Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (123/?)

Author’s Note: Apologies about the slight delay for this chapter’s release! It took a bit more time to get this out since I’ve been having to deal with the repercussions of the earthquake at the hospital. I hope you guys enjoy the chapter! :D I’ve also attached the PDF and EPUB versions of this chapter, since Patreon is still working on a solution for the recent formatting bug! However, I’ve been in contact with their help desk, and they’ve informed me that they’re now on the case!

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. The Grand Concourse of Learning. The Observer's Cove. Local time: 1625.

Emma

“While I understand that most amidst your peerage are learned nobles and wisened scholars in your own rights, it would be a matter of gross negligence on my behalf if I did not equitably provide the context necessary to understand such a time-honored tradition. Especially to those that have yet to have reached the same heights and standards as the favored amidst adjacent realms.” The elderly Belnor began, setting her sights not only on me, but Thalmin, and a few other students as well. 

“So without further ado, let us begin…” 

The whole room darkened with a flourishing of drapes which blocked not only the windows that flanked the right side of the hall, but likewise the center ‘stage’ that was Belnor’s surgical-theater setup.

A brief mana radiation spike later, and the whole central platform quite literally vanished without a trace, before being just as abruptly replaced by what I could only describe as a round room, divided up into separate different ‘segments’. 

Belnor, now disappearing up into the rafters or god knows where, started to narrate the events from a distance. All of which were illustrated within that room via some carefully choreographed magical animatronics.

Or more specifically, wooden mannequin creatures that came to life as soon as she spoke.

“Once upon a time, in a recently established crownlands that was just coming into its own, there existed a prince of adjacent origins. An emissary, diplomat—” The section of the carousel-like room in front of us suddenly glowed to life, depicting a wooden figure dressed in the fineries that I’d become accustomed to now. “—and would-be socialite.” The scene quickly shifted, the background changing from that of a stately manor to a grand ballroom, complete with accompanying wooden mannequins that danced all across the stage. “This prince, as was the case with many young and impressionable adults, became enamored by Nexian traditions. From food and wine, to balls and galas, to of course the modern conveniences offered by a realm brimming with infinite mana.” The scenes quickly shifted from that of the gala, to feasts, fancy wagons, and even an ‘aethraship’. All to the tune of a dozen or so mana radiation warnings, and the constant rotation of the carousel that shifted the scenes from one to the next. 

“However, there was one thing that distinguished this prince from the many other adjacent realmers that came before him. A desire, and a motivation, that far outweighed all else amongst his peerage.” The professor paused, shifting to a balcony scene, depicting not just the prince now, but another wooden figure in an ornate dress. “Love, or more specifically, love of the forbidden variety. For this prince had fallen head over heels not for another adjacent royal, but instead, a Nexian royal.”

A few gasps were heard amidst the crowd, as many had come to be invested in what I was amounting to a movie being shown in class.

“As you could expect, this did not come without its challenges.” Belnor continued, the carousel shifting to scenes of the expected outcry and outrage over this ‘forbidden love’. “But beyond the typical social challenges, came one which none could have expected.” The carousel eventually landed on a scene of the princess in bed, her hand held within the prince’s hand. “Illness, of the incurable variety. One which affected not just the body, which as we all learned last class is curable—” The professor paused, as if to awkwardly hammer home last class’ 3 deaths lesson. “—but instead, effected the tethers which bind one’s soul to one’s body.” 

The scenes depicted in the carousel became increasingly dreary, as all light seemed to be drained from the world, until finally everything came to a head with a heated conflict between three more mannequins. 

“The prince was met with an ultimatum, one which would determine the course of not just his life, but that of his lover. He was to travel to the ends of the Nexus, find a cure, and only then would her hand be betrothed to his in marriage. The man, fueled by the flames of young love, accepted — setting out on an expedition for the legendary Everblooming Blossom. A flower with properties capable of curing the princess’ ailments, but found only in the annals of myth and legend.”

The scene stopped for a moment, as the professor came in with an academic interlude. “And for good reason. For the flower that is the Everblooming Blossom, is endemic to those the so-called ‘young’ forests found exclusively in the outer reaches of the Nexus’ plane of expansion. The legends of its formerly widespread use in the crownlands, were in fact, true. Elements of folk wisdom from a  bygone era prior to the Crownlands’ establishment; during a time where the flower bloomed plentifully along the edges of its territorial extent. However, as time marched on and the Nexus expanded, so too did the flower’s natural habitat extend with it, leaving no trace of its existence in the crownlands and midlands.” 

The carousel began moving following that interlude, now showing a montage of the man’s journey through forests, marshlands, swamps, and even hot deserts and snow-capped mountains. “The prince’s journey took years, with some saying it took decades, without the aid of the transportium network, nor intraplanar portals. But by the end of it, the man arrived at what we now know as the Outlands. And it is there, atop of a tall hill, that he discovered what he sought.” The stage now showed the mannequin reaching for a pile of what looked to be violet and orange flowers. “The Everblooming Blossom.” 

“The prince eventually made his way back to his lover.” The scene shifted once more, showing the man arriving with a basket of flowers. “And following a lengthy recovery, the princess’ parents followed through with their promise. The pair were betrothed and married, and as the old saying goes… they all lived happily ever after.” 

The carousel eventually came to a close following a fanciful wedding ceremony put on fast forward. 

The class, and its original configuration, returned following a dozen or so mana radiation warnings.

“The Quest for the Everblooming Dawn, is by all measures, a tribute to the tenacity of the adjacent spirit. It demonstrates the unwavering will of those from adjacent standing, to the duty that comes with the love of a higher plane, and a higher calling.” The professor summed up succinctly, before shifting to a more personable tone of voice. “Your quest, should you wish to take on this mantle, is to retrieve a bushel’s worth of Everblooming Blossoms. Your destination, being that of the northernmost reaches of the Kingdom of Transgracia. For it is believed that the flowers which that prince discovered, were taken from within the borders of what would later become the Kingdom which we stand upon today.” 

“Now, as all of you should understand, the Academy’s classes have grown considerably since its founding. Thus, to comply with the Academy’s charters with the Kingdom of Transgracia, I will be limiting this quest to only ten peer groups. Of which, only two members of each group may participate. This is because the quest is slated to take more than a weekend, and will require the two individuals in question to miss classes. The two remaining members of each peer group are thus tasked with carrying on the quest-takers’ studies and responsibilities on their behalf.” 

Right, okay, all of this makes sense so far. I thought to myself, steadying my heart for when the logical whiplash would inevitably come. 

“There are a myriad of ways in which these ten may be chosen. However, given the unique constraints which govern this year’s circumstances, I will resort to that of the most expedient method.” The professor paused, her eyes leveling across the entire class, as she pulled out a book right out of thin air. “The ten peer groups will be chosen by points. With those chosen being that of the ten highest scoring groups up to this point.” 

My heart skipped a beat, as I turned to Ilunor, Thacea, and Thalmin in that order. 

We’d been purposefully neglecting the point game for the sake of staying out of drama and trouble. A fact that both Thacea and Ilunor had drilled into me following the first few days of classes.

However, while Thacea and Ilunor began checking through their notebooks in order to find out the current points tally, I only needed to turn to the EVI to bring up the current scoreboard.

The likes of which gave me some significant pause for thought.

…

I already knew the turnout before it began.

[POINT ACCUMULATION STATUS: 7TH]

But to say I wasn’t the least bit nervous would be a bold-faced lie.

The EVI could only be as accurate as the data it had to work with. There was always a chance that points accumulated outside of class, or quietly earned through coursework could shift the rankings without its knowledge. 

Which meant that our ‘guaranteed’ spot wasn't guaranteed at all… 

Only time would tell where we actually were in the true rankings.

To her credit, Belnor was speedy in her delivery of the results in question, wasting little time in laying everything out for the entire class.

Moreover, she even read out the names for each group, much to the giddiness of those who were more than assured a place on the blackboard. 

“Lord Qiv’Ratom!” She declared first, garnering a series of claps not only from his group, but the classroom at large.

“Lord Auris Ping!” She continued, this time garnering an even louder and more vibrant series of cheers, but with a distinct lack of numbers that Qiv commanded.

It seemed to be a battle of quantity over intensity of followers between the two.

And I was glad I wasn’t competing in whatever race it was they were competing in.

The next series of names didn’t really garner too much in the way of attention, save for some polite claps by Qiv, who seemed to be playing the role of the ‘noble sportsman’ in his acknowledgement of those that would directly become his competition.

We were down a solid five more names before I started feeling the heat.

Because we were, at this point, well and truly into uncharted territory. 

“Lord Gumigo!” Belnor continued, sparking barely any applause.

We were well into what should have been 7th place by now.

“Lady Cynthis!” 

The leopard-like humanoid garnered the cheers of her entire peer group, and a few other all-girl groups much to Thalmin’s visible dismay, as they formed what I could only describe was a homogenous band of harmonized cheers that reminded me of one of those unnerving fraternity house greetings.

It was at the height of those cheers however that Cynthis shot Thalmin an overly friendly wink. One that seemed genuine… but to a degree that I felt was just a little bit ‘too much’.

The prince, to his credit, remained perfectly still throughout that uncomfortable exchange.

Though the look in his eyes as he turned towards me was more than evidence enough of the discomfort welling within.

It was at that point however that I soon realized we were at the tenth and final name.

This was our last chance… 

Though strangely, unlike the rest, the professor seemed to take her time with this one. As she quickly wrote out two names on the chalkboard as opposed to the one for each row.

The reason why, would quickly become apparent.

“It’s not every year that we have a tie. Especially given how unlikely it is for two groups to have accumulated precisely the same number of points.” The professor began, placing her chin atop a balled fist. “Cadet Emma Booker…” My heart swelled in excitement— “... and Lord Etholin Esila.” —before sinking right back down into the abyssal depths.

I reflexively shot Etholin a worried look, a sentiment that was reflected in his features, but completely undermined by the sheer frustrations of the rest of his peer group.

The snake-like Ilphius especially, shooting me one of the nastiest glares I’d experienced to date… which was saying a lot.

“Now, there are a multitude of ways in which we may resolve this conflict.” Belnor continued politely, placing both of her hands together in a diplomatic gesture. “However, I would like to start with the simplest and most straightforward. Do either of you wish to declare a forfeiture to your right to quest?” 

“No, professor.” We both spoke quite literally at the same time without a second’s hesitation, Etholin’s higher-pitched tones clashing with the EVI’s interpretation of my natural voice.

“I see.” The elderly elf responded, shrugging in the process. “It was worth a try, even if there were only five instances of willing forfeitures over my entire tenure.”

With a sigh, she moved towards one of the many books in that recessed lab of hers, scrolling through the pages with the aid of some magical spell; helping to find the exact passage she needed for this eventuality.

“Right then. Given that neither party yields, and when taking into consideration the Academy’s respect for the rights of each student, both earned and inherited, a resolution can only be made by arbitration.” She paused, leveling her eyes on the both of us. “Now, the form which this arbitration takes, is dependent on the circumstances involved. However, given the particularities of this tie, tradition demands arbitration via challenge.” A frustrated smirk soon formed at the edges of the woman’s face. “A challenge which specifically entails a one-on-one duel, of either the physical or magical variety, to be overseen by the next class period.” 

Etholin’s features dropped, as despite being unable to see the color draining from his face due to his fur, his eyes gave practically everything away. 

Moreover, it was his body language that spoke leagues.

The man… simply slunk back into his seat, a hand nervously tapping on the table in front of him as he turned every which way before raising his other free and shaking hand.

“P-professor. If I may inquire, exactly why are we forced into arbitration via challenge? E-especially one of the dueling variety?”

“I’m afraid it’s a matter of circumstance, my dear.” The elf responded in as empathetic a tone as she could muster. “You see, there is a time limit imposed on my filing of the ten prospective quest-takers; this being by the end of the school week. This requires an expedient arbitration process, of which dueling is notably suited for. Beyond this, a professor is required to oversee a challenge and duel, and what better professor is suited for this than tomorrow’s incumbent physical education professor?” The professor’s warm grandmotherly persona soon shifted to something more bordering on the sly and lackadaisical grandmother, one that seemed adamant on pushing her students out of their comfort zone. 

“However, I am nothing if not fair.” She quickly added. “I would be remiss if I did not mention the various clauses involved in such a challenge, and your various rights to augment and remedy your circumstances.” She paused once more, her eyes darting back and forth between us two. “I can most certainly empathize with your reluctance on this matter, Lord Esila. In which case, as group leader, you may choose a champion to replace yourself in this challenge. The same goes for your group as well, Cadet Emma Booker.” She shot me a glance, and yet another curious smile.

“I will allow you five minutes to discuss amongst yourselves, and not a second more.”

=====

Emma

“This is as much your battle as mine’s, Emma.” Thalmin began right after the deployment of a privacy screen. “I am more than willing to volunteer for whatever challenge lies ahead, duel or not.” 

“I appreciate that Thalmin.” I acknowledged with a heavy nod, glancing at the blackened dome that covered Etholin’s group. “However, this whole mess is my responsibility. I wouldn’t want to cause you any more trouble than I already am.” 

That sentiment seemed to resonate with Thalmin, as he nodded silently and adjusted himself in his seat. 

“Still… I really don’t want to do this. Etholin is—”

“The man is someone you wish to forge alliances with, yes.” Ilunor chimed in. “However, you must be able to separate your personal reservations from the reservations of policy and action. These three axes can exist concurrently, as you find yourself at odds with the path forward.” 

“Two-faced Nexian nonsense…” Thalmin mumbled out under a derisive breath.

“Emma. It is at this point that you must make a decision. I understand you might be hoping for a compromise, a solution in which we circumvent all outcomes to forge our own. However, you must remember the game we are currently embroiled in. This quest is merely a front, one for a mission with grand stakes.”

“I can mend my relationship with Etholin afterwards.” I replied back, more or less reading Thacea’s mind as she nodded in response. “But the amethyst dragon thing is a do or die situation, yeah.” I sighed once more, shrugging in the process. “I’ll make it up to him in the future. That’s a guarantee.” I spoke under a hushed breath, staring at the black dome that had come to obscure Etholin’s group.

=====

Etholin

A privacy screen was promptly deployed.

Following which, the frustrations of all parties began their assault on my senses.

“I TOLD YOU THAT WENCH WAS TROUBLE, I KNEW FOR A FACT THAT FATE HAS BOUND US AS NEMESES. BUT OH NO, OUR GREAT AND WISE MERCHANT LORD, BELIEVES HER TO BE THE KEY TO HIS PERSONAL FORTUNES!” Ilphius hissed wildly, going so far as to deploy a visual privacy screen, obscuring our group from the rest of the class via a hastily formed shadowy dome.

“I would be inclined to defend you, Lord Esila.” Lord Teleos began. “However, given the circumstances, I would be more inclined to align my interests with Lady Ilphius.”

“FINALLY THE FENCE SITTER SEES REASON!” Ilphius shouted wildly, her hands gripping the table in front of us with a wild fury. 

“But not with your assessments over fate and whatever else nonsense you love to spout out, Lady Ilphius.” Telos quickly added. “While I believe the newrealmer is trouble, I would be betraying my principles if I did not point out the fallacies on which your animosity is built.”

Ilphius refused to respond to that blatant slight, instead choosing to face me with all her rage. 

“Allow me to face her.” The serpent glowered.

“I—” 

“No, NO MORE!” She slammed her fists against the table, cracking it. “It will be I who will be leading us out of this mess.” 

“Is this a challenge to my authority, Lady Ilphius?” I stated as plainly and calmly as I could given the situation.

I could feel the heat welling within her as she processed that retort, as I stood against a beast which in any other circumstance could otherwise swallow me whole. Thankfully, a moment of reprieve came into play when the serpent eventually turned back to Telos, as if to garner some support in this palace coup.

The lesser merfolk, seemingly unfazed by the whole back and forth, merely shrugged in response. “This isn’t a democracy. That’s your first folly in this attempt to garner support, Lady Ilphius.” 

“EXCUSE—”

“Your five minutes have elapsed!” Professor Belnor’s voice announced loudly, completely shattering our privacy fields in the process.

The earthrealmer, perhaps seeing the sheer distress I was in, took to her feet first, clearing her throat as if to buy me the precious few seconds necessary to finalize our arrangements.

“Professor Belnor?”

“Yes, Cadet Emma Booker?” 

“As per our discussions within my peer group, I have come to…”

I allowed the earthrealmer to ramble on, as I focused instead on bringing an end our scuffle. “I elect Prince Teleos Lophime as our champion.” I addressed Ilphius in no uncertain terms.

The lesser merfolk was a far calmer, more reserved choice, and his martial background meant that he stood far more of a chance against the earthrealmer than a raving irate lunatic. 

“How dare you—”

“Ahem! Lord Etholin Esila! Have you made your decision?” The professor, and in turn the entire class, shifted their attention once more to me.

“I have, Professor.” I announced firmly. “I will be electing Lord—”

“If I may have a word, Professor?” 

Another voice interjected, completely throwing my center of focus off-balance with both its abruptness and its presence. 

“Yes, Lord Auris Ping?” Professor Belnor acknowledged.

“Is it within your oversight to allow other parties to take on the role of surrogate champion?” He inquired, as my eyes began widening at the growing complications forming from this simple conflict.

“Hmm.” The professor responded, flipping through the pages of yet another notebook, landing her finger on a particular passage which she read out to the class. “... a surrogate champion may be considered if the prospective champion in question has no personal stake in either the loss or victory of their elected sponsor; in short, a lack of a pressing conflict of interest.” The elf pondered this for a moment, turning back to the blackboard for some form of confirmation.

“You will be fighting on the behalf of Lord Etholin Esila and his peer group’s right to quest, correct?”

“Yes, Professor.” Ping responded with deference.

“And you do not claim forfeiture of your own right to quest for the sake of some grander prize or wager, correct?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“And should you be victorious, do you intend on recruiting Lord Etholin Esila’s quest group for your own aims?”

“No, professor.”

“Then tell me, why do you wish to fight as surrogate champion? What is it you seek?”

A pause punctuated that question, as the man craned his head once towards the armored earthrealmer, and once again towards me. His features… softening, contorting into a terrifying facsimile of kindness that only resulted in this uncanny resemblance of a mimic attempting to feign some twisted sort of benign intent.

“I only seek to play my role as prospective class sovereign, Professor.” He began ‘softly’, as if addressing  our group in the process. “And as sovereign, it is my intent to defend the meek and defenseless—” That phrasing in particular caused Ilphius’ eyes to swell with anger, the serpent only halting at the behest of a harsh glare from Teleos. “—against the malicious and malevolent. It is, after all, the role of any sovereign to use their powers for the benefit of all. This is a duty which I wish to undertake, and a chivalrous spirit which I wholeheartedly embody.” 

The man shifted moving away from his desk and towards the aisle now. “There are monsters which lurk amidst our ranks, professor. Monsters of the worst sort — the unholy and the wretched. Lord Etholin Esila and his peer group may in fact be more than capable of defending themselves, but I would be ignorant, if not outright grossly negligent, if I did not step up to defend my fellow nobles when I have the chance.” The man once more paused for effect, his head craning towards Qiv this time around. “I am not a man who remains silent in the dereliction of his duties as protector of a realm, while those clearly in need struggle against the forces of darkness.”

The professor regarded Lord Ping’s outbursts with a measured expression, offering no response until his rants had ceased. 

“Is that all, Lord Ping?” 

“Yes, professor.” The man reflexively nodded.

“Very well.” The elf turned towards me, her tone worryingly calm. “As I see little reason to deny Lord Ping’s request, I will allow this matter to proceed. Lord Etholin Esila, the choice to accept or refuse now rests entirely within you. You have until the end of class to decide.”

My heart raced at the trail end of that ultimatum, my eyes eventually coming to rest upon Lord Ping’s as he shot me a sincerely insincere look of reassurance.

We’ll be indebted… I thought to myself dourly. To Lord Ping of all people… I flinched, shaking internally as I could only imagine the sorts of favors such a man would ask of a debtor.

But what other option did I have…

Turning to Teleos, the man remained as ambivalent and apathetic as always, simply shrugging at my questioning look.

However, it only took one stray look at the earthrealmer to make my decision.

We can mend our relationship after this whole debacle… I reasoned with myself, as I steadied my breath in anticipation for the fallout of this fiasco.

“I accept your offer, Lord Auris Ping.” I stated simply, in as firm and unflinching of a tone as I could muster in this situation.

To which the man’s expressions shifted to one of an ear-to-ear grin. “A wise decision, Lord Esila.” He began, before bowing slightly in expectant decorum. “It will be an honor to serve as your surrogate champion.” 

Those words found themselves serenaded by the arrival of the Academy band, the doors opening as if to laud the man’s brilliant political maneuvering, or more accurately — his opportunist plays that had completely shifted the power dynamics of our three peer groups.

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living  Room. Local Time: 1730 Hours.

Emma

“What the hell just happened?” I voiced under a frankly confused breath.

“Lord Auris Ping has just made some bold social maneuvers, that’s what.” Ilunor responded with an equally frustrated sigh, taking a moment to gorge himself in the process. “The man saw an opening, and like a carrion feeder, he came to pick up the scraps of what he saw as a potential boost to his social standing.” 

“It’s a play for the Class Sovereign, or at least, in his perceived ‘capacity’ as a Class Sovereign.” Thalmin growled out. “Feigning the enlightened noble, by framing us as the antagonists, and Lord Esila’s peer group as an ineffectual gaggle of damsels in distress to be saved by a chivalrous knight.” 

“And in doing so, he gains all the aforementioned, alongside a debt incurred provided he wins.”

“And if he doesn’t? What exactly does he have to gain if he loses to me again?” I asked bluntly.

“The disruption of relations between our two peer groups.” Ilunor stated nonchalantly. “He pushed Etholin into a corner today, like a dragon would to its prey. Whether or not we win or lose, he’s attempting to force further conflict between us. So even if he loses, a wedge will have been formed between us, as the man would be seen siding with a force that is diametrically opposed to our own.”

“And even if he loses, the disgrace will be on Etholin’s group rather than himself. As Etholin not only gets the disgrace of losing, but the disgrace of having to rely on something that he himself should have done, and not to mention the forfeiture of his right to quest.” Thalmin quickly added.

“Right, but that probably wasn’t going through his head now was it? I doubt the man considered the ‘what ifs’ about his potential loss, only that this was an excellent opportunity to play knight in shining armor, and gain yet another shot at potentially knocking me out.” I shot back. 

This finally prompted everyone to simply lean back in response, releasing sighs in one form or another. 

“Speaking of which, what exactly can we expect from said ‘gambit’ anyways?” I managed out, attempting to steer the conversation towards more productive waters. “As in, what’s the challenge?”

“All we know is that it will be a one-on-one duel, Emma.” Thalmin responded. “However, given the nature of tomorrow’s class, I doubt it’ll be a purely magical affair.” 

“It will be something in the vein of augmented physicality, whether or not this is a competition of sport, or a directly martial affair, is uncertain. Only time — and Professor Chiska’s personal inclinations — will tell.” Ilunor surmised.

“Right, well… I guess that’s that for now.” I grunted. “In any case, I want to actually do something productive today.” I spoke plainly, turning to the group with tired but excited eyes. “I’m going to Sorecar’s, to see if I can nickel and dime my way into getting some free metal for my motorcycle.” 

And to get my mind off of this…