Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (131/?)

The Trasgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Betreyan’s Hall. Local Time: 2200 Hours.

Vanavan

Few places existed that granted me the peace of mind, strength of confidence, and sense of security that should have come naturally to a man of my station and pedigree.

Fewer still did such places exist in public spaces, let alone rooms intended for the audience of many.

Betreyan’s Hall was perhaps the one and only such instance where the particularities of fate aligned precisely enough to fulfil these three sensibilities. 

For the Hall was the ultimate expression of my newfound life — an identity forged by my own two hands away from the circumstances of my heritage and upbringing. 

Yet all of that changed today.

For today, I found my sanctuary assaulted, assailed and deconstructed to its core by the arrival of an individual I’d first interacted through quill and ink from this very room. 

The armored woman arrived with the uninvited air of Mal’tory’s intrusiveness, the authoritative aura of the dean, and the finesse and fiery spirit of Chiska. 

Her presence inspired an instinctive fear that burned within the heart of all nobles, especially as one’s eyes landed on the coat of arms present on her armor.

I felt my defenses fall, wall by uneven wall, as she stepped down those steps and towards my lectern. 

“I concur, Professor Vanavan.” Captain Frital announced abruptly, her steely eyes having hooked my gaze into its reel. “Your… blue knight, is most certainly befitting of the first descriptor you assigned her.” The golden-haired elf paused, coming to a stop at the level of my desk, her figure towering over my seated form. “Exceptional, in more ways than one.” 

“I-indeed she is, Captain Frital.” I managed out politely, before gesturing to a chair I carefully levitated towards her. “And might I say, what an unexpected yet pleasant visit! Please, allow me.” 

I quickly set down the chair in front of the desk. However, instead of eliciting a polite smile or a semblance of reciprocal hospitality, I was rebuffed; the armored woman choosing instead to stare disinterestedly at the chair before returning her gaze squarely towards me.

“She is sharp, and impressively resilient. Indeed, I can imagine her resilience serves her quite well on and off the training grounds.” The Captain spoke casually, as the allusions sent shivers down my spine.

She couldn’t have.

We covered all loose ends at the warehouse. 

There were no witnesses, and she told no one.

Unless—

“She truly is the perfect candidate for the Quest for the Everblooming Blossom.” The goldthorn promptly continued, studying, inspecting, and peering at every minor emotive shift as if each was an article of confession. 

“Yes. I can imagine the skills she has demonstrated on the field of sport, will translate quite well into the rigors of prime adventuring. A rather audacious undertaking for a newrealmer, but she’s demonstrated her ambition several times over now, if I do say so myself.” I offered politely. 

“Indeed. And quite the ambitious spirit she is.” The Captain continued ominously. “Did you know she has quite the interest in flight?”

That question prompted me to narrow my eyes, my mind wracking itself for exactly where she was going with this.

“I can’t honestly say, Captain. I don’t remember mentioning such a specific interest in my reports to you.” 

“No, you have not.” The captain replied bluntly. “But I’ve had the unexpected pleasure of meeting her myself earlier this week.” 

My heart sank once more, as I tried everything I could not to show signs of anything other than polite interest. 

“Oh? I had thought your affairs would have taken you off the path of most students, Captain.” I countered.

“It just so happens that your Blue Knight was wandering where most students were not expected to be, Professor.” She sniped back, her eyes not once letting go of my gaze. “The Apprentice’s tower, to be precise.” She just as quickly added, once more testing me, prying me for a reaction. “She claimed to be there for some… extracurricular discussions of something or other, a flying club if I recall.”

“Ah.” Was my only response. That, and the thin smile I wore.

“It’s in rare instances such as those that I am reminded of exactly why you left the crownlands, Lord Vanavan. For life here is just far, far more accommodating to the pastoral and bucolic mind.” The captain continued on a new trajectory, one that I was nervous to follow. “I perhaps owe you an apology that my presence disrupts such an idyllic life. But alas, if things continue on their current trajectory, I cannot guarantee that my presence will mark either the end, or perhaps merely the beginning of an entirely unprecedented chapter in the Academy’s history.” 

The inner guardswoman paused, her form tensing, as if out of some mixed sense of pity and genuine concern. 

“We find ourselves in… interesting times, Professor Vanavan.” 

I shuddered, as that word carried with it far reaching implications the likes of which many others would’ve completely disregarded. 

For uneventfulness was perhaps the strongest measure of the Academy’s successes, save for those rare few times where eventful happenings were triggered at the behest of the Crown. 

…

My heart skipped a beat, as my eyes widened.

This break in my otherwise calm and composed body language prompted the Captain to raise a brow, as if she was finally reeling in her catch by the act of mere sight alone.

“Interesting, but not of my choice nor insistence, Captain.” I replied, ensuring I cemented my place and stance on this topic before it had a chance to become twisted and spun at the hands of the web weaver.

A small moment of restrained pause soon loomed over us, as the Captain regarded my words with a twinge of darkened interest. 

“No, of course not.” She responded soon after. “Though I wonder… if not you, then who?” 

I raised a brow at that question, and the unexpected trajectory the conversation had taken.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Captain. The decision came from above, as is decreed.” I offered, causing the woman’s piqued interest to soon devolve into one of disappointment. 

“Have your social muscles atrophied at the behest of dusty Academia, or are you simply playing a fool, Lord Vanavan?” 

The aggression was palpable, though not immediately obvious to any who might be listening.

To the untrained ear, there was naught but a slight gap in civility, evidenced by a slight clip of her tone of voice.

However, to those at the highest rungs, this was a warning — a test by any other name.

“No, Captain.” I decided to stand my ground for once. “You should know that the blue robed offices hold little in the realm of weight of both tangible influence and palpable authority. My place is that of the facilitator of the Academy’s stated aims, nothing more, and nothing less. I willingly left the court life behind for such a role, for the sake of Academia for Academia’s sake.” I leveled my eyes at the Captain, calling every ounce of strength in me not to flinch. “The decision and responsibility of this newrealm induction was never once within my purview.”

“Of course it isn’t.” The Captain responded tersely, letting nary a moment of silence to form between my rebuttal and her remarks. “But I find it difficult to imagine you never once overheard nor glanced towards whispers and echoes, especially when this induction marks the greatest shift against the status quo in decades of your career. The webway between the crown and the academy is a long, long scroll of correspondence after all… an open scroll, for a man of your position.”

“As I have stated, Captain — I play my role as facilitator, not decision maker or policy maker… and most certainly not a would-be court moth or snoop-suill. You would imagine such a thing would be completely antithetical for a man who left the politics of court life behind, no?” 

A narrowing of eyes and a questioning gaze was my first response, followed closely in tow by a tapping of the Captain’s fingers against her armor. 

“Though I wish to pose a question to you, Captain.” I began, as echoes from my past forced my tongue towards a path long untread — one of control and confrontation. “Are these questions truly pertinent to your investigations over the unfortunate demise of Lord Lartia, or are they questions born of your own unrelated, personal curiosities?” 

This ultimatum prompted the expected response, as Frital’s features stiffened, her hand gripping her sabre tightly in the process. “Are you questioning the integrity of my investigation, Professor Vanavan?”

“If integrity is measured by the pertinence of one’s questions to the topic at hand, then yes.” I responded bluntly, channeling a confidence I thought I’d lost years ago. “My rights afford me such suspicions, as points of clarification, no?” I added snappily with a cock of my head, once more returning to the sight of courts and councils long since passed.

The goldthorn remained unfazed, her expression unreadable, as we found ourselves locked in a battle of a thousand stares. 

However, neither of us yielded, not even after a full minute of stoic posturing.

As expected, it was Frital who broke the silence. Though the way she did so proved more perplexing than the very question she brought up.

“I see there is some fight in you yet, Lord Vanavan.” She offered with a twisted smile. “Consider my line of questioning… stricken from written record.” She continued, as she brought out a notepad, erasing much of the annotated text with a simple wave of her hand. 

However, I wasn’t satisfied.

“And off-record?” I urged strongly.

“You may hear more of it, willingly or not, in due time.” The crown chaser spoke ominously, before turning her heels sharply towards the exit. 

However, just before leaving the room, she once more turned towards me for one final exchange. 

“The investigation will soon enter its next phase. I do hope you have your witnesses and oath-bearers ready by then.”

“Of course, Captain. I appreciate the forewarning.” 

The Captain dipped her head, signalling the official ‘end’ to this back and forth. 

Which made her next few words all the more worrying. 

“Your time as a dusty Academician is soon to be tested, Vanavan. Take that as you will.”

=====

The Next Day

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Hall of Champions. Local Time: 1000 Hours  

Auris Ping

“Get. Up.” I spoke slowly, enunciating and allowing each and every word to convey the disparaging contempt I had for the noble that lay at my feet.

The antlered and hoofed Lorsi merely squirmed at that command, refusing to put in the effort that I otherwise had.

“You haven’t experienced a fraction of what that newrealmer has inflicted upon me.” I continued, moving to gently push the squirming Cervinrealmer over, revealing his disgustingly exhausted visage. “Is this all you have to offer me?” I practically spat out, shaking my head as I did so.

“Fine. No more fights, no more training—” I offered through a faux kindness, causing a hopeful twinkle to form in the man’s eyes. A twinkle that was snuffed out as quickly as it’d formed, as I placed a single foot on the man’s chest.  “—provided you can escape this simple predicament.” 

I could feel the smaller man’s chest heaving against the force of my foot, each inhale feeling like a weak attempt at inflating a soft squishy balloon.

It reinforced my disgust at the lithe would-be noble’s capabilities.

Moreover, it made me sincerely doubt his capacity to truly deliver on the grandiose promises he made on that very first day.

…

“And what do you have to offer this peer group, Lord Lorsi?”

“Aside from my deep pockets, vast connections, and stunning looks?” The Cervinrealmer boasted, twirling his body around so as to flutter the cape, scarf, and frock coat he’d worn to the Academy. “There’s also my inherent abilities and strengths, Lord Ping.”  

“I require true strength, not mere competency over magic. Magical acumen is a prerequisite, not a distinction nor a merit worth noting in my group.”

“True strength is what ye shall receive, Lord Ping.” The man smiled, carving out the most prideful sneer I’d seen on a fellow adjacent realmer thus far. “I have a counter for everything the most brutish of brutes can offer. I am the epitome of Cervinrealm exceptionalism. I am, after all, a son of House Lorsi. And we Lorsi do not shy away from challenges.”

…

“Hmmph.” I huffed out. “Is this truly all a Lorsi is capable of?” I chided, pushing down momentarily, forcing the man’s breath out to a series of strained wheezing coughs. “Is this really what I have to put up with?” 

I rescinded my assault, choosing instead to merely rest my foot atop of the man’s chest, as even this was a struggle for the man to counter.

“Answer me, Lord Lorsi! Is this truly all you bring to our group?!” I shouted, channeling the frustration, rage, and complete and utter vitriol that perhaps wasn’t entirely the fault of the Cervinrealmer’s.

That prompting seemed to elicit something within the noble, as he began squirming harder, kicking, punching, and flailing against the ground and my foot in equal measures.

Though frankly, these reinvigorated efforts came across less as gallant, and far more so pathetic. As Vicini ended up looking less like a hero making his valiant final stand, and more like a rabid animal attempting to flee certain death.

I allowed this to continue. First for a few seconds, then for a full minute, until all the man had left was his breath.

It was around that point that I finally removed my foot, releasing the man to his devices, as I now turned to the shattered earth around us — the results of an hour’s worth of practice and training.

“Physical… acumen… is not my strong suit, Lord Ping.” I finally heard the man speak, his ragged breaths coinciding with several shifts in the manastreams, as he used his magic to aid him in his now-disheveled state.

“Physical prowess, as disgusting as it is, must be tolerated if only for its practical ends.” I began, refusing to make eye contact as I merely marched forward, grabbing one of the hundreds of vines the cervinrealmer had uprooted during our grand spar.

“You are a talented druid, that I will admit.” I acknowledged in a rare display of grace, causing even Lorsi to blush in response at this one and only compliment bestowed upon him in the span of days. “But even you must realize that this mastery has its limits.” 

“I am certain we won’t be entering a situation wherein physical prowess is a point of practical concern, Lord Ping.” Vicini offered sincerely, taking a moment to inspect his antlers as he did so. 

“Have you not been following the newrealmer’s saga, Lorsi? Have you not seen what sorts of brutish indifference we must actively counter?” I scolded.

“If I may be frank, Lord Ping… I believe she has become your one-eyed abyssal.” 

I cocked my head curiously at the man’s response, prompting Lorsi to let out a dismissive sigh. 

“Larnsia Crick and the Hunt for the Great Leviathan? Heresy on the Thousand Seas? The Life and Tales of Tenelan Riroria? Lord Ping… you are currently hunting your own shadow, chasing your own ego, and risking the lives of both crew and livelihood in the process.” 

Vicini’s words spurred on the opposite of what he was hoping, as I felt an ember turn into infernal flames within a matter of seconds.

I let out a breath, taking a few steps towards the lithe gentleman and allowing my shadow to envelope him. “You spend too much time within written fantasies, holed up in your libraries, and too little time in the real world.” I began with a menacing breath. “Your shortsightedness is at times endearing, and sometimes even entertaining, but at this junction… I find it to be intolerable. It is honestly ironic how I must direct a druid to, as the saying goes — rekindle one’s contact with the dirt and grass of the world outside the palace walls.” 

“Lord Ping… I was merely suggesting that we shift our focus to more fruitful ventures as this newrealmer is simply not worth—”

“She is worth it!” I stomped my foot hard, causing the earth around us to shudder and shake. “The newrealmer has turned herself into a phenomenon. This is no longer about mastery over her or her realm, but the social implications that conquering such a phenomenon would incur.” I paused, before letting out a grin. “Or have you not heard of the Lililin Spirit, Lord Lorsi? I’d take it that a man of your bookishness would have come across such a concept?”

“Y-yes I have.” 

“Well then, now you know why I must do what I must. For the social fabric of society is like a spirit, one which we manifest collectively. This spirit can be overcome, overrun, or tainted by current affairs. And what better way to take hold of said spirit, than to wrestle control of its greatest novelty currently enrapturing it.” 

We stood at an impasse, my form towering over his, as the man ultimately relented with a sullen sigh.

“As you wish, Lord Ping.” 

=====

Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Porter and Porter’s Porter Services. Local Time: 1200 Hours. 

Cynthis Mena

“Your obsession over that flea-ridden usurper escapes me, Princess Mena.” Talia dismissed tiredly, lazing over a lounge chair as we awaited the arrival of our attendants.  

“I admit, I had assumed this to be about the thrill of the chase, an easy hunt turned difficult…  but your perseverance over such an undeserving suitor proves otherwise…” Yartis doubled down, turning over to Talia as the pampering of our soles, shoulders, and feet continued at the hands of adjacents and nexian commoners alike.

“You two need to relax!” Cerla countered with a lackadaisical yawn, moving to sample one of the innumerable small treats laid out beside her. “Let Princess Mena have her interests, her haunts, her obsessions and personal desires. Academics are as dull as they come… why not spice up life with the excitement of court politics, hmm?”

Eventually, all three eyes turned to me, prompting me to sigh deeply, before turning to all commoners present, demanding of them that which was typical for the rabble — the removal of hearing, by means of cotton wads, earmuffs, and whatever they had available.

“As always ladies… each of you wields a fragment of the truth, but are oh-so woefully incapable of weaving it into a coherent tapestry.” I scolded softly, raising my fingers to my now-earmuffed attendant. “Prince Thalmin Havenbrock has indeed become a point of great interest, for many of the reasons you each have pointed out.” I smiled teasingly, shuddering at each and every careful scrape of the nail file. “However, there exists another… fascination I have over the prince.”

All eyes were now entirely locked on me, their necks craning as far as possible from their relaxed positions. “The lupinor… is a living contradiction. On the one hand, he represents all that is wrong with an adjacency — the brutish, savage, war-torn barbarity of an unstable and ill-gotten regime. And yet… on the other… he presents himself as a stoic knight, chivalrous, silent, and stunning in his simple regalia. Regalia that seems more suited for a retainer than a prince.” I sighed, placing the back of my hand against my forehead. “He’s such a simple man, so simple that I genuinely believe he represents a purer version of chivalry than is found here in the Nexus. Indeed, his vow of silence remains strong enough that he refuses to acknowledge my presence, despite all of my social ingresses.” 

“Well… when you put it that way, the prince does seem markedly more remarkable.” Talia admitted reluctantly. “But still, why the rush? Why the enthusiasm? There has to be something practical here, Cynthis.” Her eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“Oh Talia, ever the pragmatist.” I chided with a flick of my hand. “But alas, you once more see right through me. There is, indeed, a practical aspect to this chase.” I paused for dramatic effect, as a fangy grin formed along my lips. “I believe, for all of the prince’s faults, that I will be capable of fixing him; and by extension, Havenbrock too.”

The gazes of all three ladies darted back and forth at this point, attempting to form words but finding all attempts at this futile. 

“He may be the youngest. Indeed, he may be the furthest within the immediate family from the throne. But I believe that through him, I will be able to finally fix the Havenbrock dilemma, by providing an anchor with a favored realm.” 

Silence dawned on all three, until suddenly, a series of giggly laughter spawned from the stunning speech. 

“Leave it to a Pardusrealmer to have political marriages constantly on the mind.” Talia broke away from the communal laughter first.

“Oh no, this is more than a political marriage. It’s a paradigm shifting arrangement if done right.” Yartis offered up soon after.

“My majesties and ladies… you vastly underestimate just how ambitious yet expected this is.” Cerla began. “It is one thing for a Pardusrealmer to be considering a political marriage, another to be this ambitious, but completely unprecedented to be willing to become what I assume she’s implying.” Cerla’s eyes landed on my own, her gaze filled with excitement. “You wish to be the civilized anchor to Havenbrock’s savagery — the de facto Nexian representative, without sacrificing Elven dignity.” 

I nodded deeply, garnering smiles, and then all out giggles.

“Yes. And I have years to make this work, ladies…”

=====

Nexus. The Crown Herald Town of Elaseer. Silksong’s Silken Shop. Local Time: 1400 Hours. 

Auris Ping

Hours. Hours upon hours of unsolicited, nigh-omnipresent chatter. 

Whilst the words of commoners rarely registered as anything but background noise, today’s drivel was anything but irrelevant to my noble aspirations.

As it would seem as if every other conversation had somehow found its way into the unwarranted obsession over a topic that drove me to the brink of a breakdown.

From the front of the guildhall where we were poised to strike next—

“Have you heard about the blue knight?”

“Oh yes! Yes! Her charity knows no bounds!”

“What do you mean?”

“Her acts of charity in the adventurer’s guild hall, of course! Haven’t you heard? She fed those poor aspirants, the trainee apprentices I believe she called them!” 

“Aww, how sweet!”

—to the streets and squares that dotted the road towards our first destination—

“And you know what else?”

“What?”

“I heard that she even left the ambassadorial district.”

“A noble? A newrealm noble at that?”

“Yeah! It’s almost like she’s got the heart of a commoner!”

“Shh! Don’t let them hear you say that—”

—the conversations were ceaseless. But at the very least, we would hear none of it here in this fine establishment.

DING DING DING! The front doorbell rang, eliciting the arrival of a well-to-do Nexian that bowed deeply in my direction.

“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!”

“A pleasure, my dear fellow, a pleasure!” Vicini responded first, prompting me to promptly push him aside as I made my demands known. 

“I wish for a noble’s traveling cloak, of the Nexian variety. Along with perhaps a similar cloak for use with armor.” I announced bluntly.

“Ah! You’ve come to the right place my lord! For my son is both an apprentice and a prodigy at such armored adornments! Why, he just very recently completed several commissions for a certain blue knight!”  

I felt my eye twitch, and a twinge of internal pain to form behind it.

“A. Blue. Knight? You say?”

“Yes! I believe she was—”

“Lord Lorsi, we’re leaving.” 

“W-what? Lord Ping, we just—”

“There are more establishments along this road. We shall patronize other more respectable tailoring businesses.”

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Emma and Thacea’s Room. Local Time: 1545 Hours.

Emma

Most of the day had been committed to a mad dash of last-minute checks, fixes, and corrections on both the chassis and wheels of the motorcycle. 

Indeed, both Ilunor and Thalmin had given up about halfway through the day, seeing as the former found mechanical maintenance to be quote: “A mind-numbing exercise in overcomplicated puzzle-solving.” 

However, by mid afternoon, most of the issues had been ironed out, as both the printer and assembler continued on their scheduled progress, leaving only the external frame and body at the hands of Sorecar.

I’d visited the man soon after… only to be shooed away. Though not in the way that I’d imagined.

“Trust me, Cadet Emma Booker, I would rather present you with a complete surprise, than see that surprise spoiled by virtue of a half-finished tour!” 

I tentatively accepted the armorer’s offer, but only because of the guarantee he made.

“Yes, yes. I will be able to make a boring iteration if you so wish. It will take nary an hour to do so, so time is most certainly not a concern should last minute revisions be necessary!” 

Finally, I found myself arriving back in the dorms, finding Thalmin missing for our supply run into town. Ilunor assured me he’d be back in time for said supply run, which prompted me to finally plop down on the bedroom couch to just rest. 

So, with nothing else to do… other than homework, of course… I turned to Thacea.

Conversation came naturally to the both of us, as we began running through the motions yet again, momentum gradually arriving to a brief rundown of yesterday’s antics.

“And then I was like: ‘OH GOD, I’M SO SORRY!’ Because, y’know, I thought I’d literally shattered and broke his pet in half. The guilt I felt literally sent my soul into the abyss where the most evil of evil-doers are destined for.” 

“But of course, I assume Thalmin corrected you on that fallacy.” Thacea offered patiently.

“Oh yeah, he did. He was an excellent sport about it too. But still, no animal lover or pet owner ever wants to go through that horror, even if it was short lived and turned out to be a non-issue.” I responded, with some emotive gesturing, eliciting the same calm and receptive nods that came naturally to the princess.

“Soul-stitching is a rather unique art, even amongst adjacent realms where the knowledge and practice of soul-based magic is plentiful. So I can only imagine how truly alien it was for you, given your realm’s lack of insight into the nature of souls.” Thacea smiled softly, gesturing towards the WAID on my back. “However, such blindspots are clearly capable of being bridged, or at least, mended with sufficient enough analogues.” 

“Yeah, the WAID interface is still compiling, but hopefully I’ll have something workable soon.” I responded with a smile of my own. “I really gotta thank you for yesterday’s pointers, princess. Artistic interpretations are one thing, but actual practical considerations are much appreciated.”

“It was my pleasure, Emma.” Thacea nodded. “Having seen the… bluntness that seems to come naturally to your people’s innovative spirit, I imagined the same could be applied to manasight — as sacrilegious as that may be to most.”

“Again, that’s incredibly considerate of you, Thacea.” I dipped my head down out of respect. “Though, there was one thing I was meaning to ask about yesterday’s demonstrations if that’s alright?”

“Go on?” 

“Ilunor and Thalmin’s presentations included something yours didn’t. This… weird sort of aura around their physical bodies. When I first saw Ilunor’s draconic outline, I’d assumed it was quite literally his ego painting the scene. But then Thalmin came in with an aura of his own, which hinted at the fact it might not be just one of Ilunor’s weird fantasies. However, this aura was lacking from your presentation of manasight.” I rattled on, garnering increasingly wary looks from the princess. 

“And now you’re curious as to my own aura.” Thacea uttered out somberly, her expressions growing darker and darker by the moment.

“Y-yeah. But we don’t have to get into that if you don’t want to, Thacea. It’s just—”

“No, no.” The princess interjected, turning her gaze away if only for a moment. “If your… sight is to be improved, then we must discuss and demonstrate all aspects of the world. Whether that is the beautiful, the pragmatic…” Thacea paused, taking in a deep breath as she closed her eyes tightly, uttering the next few words with a pained self-contempt. “... and the ugly.”