrums of surging energy. Blink once, and you¡¯d miss the vertical deployment of the base of the weapon ¡ª a thick, solid composalite platform that held atop of it an unassuming rectangular bar of metal about half the width of the suit¡¯s forearm. Blink twice, and you¡¯d miss the horizontal expansion of the weapon ¡ª a solid rectangular tube rapidly unfolded, snapping and extending upwards towards my fist in what I could only describe as a cross between the telescopic motions of an accordion and a spyglass. With the former analogy being bizarrely more accurate, as thick fabric-like membranes covered much of what would otherwise be telescoping joints where dust and debris could easily infiltrate. Resulting in a gun that more resembled one of those ancient folding bellows-cameras. Blink thrice? And that¡¯d probably be the last time you close your eyes. Though thankfully, the gang would have the pleasure of surviving the ¡®five seconds to kill¡¯ battle drill that all power armored specialists had seared into their muscle memory. I was reminded of the few times Aunty Ran sometimes even pulled that ¡®fist-up¡¯ motion out of reflex whenever she got spooked. Thalmin¡¯s eyes widened with both curiosity and excitement, his pupils fixated on the sheer length of the weapon¡¯s barrel that had extended a good ways past my fist. Thacea, on the other hand, inspected the accordion-like fabric between each successive section of the barrel carefully, as if trying to make out its drastically divergent aesthetic from the rest of my weapons and equipment so far. It was Ilunor, however, who raised a brow, his head cocking as he noticed the various patterns and etching on said fabric. The man eventually landed on a conclusion I was honestly surprised to hear. ¡°These are to dissipate the heat generated by whatever foul forces are at play within this¡­ construct, I presume?¡± My mouth hung agape at that. Something that the Vunerian seemed to pick up on even through the armor. ¡°Do not take me for a fool, Cadet Emma Booker. You would be wise to recall the nature of my realm, yes? A realm of great heat naturally calls for a means to dispel it. And whilst magic is used for the most part, I am not ignorant to the pre-contemporary means of dispelling it.¡± The man shrugged. ¡°Right.¡± I acknowledged, meeting the Vunerian¡¯s eyes before shifting over to Thalmin¡¯s with a wide and expressive grin. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve run the numbers and if the data I have on the crystal is anything to go by, then I can confirm that this is what¡¯ll do the job.¡± I practically cackled out. ¡°The Mark VII Type XXII variant, Model 2777 Compact Rail Accelerator ¡ª or as TSEC power armored specialists like to call it ¡ª the accordion gun.¡± With a flex of my hand, the heat-dissipating fabric came to settle along the gun¡¯s telescopic joints. ¡°The Expeditionary version with the upgraded capacitors and field-strippable collapsible radiators, if I might add. A rather vintage model to pair with the power armor, definitely giving off intrasolar EVA suit vibes with its external fabric components¡­¡± I trailed off, cutting myself off before I began geeking out about this fine piece of military hardware. ¡°But yes, while the moon gun is definitely out of its league when it comes to its piercing power¡ª¡± I paused, slapping the weapon holstered by my hip for emphasis. ¡°¡ªthis bad boy definitely won¡¯t have the same problem going straight through the dragon¡¯s crystals.¡± I gestured towards the unprimed weapon pridefully, all the while making sure it wasn¡¯t pointed at anything I didn¡¯t want at the end of the barrel as per basic safety protocol. Speaking of which, I quickly collapsed the whole thing back into its forearm compartment, causing all three present to merely glance at one another in varying levels of¡­ concern. ¡°I will not mention Academy regulations when it comes to non-ceremonial weapons, Emma¡­¡± Thacea muttered out. ¡°Nor will I delve further into the inner workings of that weapon for the sake of staving your unending rambles on such niche matters¡­¡± ¡°Hey, what they don¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt them. Besides, between you and me? This is merely a¡­ tool. A heavy demolition tool or a particularly heavy-duty deconstruction tool for my equipment.¡± I winked, garnering an uninterrupted two-second sigh from Thacea. ¡°Go on.¡± She gestured dismissively towards both me and Thalmin. ¡°You¡¯ll definitely have to give me a personal demonstration of that artifice sometime later, Emma.¡± Thalmin began with a wide and fanged grin only to be shot down just as quickly by Thacea. ¡°Juuuust so I can personally gauge its efficacy against the amethyst dragon¡¯s crystals, nothing more.¡± He quickly added, raising both of his hands in the process. ¡°In any case, if your weapon is indeed up to such a task, the next problem I foresee is how we proceed after we¡­ ¡®extract¡¯ said crystal.¡± He offered. ¡°Because as it stands right now, we¡¯re treating the dragon as if it were a null actor. Our current plans fail to take into account exactly how we should contend with the dragon following a successful long-range extraction.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ you do raise a very good point there. I mean, sniping the dragon from afar before sending one of the drones in to retrieve the crystal is still the most solid and minimally invasive way of going about it, I think. However, it¡¯s actually evading an angry dragon out for revenge that¡¯s the problem.¡± I admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d be willing to sacrifice more of your ¡®drones¡¯ as bait to distract the dragon while we retrieve the crystal?¡± ¡°I¡¯d rather we not be too frivolous with mission-pertinent resources, Thalmin. But, we can definitely try the distraction plan with something else. I¡¯m actually liking that now, actually.¡± I could feel the cogs in our collective heads turning now, as the minor kinks in the plan were ironed out¡­ or at least, as ironed out as they could be on this gondola ride trip. There were definitely still a lot of variables that needed to be accounted for. Variables that Thacea would eventually be more than happy to indulge in as we continued the conversation through the halls within a privacy screen, up until we finally reached our room.
Dragon¡¯s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 2100 Hours. Emma ¡°I¡¯m happy to see the both of you so enthusiastic about this endeavor.¡± The princess began, just as the door closed behind us. ¡°And while I hate to be the tether to pull a pair of soarers back down to ground, I am afraid there are matters of logistics which must be discussed.¡± That one word managed to capture both of our attentions, as we sat down, while Ilunor began opening up bags upon bags of still-piping-hot snacks. ¡°Tell me, you don¡¯t happen to believe this mission will be completed in a mere weekend, now do you?¡± Thacea questioned. A collective silence rang out as that question¡¯s only response, prompting the princess to continue unabated. ¡°I need not remind you of our current place within the Nexus and what responsibilities we are beholden to as students of one of its most prestigious academies. I think both of you understand the degree of scrutiny we will all be put under, should any of us fail to attend a single class for reasons other than sickness or mere academic dishonesty.¡± ¡°We are already in deep and murky waters as is.¡± Ilunor quickly chimed in, taking a bite out of a piece of pastry. ¡°Moreover, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re about to broach a second but easily just as vital a topic, aren¡¯t you, princess?¡± Thacea nodded, before relaying Ilunor¡¯s second concern to us. ¡°Secondly, we must discuss the distances involved in your journey to the North Rythian forests. For there are functional limitations when it comes to the use of the transportium network.¡± I blinked at that second point, turning to Ilunor expectantly. ¡°I¡­ assumed you¡¯d be the one taking us there, Ilunor?¡± ¡°And there we go with your presumptuousness, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The man sighed out. ¡°Putting my personal reservations about this whole debacle aside, I simply cannot take you there by virtue of it being a practical impossibility.¡± I cocked my head at this. ¡°And why not? I thought Sym made it pretty clear that Nexian nobles are¡ª¡± ¡°Nexian nobles are allowed this privilege, yes.¡± The deluxe kobold interjected, waiting for me to grasp his meaning. It took me only a second to get it. ¡°So you¡¯re saying only you are able to go through, no questions asked?¡± ¡°Precisely, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± ¡°But that doesn¡¯t make any sense¡­ I assume nobles don¡¯t just go on strolls through the transportium alone. Like, there¡¯s obviously going to be attendants, servants, security, and so on and so forth. What about¡ª¡± ¡°Your ability to grasp yet fumble such simple logical assertions never fails to amuse me, earthrealmer.¡± Ilunor chided with his signature smug and puntable grin. ¡°You see, you are correct. Nobles will almost always have some form of retinue. However, it is the nature of these retainers that allows them access through the transportium.¡± I paused, my eyes growing wide as I thought back to Rila. ¡°They¡¯re¡­ officially part of your party. Legally and bound by contract then. That¡¯s what allows them to go through with you.¡± ¡°Precisely, Cadet Emma Booker.¡± The Vunerian nodded politely. ¡°Moreover, there is a long and frankly frustrating process of obtaining approval for such a warrant. Which is typically fine for most situations¡­¡± Ilunor paused, before looking at Thalmin and I up and down. ¡°But not for our particular circumstances.¡± ¡°We¡¯re also adjacent realmers, Emma.¡± Thacea added with a sigh. ¡°And with how much scrutiny you¡¯re under, it is unlikely that we will be able to proceed in that particular direction.¡± I grimaced at that, letting out a deep sigh only to cling onto Thacea¡¯s final few words. ¡°Wait, you said this particular direction. Are you saying there¡¯s another way?¡± This piqued Thalmin¡¯s interest, though not necessarily Ilunor¡¯s. ¡°The course syllabus might not have fully expanded on this for reasons of Academy intrigue. However, it is widely known that there exists a series of quests which the Academy occasionally issues to students, granting the prospective quest-taker temporary access to the wider Nexus and, in turn, access to its transportium network.¡± ¡°These quests are infrequently frequent.¡± Ilunor quickly chimed in. ¡°With the first of which coincidentally poised to be announced tomorrow, in Professor Belnor¡¯s class.¡± The cogs in my brain started spinning into overdrive now, as I turned to both Ilunor and Thacea with an expectant gaze. ¡°And since this is an Academy-issued quest, this¡¯ll address both of our logistical issues. Both the absence thing, and our access to the transportium network.¡± ¡°Precisely, Emma.¡± Thacea acknowledged, though she was quickly overtaken by a somewhat deflated Ilunor. ¡°If this entire debacle had taken place prior to my disillusionment with the black-robed professor¡¯s station, then I would¡¯ve taken this as an opportunity to leap forward into the fray of Class Sovereignship.¡± The man quickly sighed, placing the back of his hand atop his forehead in a display that practically screamed ¡®woe is me.¡¯ ¡°Alas, such ventures are now more of a liability than a boon.¡± ¡°Right.¡± I sighed in acknowledgement. ¡°Okay, well, I guess that¡¯s sorted.¡± My eyes shifted sharply towards the window, focusing in on the lit-up roads over in the distance. Thacea, rather coincidentally, decided to bring up the next point currently brewing in my head. ¡°Though even with the transportium, there is still the matter of your own means of conveyance, Emma.¡± She began. ¡°It took Sym an entire day¡¯s travel to reach the forests on both enchanted steeds and monotreaders. Considering your¡­ predispositions and your inability to utilize enchanted artifices, I don¡¯t suppose the speeds you¡¯ve demonstrated in physical education can be sustained for the entire journey to the forests?¡± This question¡­ prompted a smile to form at the edges of my face, as my eyes quickly shifted up my HUD towards one of the many projects I¡¯d been lining up for the dragon quest. ¡°While I think I could hoof it, I believe I have better options I can consider.¡± I began with a sly chuckle. ¡°EVI?¡± ¡°Yes, Cadet Booker?¡± ¡°Getting the EMMV printed out might be a bit too ambitious given our time crunch. So how about we print out the Martian Opportunity.¡± ¡°Acknowledged. Assessing available materials¡­ standby¡­ assessment complete. Available materials sufficient for designated project. Allocating materials and resources. Stand by to feed listed materials into the [Printer].¡± [New Project Designated: Printing and Assembly of the Adaptive Terrain Two-Wheeled Vehicle (AT2WV) Model: Martian Opportunity V4c.] I tapped my foot in excitement while my mind absolutely buzzed, my imagination conjuring up vivid mental images that juxtaposed the pinnacle of classic motorbike design with the anachronisms of a fantasy world. The harsh curves, uncompromising practicality, and sheer bulk of Martian automotive engineering ¡ª a workhorse that¡¯d seen service from the Martian badlands all the way to the Keplerian frontier ¡ª clashing hard against the opulence and 18th century flair of Nexian extravagance. However, before my excitement could ascend to new heights, I was once again brought down to earth by the whiny shrills of a certain deluxe kobold. ¡°Other options? Your heft and weight bar you from most, if not all, mounts save for those bred for cargo, while your manaless predispositions prevent you from partaking in enchanted conveyances. So tell me, what options is it you speak of? Because as it stands, your only means of transport is by the power of your own two legs¡ª¡± The man paused, reaching for his forehead, feigning a look of startled realization. ¡°¡ªor is it? Perhaps this so-called alternative isn¡¯t a conveyance nor steed, but the revelation that you yourself are the steed!¡± ¡°What are you getting at here, Ilunor?¡± I sighed out in frustration. ¡°Only the possibility that you may be leading up to yet another revelation. One which fits more in line with your demonstrations in physical education, rather than those impressive feats as seen on your sight-seer. In essence, given your trevails in the former, I am postulating that there may be more to your kind¡¯s aptitude for long distance running. Perhaps¡­ you will soon reveal your more beastly traits, of the quadrupedal variety. All for the sake of overcoming your lack of conveyances, of course.¡± I allowed those words to hang in the air for a few moments, eyeing Ilunor with a tired look of incredulity hidden away by the helmet. ¡°Well, earthrealmer? What do you¡ª¡± Click! With one swift motion, I unlatched the datatab from its holster. ¡°You¡¯re right about one thing, Ilunor.¡± I began with a renewed vigor. ¡°What I¡¯m about to reveal, is considered by most in my realm to be quite beastly indeed.¡± The man¡¯s cocksure grin grew, if only for a moment. ¡°But the beast in question isn¡¯t yours truly, no. Instead, it¡¯s a lovely piece of engineering that is by all definitions a beast in its own right.¡± I grinned widely, as the tablet generated a hologram right on cue. All eyes now landed on the rotating projection of the V4c, the pride of martian engineering, and the poster child of martian exceptionalism.