Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (145/?) WiP 1

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 145 I hope you guys enjoy! :D

The Next Day

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 1225 Hours

Thacea

There was a certain sense of… normalcy that came with the fourth day periods. 

It lacked the explosive rhetoric that drenched Professor Articord’s lessons. Yet it wasn’t as basic and inoffensively bland as was the case with Professor Vanavan’s lectures. 

I couldn’t yet compare it to Professor Mal’tory’s classes… as Apprentice Larial — and now Professor Sorecar — were very much not representative of the elf’s proclivities. Or at least that’s what I assumed.

Physical Education, meanwhile, was another matter entirely. In that my opinions of such a frankly arduous course was as self evident as any other self respecting highborn peer. 

All of this was to say — despite the banality of Potions as a subject — there was indeed something compelling to be found. 

… 

Which was much more than I could say for Ilunor’s inane tirades into the bizarre, as he plodded from conversation topic to conversation topic, unable to commit, or rather unable to understand that I had little patience for trivial drivel when our interests simply did not align.

But the man Vunerian was not an idiot.

Rather, he was simply… stubborn, to a fault.

Which meant I should have expected the non-sequiter that followed.

“Are you betrothed?” 

That question emerged with the same inexplicable nature as any one of Emma’s actions. 

My eyes narrowed as I shifted gently in my seat, setting both teaspoon and teacup down with a calculated poise that any noble worth their etiquette would read as a rude rebuff. 

“Excuse me?” I shot back sharply.

“I’m merely asking a question, Princess. Are you or are you not betrothed?” He stood his ground, wearing that signature Vunerian smirk that had not merely found home on his visage, but that had since claimed regency over his entire persona.

“You are being rather forward, Ilunor—”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Princess.” The Vunerian interjected, shaking his head as he did so. “Seeing as this conversation has grown rather one-sided, and owing to the ever encroaching march of time, I wished to introduce a topic that would undoubtedly garner your attention.” He spoke with words drenched in self-assured pride. “Judging by your fascination on all things unconventional, and seeing your rather visceral reaction to this matter, I would say my approach has succeeded, no?” 

I eyed the Vunerian down with a suspicious gaze, but eventually shrugged, deciding to tempt the fates. “Context clues would perhaps be enough to build up a conclusion for—”

“Yes, yes, but I simply wished to—”

“The answer is, no, Ilunor.” I interrupted with a pointed response, before letting out another sigh. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the silence speak for itself before continuing. “Was that all?” I shot out sharply.

“Not in the slightest.” Ilunor practically beamed out, bearing a toothy grin as he pointed to the tables around us. 

“Hmm… Auris and Ladona.” He gestured his eyes towards the table in question. “Would you say they are… courting?”

“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea—”

“Oh His Majesty you don’t!” Ilunor interjected, crossing his legs and raising his nose up at me. “Out of all of our peers I know you to be the most analytical. At least… in matters pertinent to highborns of our caliber, of course.” He insisted, and even went so far as to provide what felt less like a back-handed complement, and a genuine acknowledgement of competence.

My eyes widened, as I had to ask myself…

Where did this Ilunor come from?

“So please, humor me, princess.” He insisted, before simply shrugging and then looking the other way. “Or not. Though, you could consider this to be work of a sort.” He added slyly, as he began the tried and rather stale tactic of simply recontextualizing the request. “Consider this… a meeting of the minds. A spymaster’s circle, if only for the purposes of determining the web of connections which we may use to our advantage.”

I let out a frustrated breath, my eyes once more locking with the Vunerian over the modest spread of food  in front of us.

“Lord Ping is impulsive.” I began plainly. “Lady Ladona… while more thoughtful, is still prone to acting brashly as far as social decorum allows. Their peer group? Consisting of the now-baleful Lorsi, and the ever tepid Ciata, are neither obstacles nor impediments in the countering of whatever in-group norms either Ping or Ladona may wish to impose. This results in a lack of social reprimand, and a lack of any opposition — social or otherwise — should Ping… or even Ladona, wish to pursue… courtship.”

Ilunor’s eyes throughout this practically lit up, as he leaned in closer, as if poised for a whisper despite the practically perpetual privacy screen we both had put up.

“That’s assessing context and external factors, princess. I’m asking what you think of their dynamics! Are they interested, do they seem… viable. Is there a spark there, or is this merely the de facto rule of a King and Queen in sight alone?” 

“You’re asking me for a definitive I simply do not have an answer for—”

“I’m asking for your personal take, princess. Do you pair them, or do you not pair them?” Ilunor grinned excitedly, as if this… whatever it was, constituted as a recreational activity for his ever active mind.

I took a moment to sip the tea in front of me, letting the noble stew in his own thoughts for a while, before once more locking eyes with his excited gaze.

“Yes. Yes I do… pair them, as you say.” 

“You speak with such hesitation about this princess… don’t tell me you haven’t partaken in the age-old discussions of pairing before!”

“I had neither the time nor the privilege and opportunity for such trivial discussions, Ilunor.”

“Ah.” The Vunerian paused, immediately understanding the implications of my answer.

Though this momentary lapse in excitement passed rather quickly, and if anything, the noble seemed even more emboldened to strike further.

“We’ll make up for lost time then, shall we?” He grinned, before gesturing his eyes at Qiv’s table. “Qiv and Airit. Oh! Oh. Maybe Qiv and Rostario? Those scheming pair are a match made in the abyssal flames, I can tell you that.” He cackled.