Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (141/?)

His Eternal Majesty’s Remembrance Path | The Royal Road of Transgracia. En Route to the Township of Sips. Local Time 1125 Hours.

Emma

A tenseness fell on each and every one of us as the two guardsmen pulled up beside the jury-rigged amalgamation that was the motorcycle-drawn wagon.

Indeed, I could tell the moment when dread had taken its grip on both Alorant and Solizia, as they both froze in place; faces and all.

I, for one, thought I’d be immune to this.

But alas, there seemed to be a universal sense of anxiety that came with being pulled over by the cops. A sense of undeniable worry that came with the ramifications of what was just moments ago a fun joyride.

This was exacerbated by the slow and methodical steps of both their horses, and eventually, themselves.

As the clop clop clop of horseshoes was followed close in tow by the clanking of armor.

Yet in spite of this, it would be Thalmin who broke the mold.

From the tension in the air, to the unwavering demeanor of the guardsmen, he seemed entirely impervious to all of it.

Indeed, he maintained a stoic visage bordering on aloofness as he stared down the two would-be law enforcers.

It was because of that confidence, and the purposefulness of his chosen presence that I simply elected to stay silent, allowing the prince to take the proverbial wheel of this encounter.

“... and you are supposed to be…?” He replied candidly, almost too candidly with a noble cadence that would’ve made Ilunor blush.

This response caused almost everyone’s jaws to drop — from the guardsmen, to solizia and alorant, and even yours truly.

The guards seemed so taken aback that they landed on silently pointing to their emblazoned crests before responding. “Who do you think we are?”

“Brigands with stolen armor? Cadets on their first post? A particularly convincing act put on by a local theatre? You could be anyone for all I know. All because you refused to abide by expectant procedure.” Thalmin continued, completely smoking the pair in what I could only describe as the calm before the shitstorm you learned to spot coming a mile away in basic training.

The pair reacted to this in two vastly different ways.

The Satyr immediately stiffened up, while the elf of the pair grew increasingly impatient, choosing to point vehemently at Thalmin’s face. “And who are you to be demanding expectant procedure from us?” 

“Is being a traveler of these royal roads not sufficient for something as basic as common courtesy? Martial or otherwise?” Thalmin shot back, refusing to back down, sticking to that noble, old-fashioned officer style of cadence.

“I asked you a question, traveler.” The elf double downed. 

“And I have yet to have received anything but a defensive reply to my first question, guardsman.” Thalmin once again stood his ground, as the EVI was quick to note a strange new reading that seemed just a bit more nuanced than a mere burst of mana radiation.

[Localized Fluctuation of Manafields Detected. Attempting Visualization Overlay… 1… 27… 59… Applying Dynamic Mana Radiation Visualization Overlay Ver. 0.0.0.1.2093]

What I witnessed seemed to be less of a discrete burst, and more of a continuous shift in mana radiation interactions around us.

Or, in the spirit of Thacea’s weather vane analogy — there were some very visible changes in the wind patterns, pressure zones, and a lot of other minor interactions that the EVI tried its hand  at visualizing.

Though to be honest, it looked more like a hazy mess than anything. It felt as if I was staring at some early composite imaging of some far off celestial body, overlaid on top of crisp live footage, which just clashed rather than meshing even remotely well.

However, the context clues from the guard’s visible reactions were enough to clue me in to what Thalmin was trying to do.

“M-my lord, we didn’t realize…”

He was trying to pull out the status card as subtly as he could, and only when the pair had failed at his constant attempts for them to address their own shortcomings.

“I demand to speak with your commander, now.” Thalmin interrupted, filling in the vacant air left by the elf’s stutters.

Though interestingly, whatever Thalmin did to the local manafields was enough to garner the attention of a nearby figure. An elf dressed in robes of finery as unassuming as his small open-air carriage, signalling authority and presence simply by the crest emblazoned both on the vehicle and his simple monochromatic black, grey and white tunic. 

“That won’t be necessary, adjacent realmer.” The grey-skinned elf spoke with the breath of a man ready for a lunch break.

Indeed, the entourage that sat behind him, and the direction he came from hinted at a type of Nexian I hadn’t at all anticipated on seeing.

“My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience and lack of hospitality shown on the part of my guardsmen, Lord…” 

“Prince. Prince Thalmin Havenbrock of Havenbrockrealm.” Thalmin completed the grey elf’s words for him. “And this is Cadet Emma Booker, of Earthrealm. We’re both students of the Transgracian Academy, currently partaking on the Quest for the Everblooming Blossom.” 

“Well met.” The elf nodded abruptly. “I am Baron Qarth L’Sips, fourth of my name, fifth councilman of the Kingdom of Transgracia’s Table of Grain, and incumbent Lord and Lord Protector of the Township of Sips.” He followed up his hastened speech with another dip of his head. “Now, aside from a stern warning and a month’s retraining for these two trainee guardsmen, is there anything you wish to request of me?”

“Just safe passage through your town, Baron L’Sips. That, and access to the amenities therein, along with the transportium network.” Thalmin responded. 

“Granted — naturally — in accordance with the King’s standing treaties with the Transgracian Academy.” He shot back just as quickly.

And once again, I was thrown off by the… curtness of it all.

Because unlike our interactions with most other Nexian nobles back at the Academy, Qarth was… efficient. 

Sure, he rattled on his titles, pedigree, and credentials… but he spoke faster than almost any of his peers. 

In fact, his manner of speaking reminded me of Lartia of all people, at least when it came to how clipped his words were, and how he seemed to be working towards a goal rather than a long-winded discussion.

Or worse… a confrontational stalemate for the sake of some unnecessary power play.

“You have my utmost gratitude, Barron L’Sips.” Thalmin replied promptly. “Though I must suggest that you station someone other than Cadets at the very entrance to your—”

“Suggestion noted.” The Baron interrupted hastily, as a lizardfolk member of his entourage began handing him notebooks, scrolls, and a whole host of other documents to both read and sign off on. 

“Farming rights for Miss Arlen’s—”

“Triplicate, notaries, rubber stamps, ombudsman’s office.” He quickly shot back in rapid succession both in words and a lightning round of signatures, before shooing the man off with the same pile of papers and turning back to Thalmin.

“You must understand, Prince Havenbrock, that much of our guardsmen are currently preoccupied with the mess caused by Elaseer’s disastrous inability to contain its release of abnormal creatures. Thus, we were forced to station members of the guard who typically would not have been assigned such a role. Surely you of all adjacent realmers understand the calculus of practicality, yes?”

“Completely, Baron L’Sips.” Thalmin acknowledged with a deep nod. 

However, before the conversation reached its ultimate conclusion, another figure emerged from the tall rows of… what looked to be a cross between corn and wheat. 

“M’lord… I… wish… to… humbly…” The Satyr, dressed in a simple set of overalls and tunic attempted to speak, but failed to do so as he attempted to catch his breath.

This infuriated the baron. His brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed, before pointing at the farmhand with an outstretched hand.

I expected the worst of the Nexus at this point.

In fact, I was poised to leap to prevent a cold-blooded tragedy.

But instead—

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 275% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

—nothing happened.

Or so I thought. 

“I have no time for breathless talk. Now speak civilly and promptly, farmhand.” 

“Thank you, m’lord!”

The noble had just, for lack of a better term, refilled the farmer’s constitution points…

The proof was literally right there. In his resumption of proper posture, the sudden cessation in ragged gasps and hungry breaths, as well as an outright loss of any and all sense of tiredness in his voice.

“Er, I wished to address this in person because—”

“Get on with it.” L’Sips urged with an aggravated grumble.

“Why, yes. I. My family’s mahogany barn doors have been damaged due to the recent… happenings. Without these doors I am afraid our animals and produce may—”

“How many?” L’Sips interjected.

“T-two sets, m’lord.”

“Size?”

“About nay high and—” The farmer attempted to approximate a size with his hands, only to be halted mid way by yet another burst of mana radiation.

Without much warning at all, the baron pointed a single finger towards a partially exposed root poking at the side of the road.

From there, things shifted rapidly.

[Localized Fluctuation of Manafields Detected. Attempting Visualization Overlay… 5… 54… 72… Applying Dynamic Mana Radiation Visualization Overlay Ver. 0.0.0.1.2095]

A low pressure system seemed to have formed near the end of the baron’s finger, carving a linear path towards the root, wherein mana rapidly flowed, creating a chaotic whirlpool of energy.

However, instead of the crashing of waves or the explosion of pressures one would expect, these ‘weather vanes’ instead coalesced into something the EVI could not yet visualize.

Error codes abounded, while the results of the man’s actions resulted in what was undeniably something truly magnificent.

A whole tree had just sprouted out of nowhere.

And from there, things got even more bizarre.

With barely any time wasted, the tree was sliced at the stump, felled, and then carved into planks length-wise.

I witnessed what I could only describe as a telekinetic processing of a tree into its most basic of processed derivatives. 

Though that was about where it ended.

“Treat it and transport it yourself.” The baron spoke with a tired grumble, as the Satyr’s family emerged out of the corn-wheat fields by the dozens.

“Thank you, m’lord!” They all spoke in rapid succession, as the family was quick to haul plank after oversized plank out and back into the fields.

With yet another sigh, and a snap of his fingers, the baron seemed poised to leave with his entourage.

That was, until he turned back towards us.

“Will there be anything else, adjacent realmers?”

A part of me wanted to let the man be. He seemed… decent enough, at least by Nexian noble standards, and his commitment to his work ethic put me in mind of the perpetually tired Dr. Mekis back home. However… another part of me — the intel-gathering, lore-scrounging fiend that the IAS had so meticulously honed over the past year — craved the sweet sweet data that lay within the mind of a noble who actually seemed competent. 

Not just with magic, but with what was most fundamental to any civilization — administration, logistics, and agriculture.

Magic was a sure-fire subject I’d be diving deep into back at the Academy. History, too, thanks to Articord.

But it was the boring stuff, the nitty gritty basics, that acted as the underappreciated bedrock by which everything else was built upon.

“Actually, there are a few things I’d like to quickly touch upon.” I finally spoke up, as thoughts abounded amidst the excitement of intel gathering. 

This excitement, while palpable in the tone of my voice, did nothing but to irritate the busy noble.

“Let’s ride and talk.” He acquiesced, snapping his fingers which signalled the go-ahead for the pegasi ahead of him to begin galloping forward at a respectable pace. “You have until town before I must return to my duties.”

Dr. Wijaya, I’m about to bring you back enough data to jumpstart an entire generation’s worth of post-doctorate papers…

I brought up the annotated and truncated Agricultural Intelligence Survey form out for good measure, the scribbles and scrawls of my in-class notes still fresh on its digital pages.

Let’s do this.

Section 1: Environmental and Resource Management

“I admire your work ethic, Baron L’Sips. Though I can imagine things will probably calm down after harvest season, so at least there’s that to look forward to.” I tried my best to ease myself into small talk, sewing pertinent questions in between polite speech and vague platitudes.

The response I received, however, was one of both perplexity and incredulous resolve. “You must know that I am a man of brevity, Cadet Booker. So please, spare me the pleasantries and get to the point. Second, I… doubt you understand what exactly you are implying by that wishful platitude.” 

I cocked my head, prompting the man to respond before I could even offer up a response.

“You mentioned harvest seasons. My dear adjacent realmer, if you wish to proclaim that I will be relaxing any time soon in the interim between harvest seasons, then you must hail from a woefully underdeveloped realm.” The elf let out a dark chuckle, allowing that Nexian side of him to slip through, if only for a moment. “I apologize, it is rude of me to either assume or belittle ignorance and underdevelopment. For you see, the term season as it pertains to harvests is either archaic, or misused in your intent. As the more accurate term should be cycle.” 

With a single gesture towards the corn-wheat fields left and right to us, currently being harvested by commoners and… scarecrows … alike, the noble continued.

“We no longer peddle to the whims of nature, and have instead moved on to dictating harvests cycles of our own design. What you currently see around you is part of a fortnightly affair.”

My eyes widened, though the helmet hid all my shock from view. “Are you saying that this—” I pointed to the fields for added effect. “—is the result of a two-week harvest cycle?” 

“Correct.” The baron nodded proudly. The first time I actually saw any emotion other than exhaustion or mild annoyance being expressed. “Rarely do I have the time to reflect on the marvel of modern magic, so I do thank you for giving me the much needed perspective, Cadet Booker.” 

I nodded silently in response, my mind racing as the introduction of magic on a truly industrial scale started to really hit me, especially as my eyes ran across the four major sub-headings under the first section of the AIS study.

Climate and Seasons

Soil Types and Fertility

Water Resources and Irrigation Systems

Topography and Arable Land Area

…

All of it was tentatively irrelevant if faced with magic on the same scale as modern agricultural practices…

I breathed in, turning to the baron with a polite smile. “All of this is to say… your magical farming processes allow for year-round farming, completely exclusive of seasonal and environmental considerations?”

“Correct, Cadet Booker.”

“So even soil types and fertility are irrelevant?” I shot back quickly.

“For all intents and purposes, yes. There are outliers, however. Such as in the case of the titular Everblooming Blossom. For those require specific climates of mana to facilitate their growth.”

“Water—”

“If you are going to ask me about irrigation as a limiting factor to magical agriculture, then we best just return to discussions on primitive survivalism, no?” 

“Right.” I shrugged in response. 

Our discussions ramped up again following that awkward shutdown, as we moved into Section 2 of the AIS — Major Crops and Livestock.

This seemed to evoke some interest in the baron, as we discussed the weird corn-wheat crop around us and the radical implications it held.

It wasn’t natural.

Or at least, it didn’t exist, and wouldn’t have existed if it wasn’t for mages.

Moreover, our discussions on this particular topic unearthed something so incredibly groundbreaking I couldn’t help but to pause at the tail end of it.

The baron wasn’t just talking about the crossbreeding of closely related plants which would have been possible prior to the advent of modern genetics.

He was talking about the outright hybridization of two vastly different species of plants.

This was blatant genetic engineering without the readily available science and tech to facilitate it.

Which brought me back to a certain stray piece of dialogue spoken as an aside way back in my first week at the Academy…

But I couldn’t get into that yet, at least not right now.

Besides, if stuff like the Vorpal Chimera existed, then the whole genetic engineering thing was already sort of a dead horse.

I guess it just hit a bit harder when it wasn’t so… fantastical, and when it came closer to real-world analogues of the subject matter. 

Throughout all of this however, one particular point of interest dominated the fields. The same brow-raising curiosity that I spotted several sections back. 

And it just so happens that the next section of the AIS directly addressed this anomaly.

Production Systems and Technology

“So I’ve seen scarecrows around.”

“What about them?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but it looked like they were quite literally working the land alongside your flesh and blood farmers.”

“You’re not mistaken, no.” Came the Baron’s signature aloof response. 

“I’m assuming they’re golems of some sort?” I shot back, and in a rare instance of Nexiann conversation, felt like I actually needed to pry the words out of the man’s mouth.

“If you must know, they are golems of a sort.” The baron parroted my words with frustration in between him signing off on a seemingly unending pile of papers. 

“They’re doing the bulk of the work.” I continued. “At this point I have to ask — why don’t you just automate the entire farm and have these scarecrow golems do all of the work?”

The baron once again sighed deeply, before gesturing towards one of the fields with an exaggerated flourish. “Watch.”

I obliged, noticing how the team of ten or so scarecrows did do most of the work, using scythes and other bladed implements to whack section after section of farmland. However, only after watching a few cycles did something become clear to me.

Its exact, uncompromising repetitive motions, ignorant of the patches of crop left in its wake, resulting in the farmers behind it coming to clear up all that was overlooked. Everything here pointed to the fact that—

“Do you see it yet or do I need to spell it out?” Baron L’Sips questioned.

“No, no. I see it. They’re little more than ultra-simple automatons. There’s… no flexibility, no adaptability or dynamic motions. It’s all just simple motions that they’re repeating.” 

“Correct.” The baron nodded. “I’m sure you are used to the golems of your Academy. True golems, or even gargoyles. But in much of the Outlands, you’d be hard pressed to find such an being serving in any capacity other than martial roles. The talents of enchanters and artificers would be wasted on such trivial pursuits.” 

This… asymmetric magical industrialization was bizarre. But I couldn’t deny how it exceeded my expectations for the outlands.

I’d assumed I’d be seeing back breaking labor, peasants worked to the bone being whipped by cruel overseers.

Instead, all I saw was tiresome monotonous work, but that seemed to be the worst of it. Was it backbreaking? Sure, it was still manual labor without the aid of a combine harvester or a fully automated drone-swarm system. But was it as bad as I had assumed? Definitely not. 

The worst of the work was off loaded to what was for all intents and purposes analogues to basic machinery; which more or less was all I needed for Section 3 of the AIS. 

This prompted me to move over to Section 4: Labor and Land Tenure.

“So who owns the land?” I asked bluntly. 

This one question would define so much of the Nexus’ socio-economic dynamics.

Indeed, while I already had hints as to how land ownership worked here, it was all the better to get an answer straight from the source.

“Sips is a Township, Cadet Booker.” Came the Baron’s first response. “Ergo, the titles and deeds of this great town are carried over from the freehold of the noble who staked a claim to its territorial extent in the last wave of expansion.”

“That being… your ancestors, I’m assuming?”

“Correct. Though, to those ends, the fact it is now a Township complicates land rights somewhat. Because unlike a Castle, Keep, or true Freehold, the choice to pursue the path of a Township brings with it equal measures growth and headache. The farms you see around us? Whilst most are within my ownership, many are in varying states of tenancy and villein tenure. Which is to say, they own the rights to use the land, but not ownership of the land in and of itself.” 

“So they’re… serfs?”

“No, not at all. Their ancestors have made long-standing contracts with my estate. In exchange for taxes and a share of the fortnightly yield, they have full land rights to do with as they please. These rights may be passed down to family, kin, or even sold to outsiders if they wish. Indeed, this is how much of the outlying parts of the town are managed.” He pointed to the town which was now scarcely a stone’s throw away. “These were once farms, but owing to the growth of the commercial enterprises within the heart of town and its growing trade, the tenant families chose to instead pursue commercial and service enterprises instead of farming. They are still tenets, of course, but now they are tenets of a different class.” 

This… went off topic real fast.

But it was also highly eye opening.

Class mobility was something I wasn’t at all expecting.

In fact, I doubted I could really call it class mobility as—

“We’re here.” The Baron once more interrupted my train of thought.

“I bid you farewell, Cadet Booker. Good luck on your travels.” 

And with that, the baron was off, leaving just me, Thalmin, and the father son duo in his wake.

“Well…” I managed out with a huff. “I guess this is where we part ways, at least for now?” 

“Aye.” Came Solizia’s response. “Thank you, Cadet Booker, for all of your help.”

“Eh, don’t mention it. It was my pleasure.” 

I eventually got off the cart, the father son duo taking a few moments to unload, and then reattach their horses.

At which point, we bid each other another round of goodbyes, as the pair rode off deeper into town, disappearing into the hustle and bustle of this small settlement.

“Right.” I turned to Thalmin. “Let’s get you a new horse, aye?” 

=====

The Township of Sips. Local Time 1400 Hours.

Emma

Our first stop was the Transportium. 

Regardless of whatever else happened today, we needed to confirm we had passage to Telaseer.

Which we did, as we both were granted complimentary tickets courtesy of the whole Transgracian Academy student thing.

We could have just left at that point.

But given Thalmin’s horse situation, we were adamant on getting a horse here rather than over on the other side, as in Thalmin’s own words—

“Larger towns typically demand higher prices for even the most basic of horses.” He reasoned. 

We eventually arrived at what seemed to be a small barn. With the only indicator of it being anything but a storage for horses, being the dilapidated old sign out at the front.

Ester’s Horse Emporium

It was kind of sad too, as there was some real heart and soul put into the art behind that sign. I could just about make out the colorful yellows of the font, the smiling sun behind the titular barn etched into the wood, and of course the titular smiling elf gesturing happily towards the bright red barn behind the sign.

The real elf however, couldn’t have been further from what was illustrated.

“Ugh… welcome to Ester’s Horse Emporium, where every neigh is a good day… how can I…” She turned to the back, shaking her head before continuing. “How can I saddle you up today?” She forced those words out with a pained and awkward zeal that actually hurt me by pure force of awkwardness alone.

“Erm… I’m assuming you’re Ester?”

“Ugh…. no. I’m her sister.”

“Alright, well, nice to meet you Miss…”

“Esther.” She spoke in as deadpan of a voice as she could. “Anyways, you’re looking for horses?” 

“Yeah! We are. I was wondering if you had any recommendations—”

“They’re horses.” She interjected, the piece of hay or straw in her mouth moving from one end to the other. “You want brown? Black? Speckled? Or White? White’ll cost ya extra.”

I turned to Thalmin, who at this point was simply staring at both Esther and her roster of horses with a look of complete and utter disappointment.

“On second thought… maybe I will pay for the premium in Telaseer.” 

“Okay… Bye, I guess… rude…” Esther muttered out.

We quickly made our way out of that… whatever that was, as we moved swiftly towards the transportium.

“I would say that my small town had the same issue with our car dealership, but I’d be lying because—”

DING-DONG-DING-DONG!

I was interrupted by the unmistakable ringing of the town bell.

“KELPIE! KELPIE ATTACK! OVER BY THE FISH POND!” What appeared to be the town crier yelled out, as citizens and traders alike scrambled either towards the pond, or away from it.

Thalmin and I quickly turned to one another, before once again nodding in acknowledgement.

We both rode our way towards the pond, Thalmin once again relegated to the cramped back seat as it took us barely any time at all to reach the scene of the distress.

The place looked to be a converted pond-turned-aquaculture facility, judging by the sheer number of workers on small boats currently paddling their way back to shore.

However, it was clear there weren’t enough boats for everyone… or many had simply fallen overboard in the chaos, as several were out there in the water swimming haphazardly to shore.

It was at this point that I instinctively tried my hand at helping, as I jutted out my right arm towards the pond, taking aim—

“EVI, auto-adjust, auto-aim, send the grappler flying and let’s get as many on the line as we can.”

“Affirmative.”

The grappler went flying a half second following that, as it landed smack dab in the middle of the path of most of the swimmers.

“GRAB THE ROPE! I’LL PULL YOU IN!” I shouted, causing everyone to quickly grab onto the line, as I began reeling them in at a steady speed; matching and even exceeding that of some of the boats.

One… two… three… four… I counted them off, as guardsmen — including the two buffoons from earlier in the day — started handing out both blankets and dry rags in an attempt to get them dry.

My mind raced, focusing on getting the last man on the line in, before my heart quickly sank as I noticed another figure rounding around the corner of the dense swampy foliage.

It was a kid.

They’d been too far away for anyone to even notice at first.

“Shit.” I mumbled under my breath, as Thalmin reached out to extend some sort of vine towards the child.

“Grab the vine!” He shouted, prompting the kid to quickly reach out—

PLOOMPF!

—only to disappear below the dark and murky surface right before their hand could grab a hold of the vine.

Silence dominated the scene.

After which, I turned to my right to see the lupinor lunging forwards with a massive leap—

SPLASH!

—as he too disappeared beneath the surface.