Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (118/?)

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 late 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 — institutions included — 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 itself had shown itself to be not too 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.

If anything, I could visibly feel the oncoming cramps that would’ve come from moving one’s wrist, palm, and fingers at such breakneck speeds and insane angles.

I would’ve probably sprained something in my hand if it was physically inside the confines of the suit’s multi-modal manual manipulators (the MMMM, or Exo-Dex’s for short).

With the suit being a good few sizes bigger than I was on the inside, this meant my hands weren’t really where they were supposed to be.

Which was a feature rather than a bug, as any T-SEC and LREF astro-pathfinder could tell you.

This was because the hands — the first and most important ‘interface’ between a person and their environment — were also the most prone to injury and damage because of it.

While this meant maiming or serious injury in industrial applications… it was a whole other ballgame when you were dealing with work that actually required hermetically-sealed micro-environments. 

An accident or incident that involved an injury of the hands, automatically carried with it the risk of compromising the suit’s hermetic seal.

Which while already horrifying in the vacuum of space… meant assured death in the mana-rich environment of the Nexus.

All of this was to say that our years of designing both civilian exo-suits and military power armor, was now really paying off.

As the design philosophies and methods garnered from lessons written in blood within the vacuum of space, were now being applied to the E-ARRS project.

A fact that meant lots of training to become used to a set of ‘hands’ that weren’t my own, but also guaranteed a degree of safety when it came to unexpected hand-related accidents.

Or in this case, meant that the EVI could just go to town when it came to its fast-paced movements, which would have otherwise been impossible if my hands had been inside of the Exo-Dex’s.

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—

“Fifty points! To Cadet Emma Booker’s peer group!” 

—and the points game I desperately wanted to avoid. 

Though thankfully…

TOO-TOO-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, we enjoyed the fruits of my recent point accumulation, leaving as the seventh group and more or less booking it back to the dorms.

=====

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, with the intent to watch them fumble and falter at the altar of public humiliation… then so be it! Take them to said altar, and then wield their precious High Nexian in ways that they can only hope to mimic only a fraction of! Or better yet, one-up them at their own game! Flip the tables not just by meeting them at their impossible demands… but instead, humiliate them at their own twisted games!” 

The lupinor took a moment to compose himself, before continuing on with a few rapid fire words of affirmation. “You’ve just made the spirits of countless newrealmer candidates very happy today, Emma.” 

I could physically 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 sheer satisfaction.

This brotherly camaraderie 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.

So 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 finish this incessant treasure hunt at the insistence of the library.”

“Okay so, 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.

Whether that would’ve been for the better or worse, I couldn’t say. 

Whatever the case was, 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 the title and last name?” 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—”

“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 by the aforementioned Nexian noble, 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—”

“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 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 returning to my usual stance. “Or at least, that’s how it is in my small niche of human culture.” I continued with a reassuring smile, before going down the inevitable pipeline to the more… somber answer. 

“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—”

“Whether you had meddled or not, we were both at the whims of the greater game that day.” Rila interjected, finally garnering the familiarity 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—”

“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 ‘accomodating’ as I can be! That is, of course, if you’re alright with it.” 

“But, why—”

“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 just… unheard of right? Like, it can’t be all cut-throat all throughout every layer of society.”

“It isn’t, Emma.” Rila acknowledged. “But such altruism, or at least, altruism without strings attached, 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 earn-ed 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, garnering a look of genuine concern to form on Rila’s features. “Is it like a bad thing or—”

“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.” 

“Well… I guess I’ll have my answer soon enough.”

=====

North Rythian Forests. Outerlands. 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 all that new growth, let alone these older 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 sound, 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 fees, and avoid being mauled by this dragon that so clearly—”

“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 if you need confirmation.” 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. “If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s running away!”

“And running away is practically 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 as well.

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—”

“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 that same vexatiously pitched breath. 

“I know not, for I care not to delve into the workings of what is relegated to those stuffy scholars who—”

“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 hours now did it?” 

A series of laughs 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 comparison, 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, thankfully, was saved 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 slow 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 continually set on the prize that was frustratingly out of reach. 

As Mal’tory’s, now-Larial’s seat, sat 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.

This prompted me to march towards the nearest apprentice the moment dinner was over.

As I received frustrating news, that would’ve probably elicited some sharp words from Ilunor if he realized what was going on.

“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—”

“She is currently… busy. Last I heard, she had attributed her absence to some… unannounced personal quest!” 

“Right. Could you at least tell me where her office is so that I can maybe leave her a letter or—”

“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—”

“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. 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 so it isn’t all that bad. This isn’t like the dragon quest where I’m really on a bit of a time crunch—”

“This. Is. Completely. UNACCEPTABLE!” The Vunerian screamed.