Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (115/?)

Ilunor

I wanted to scream.

I wanted to yell.

I wanted to give that would-be human ‘leader’ a lesson in logical fallacies.

You do not simply equate the scaling of a mountain, or the crossing of a body of water, with the traversal of dead space.

For the former two exist, but the latter…

…

Doesn’t.

… 

I paused.

Reeling myself back.

Taking a moment to ponder what it was that I was even thinking.

The void, this dead space… its existence was tentative, yes.

But so were manaless newrealmers… and everything else they purveyed.

Moreover, had I not already accepted earthrealm as a dead realm? 

It stands to reason then that this dead space… must exist.

That means my argument, my reflexive decision to berate the man had no bearing on reality since—

No.

There must be other points in that speech that could undermine… all of this.

I took a deep breath, turning every which way within the great nothingness that was this dead realm.

This… realm within and without another realm.

It was disorientating.

Especially as that infernal language that was earthrealmer gibberish blared throughout the sight-seer.

Their words… barbaric, figuratively, and literally as well. As each and every word sounded as if they were garbling harsh syllables without consideration for a more refined tonal sensibility.

Barbarians would be a fitting way to describe them.

…

But barbarians they were not.

For their commitment to overcoming their limitations, to championing sapience against the repulsive and unfeeling forces of the natural order, their tenacity and their stubbornness, all of it… was the work of the civilized mind.

All of it was undeniably… the rhetoric of a civilized peoples.

But they are manaless! A part of me screamed, trying to reel back this… new side of me that would dare to lend an ounce of credence to the idea of civility being applied to a newrealmer, let alone a manaless one at that.

But despite its screams—

—and in spite of its credibility, owing to its voice representing the sum total of civilization itself—

—I couldn’t help but to resist it.

And not for any love or compassion for Emma or her kind.

No.

It was because there was no longer a clear line between reality and unreality.

For the very artifice we now stood within, was a living contradiction to a reality I could no longer passively refute.

A reality whose long drawn out history was sensible.

Even if that sensibility was beholden to an entirely alien set of logic and norms.

Norms which rewarded the insane, and punished the reasonable.

Logic that worked… but only within a reality of chaos and impossibility. 

A reality so novel, that it was better ignored as the exception to the true norms — status eternia.

I could not lose sight of that.

Prince Thalmin and Princess Thacea could not lose sight of that either.

For they both existed within living realms of mana and magic.

Not realms of the dead and unliving.

I had to remind them of that.

I had to take it upon myself to embody the role of the parent, the senior, and the wizened elder.

I had to carry with me that which both the Prince and Princess so dearly lack — the strength of character from a noble of an unending lineage. 

And I would be there when the time comes, as the sole voice of reason, amidst a sea of star-struck fools — to remind them that not all could be reality.

As Emma, as convincing as she is, could still be lying.

Perhaps not now.

Perhaps not with the alternate truths she currently purveyed.

But most definitely with whatever future lies she could potentially serve as truths.

Because as with any trap, honeyed is the trail that leads to damnation.

But thankfully, I had tasted the ambrosia of truth.

And it was I, and I alone, that could resist the nectar of Emma’s sweet nothings.

This commitment to the truth was not to be delayed however.

As I had yet more questions to pose the ever-so-prepared purveyor of alternate truths.

“Emma.” I began, turning towards the earthrealmer with an expectant step, watching on as these ‘astronauts’ started planting their kingdom’s flag on this new realm — hinting to the fractionalization of their troubled past.

“Yes, Ilunor?”

“That… speech, it was from one of your leaders, correct?”

“Yeah, an ancient leader from one of our old states. The very state whose flag you see being planted here now. The predecessor to one of the super-states that later became an influential bloc within the halls of the Greater United Nations’ General and People’s Assemb—”

“Yes, yes, yes. That is all well and good. However, I have a question pertaining to his… lofty ambitions.”

“Alright? Hit me.”

“He claims to wish to reach for your moon, and, ahem — to do other things. If that much is true, then tell me, why would he have not aimed for something larger?”

“I’m… sorry, I’m not really following—”

“You stated that every point on your non-existent tapestry is a ‘realm unto its own’, correct?”

“Yeah, more or less. I was being a bit reductive there, admittedly, but—”

“Then why the moon?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play me for a fool, Emma Booker. If the moon was such a coveted destination, then surely there’s a far larger, far more enticing destination which would’ve obviously taken precedent. One which dominates the day, rather than merely peeking through occasionally in the night.”

I paused, allowing the earthrealmer to process what it was I was broaching. As it was clear to me, that somewhere behind that faceplate, was a face currently reaching the same realization as I.

“Tell me, Cadet Emma Booker, why didn't you aim for the sun itself?” 

Emma

I wanted to scream.

As much as I wanted to laugh.

But that was the immature side of me talking. 

It was clear that I’d skirted by Ilunor’s fundamental systemic incongruency, but that we were close to a looming impasse.

Though at the same time, I realized that this was the moment I could finally address the elephant in the room that started this whole mess.

The question of stars.

This wasn’t a moment to laugh and berate, no.

This was the moment to enlighten and inform, and also prime-time to finally address the elephant in the room that was the Nexus’ own sun and moon.

This was what the whole mission was all about.

And I was loving every bit of it.

Thalmin

Ilunor had a point.

If the moon was a realm unto its own, a desolate waste of nothing as it may be, then what of the sun? 

A blazing realm of fire and death perhaps, but humanity seemed adept at surviving any environment with the aid of their suits of armor. 

Surely the sun would’ve been a far greater goal to achieve.

“Perhaps you could show us a sight-seer of your people arriving on the surface of your sun, Emma?” I posited.

Ilunor

“I’m afraid that there are certain things that are impossible even by our metrics, guys.” The earthrealmer spoke through a rare admission of inadequacy. 

“And yet you claim that all points in the sky are realms unto themselves. Why is it then, that your people weren’t able to reach your sun?”

“Oh, we reached it alright, and the sun definitely is a realm unto its own—”

“Then why do you claim to be unable to—”

“Because the sun, in addition to being a deadly source of light, is likewise a realm composed entirely of perpetual fire.” 

That response… simply did not register.

My eyes, expectedly, turned towards the looming source of light that hovered above even this dead and desolate world.

“A realm of perpetual fire.” I mimed back, half in disbelief, and half in a half-hearted attempt at a question.

“Yeah… actually, it’ll be easier to show you. Let’s quickly pop on over to the sun, shall we~?” 

No sooner were those words spoken were we suddenly flung across the sheer emptiness of the void. 

I felt myself listless amidst nothingness.

I felt… closer to death, or what felt like damnation, than ever before.

Is this what earthrealmers contended with on a daily basis?

Is this what goes through their minds… Every. Single. Day?

Is this what they actively had to consider and rationalize, as they float through this void, atop their tiny world? 

Or worse… as they traverse the void, within ships the size of a dinghy?

These questions, these thoughts and feelings, all of it, came to a head as we passed by several more realms, before finally, skirting past the upper reaches of this broken reality’s sun.

…

Or what I assumed was the sun.

Because the moment we got close enough, our entire field of view bathed in a blinding light that elicited sharp grunts from everyone present.

“Yeah, it’s a little bit bright, so let me tone it down a bit. Consider this a more hospitable rendering of what it’s actually like up-close and personal next to this angry ball of perpetual fire.” 

Our view shifted once again, now skirting by what I could only imagine was an insurmountable distance above its surface.

A surface… composed almost entirely of boiling, frothing, magma. 

Magma… that had somehow coalesced into individual ‘cells’, honey-comb like in structure, bubbling and frothing, angry, with the fury only found within the heart of a dragon.

Following which, did we find our illusion of safety broken. 

As suddenly, and without warning, were we violently struck with arch-like projections from its superheated surface, as dazzling, almost mesmerizing plumes of pure heat danced amidst the darkness of the void. 

The prince and princess reeled back in shock at this display.

Whilst in contrast, I found myself not fearful, nor even shocked by these displays of fiery fury. 

Instead… I was mesmerized and entranced.

Mesmerized — by the eerie beauty of this monstrosity’s arch-like arms, as it reached out in vain towards a darkness that it could not harm.

Entranced — by the surface of the constantly-moving, white-hot, almost granular surface of this… realm. My eyes unabashedly enraptured by the rippling patterns that pushed, tugged, and pulled at the complex lattices and cells that made up its infernium surface. 

I watched… in awe at the fury of this fiery realm’s surface, at the patterns that continued ad infinitum, and at the raw energy of it all. 

A sight, pure in terrifying power, almost akin to the indescribable and endless potential of the primavale itself—

…

No.

…

No… no…

Nononono. No. No. NO!

It couldn’t. 

It can’t.

“Earthrealmer.” I declared, interrupting whatever small lecture Emma had just initiated. 

“Yes, Ilunor?”

“Take us to the surface.”

“I mean, sure, but don’t you want to hear—”

“Take us there, NOW!” I yelled, prompting the earthrealmer to take our sight-seer journey closer still towards this enigmatic realm.

A realm that I might’ve simply jumped to conclusions in bridging comparisons to.

A realm… that bore an eerily resemblance to…

“... the primavale.” Thacea muttered under a hushed breath.

“No. Do not say that, Princess! It can’t be, it’s impossible!” 

“Wait, what? Ilunor, I assure you this isn’t—”

I shushed the earthrealmer as we descended further and further towards the realm’s surface.

Passing through pillars of raw fire each the size of mountains, and arriving upon an undulating sea of what I now recognized as raw plasma. It was only after ‘landing’ atop of the ephemeral ‘surface’ was I slowly able to piece together this… realm.

My eyes now fixated on an uneasy, almost transient horizon, or more specifically — the boundary where this infinite realm of energy ended, and where the void of pure dark nothingness began. 

“Ilunor? Erm, Earth to Ilunor, you still there, friend?” Emma’s incessant noises pierced through my rapidly discombobulating mind.

A mind… that was about ready to both reject and accept this dead realm as both closer yet further from truth than I’d ever care to admit.

“I… I must both revise and reemphasize my assertions, earthrealmer.” I spoke through a hoarse breath, as everyone present remained silent, granting me the room to breathe amidst an environment made for those of draconic heritage. “Yours is a reality, a realm, that isn’t so much dead… as much as it is dying.” 

Thalmin

That proclamation… was somehow ludicrous yet grounded.

A fact that Emma would corroborate not by words, but by a distinct lack of emotive vitriol. 

“What?” She chimed back plainly.

“Do not take me for a fool, earthrealmer. If your people are as remotely as capable as you have been alluding to, then I know you must already be aware of this existential crisis — that your realm exists on borrowed time. That your kind, in some unfortunate tragedy, had arisen within a realm long since past its prime.” The Vunerian paused, shaking his head to and fro, his eyes wide with the look of a mad man. “It all makes sense now. It all makes so much sense.”

This was rapidly followed up by yet more bold claims, as he pointed expectedly to the void. “Your ‘sun’, is just one of many I presume?” 

“Yes, Ilunor.” 

“Then that settles it.” The Vunerian interjected, cradling his maw within his hands. “Cadet Emma Booker… your realm, your reality, is one which exists in a post-primavalic era. Your sun? But a vestigial remnant, from an era where the primavale spanned infinity and eternity. The other suns in your void? Fellow remnants. Puddles of water where a great endless ocean once stood.”

“And the various realms of rock and gas floating amidst the void, the result of lingering primavalic energies that were left over, coalescing into cohesive realms, I presume?” Emma offered, eliciting a sharp turn of Ilunor’s head back towards her.

“So you do know. So you must understand. That your reality is—”

“I will preface this by saying that I’m genuinely quite pleased by how you’re piecing things together, Ilunor.” The earthrealmer began, in a strange, almost alien show of respect towards a Vunerian who had prior to this point — had exclusively played the contrarian. “You’re right, in assuming that our reality has an expiry date.”

That acknowledgement prompted the Vunerian to beam so bright, that it might as well have overpowered the hellscape we stood upon.

“But putting aside the fact that all… or perhaps most realms must have some sort of an expiry date, ours isn’t due in any conceivable stretch of time. We’re looking at like… trillions of years at current estimates.” The earthrealmer shrugged, throwing around numbers in an eerily elven manner. “If anything, our sun’s due for its death far, far earlier than that.” 

“So your puddles of primavales are themselves… drying up?” Ilunor asked sheepishly, almost as if afraid of that very notion.

“Well, it’s more like the gaseous elemental fuel it's using to fuel its endless combustion will eventually run out… but that’s beside the point. I think we need to address some very, very fundamental differences between our realities. Because while you’re superficially right on the money with how things are here, we’re speaking in vague metaphors and grand sweeping similes here. You see… I think that in some weird way, the Nexus, and perhaps other realms like it, might just be parallels to my own. Because if you boil it all down, and head right to the beginning of time itself… things seem eerily similar.”

“What are you trying to say, earthrealmer?” Ilunor shot back.

“Professor Articord’s class. Her whole beginning of time lecture. It mirrors our own. We both began with an immense release of powerful energy from a very tiny point.” Emma began, as she brought up a memory shard recording of that very class, of the ‘conical model’ of creation as I liked to call it. “Following which, matter as we knew it started to form, along with the space it occupied. However, where Professor Articord starts going into vague semantics, is where things start to really differ in our realms. Because instead of mana and magical energies coalescing to form landmasses and the tapestry and what-have-you, our reality instead continued to expand. Stretching so far and in every possible direction to the point where you have these… void-filled expanses of nothing in between occasional patches of matter that have since coalesced to form various types of… realms. From realms of near-infinite fire, to realms of mere rock and dust, to realms such as Earth where life arose. Through the force of leypull, mass coalesces to form celestial bodies. And through what we call ‘dark energy’, is our reality, our universe, continuing to expand ‘outwards’.”

Everyone grew silent.

All, save for Ilunor.

As he began smiling, grinning, before cackling with a certain near-maniacal laughter.

“Earthrealmer, no… please… don’t… don’t condemn yourself to this.” He pleaded.

“What—”

“You’re… you’re describing an infinitely expanding reality, yet one that expands not with verdant fields or even solid rock, but emptiness.” He began, before shaking his head rapidly. “You’re describing an antithesis to the Nexus, earthrealmer!” 

“It’s only an antithesis if we try to derive some greater or higher meaning from it, Ilunor. All I’m saying is that there are parallels to our realities, not that there’s any connotation behind said parallels.” Emma countered firmly. “If anything, it’s in situations like these where we have to remain calm and resolute, to look only at what are the facts, and what are the truths that these facts bear out.”

A silence, set amidst the alien and unsettling sounds of this realm of perpetual flames, now descended on the Vunerian, the princess, and even myself.

“The truth, hm?” Ilunor finally uttered, breaking through the warbly silence. “If it is any consolation to those present, the truth I have derived is such — earthrealm… and its reality is doomed to suffer the antithesis of the Nexus’ eternal expansion. Whereas the farlands provides us with an infinite expanse of untouched lands by which to settle and exploit, earthrealm’s expansion will result only in emptier space. For there is no new creation, only, the creation of nothing. So nothing is their expansion, and nothing shall be their end.” 

Emma… once more remained surprisingly calm at this, refusing to comment save for a few poignant sentences.

“That’s one hypothesis we have of our ultimate end trillions of years from now, yes. But until then, we still have a lot of time to play around with.” She spoke optimistically.

This… clearly sparked something within the Vunerian, as he stared back with incredulous frustration. “How can you be so calm at such a fate, earthrealmer? Even if it is generations away, even if you cannot conceive of such a time, you still inhabit what is undoubtedly a dead and dying realm. You live within a corpse. How can you find calm, let alone joy in that?!” 

The sight-seer reacted gently at that question, pulling outwards from the ‘surface’ of this flame-ridden world, so far outwards that it once more became an orb we could fully visualize. 

“Because within that void, is a sea of infinite possibilities Ilunor. Because every speck of light out there, every star that shines amidst the dark, is another star just like our own. And orbiting those balls of fire? Are worlds yet unexplored. Worlds of infinite possibilities. From worlds of barren rock, to worlds that could potentially harbor life. Just in our solar system alone have we found worlds of indescribable beauty.” The earthrealmer paused, pulling us outwards further and further from the sun, towards what appeared to be another spherical globe, except this one… was dominated by a large, imposing, almost fantastical ring. “There is beauty in the dark, Ilunor. And I believe that fact alone is worthy of wonder and optimism. You just need to face and conquer the fear it takes to reach that beauty.” 

The earthrealmer paused, for far longer than what any of us would’ve expected.

“Whether that be the beauty of the celestial bodies, or the beauty of life. Because I, for one, can certainly say that it was more than worth it. To have risked and to continue to risk assured death, just for the chance to meet you all.” 

Thacea

A genuine sense of optimism underpinned Emma’s words.

A mindset that once again stood at odds with the lengths to which she had to both sacrifice and tolerate the impossibilities of her circumstances, and the shortcomings of her kind.

An optimism… that was almost infectious in a way. 

Especially as her helmet, and the gaze beneath it, seemed to be directed more towards me at the end of that response.

Part of me wanted to remind the earthrealmer of the harsh and darker realities of the world she now found herself in; out of concern for her well being.

Yet another part of me knew that she was already well aware of it.

I would hazard to call her naive, if it wasn’t for our interactions.

As above all else, perhaps idealistic was the best way to frame her sensibilities.

Though I could scarcely blame her for it. 

Especially given how her kind had achieved so much, with so very little.

And especially as her kind, a landed flock, managed to do what even the greatest of flighted avinor had only once conceived of in flights of fantasy.

Ilunor, at this point, had once more grown silent.

This coincided with Emma bringing us back ‘down’ towards her moon, and as she directed her attention once more towards the silent blue noble.

“I have to ask then, Ilunor. Considering your surprise at the nature of my sun and moon… what exactly is going on in the Nexus then? Because I sure as hell recall there being a sun in the sky everyday. No amount of clouds or obfuscated skies was ever going to hide that fact.” 

The Vunerian, momentarily emboldened by this, simply shrugged in response. 

“It’s simple, earthrealmer. Far more intuitive than whatever crazed abominations that constitute your sun and moon, really. Both the sun and the moon are seasonably-variable tapesteric phenomena — partial and controlled openings of the tapestry to the primavale. These openings, mediated by tapesteric membranes distinct from one another, create the phenomenon known as day, and illuminate the darkness of the night in the form of moonlight. The former, mediated by a tapesteric veil situated between the tapesteric layers called the Nictilume, and the latter mediated by another tapesteric veil, called the Nictumbra.” 

Emma visibly shifted at this, as she stared up at her own sun, before turning back towards the Vunerian. “But… that doesn’t make sense. If there’s a single tear that allows light through, then how does that illuminate the whole of the Nexus—”

“There’s more than one ‘tear’, earthrealmer, each illuminating different regions of the Nexus.” Ilunor shot back through an annoyed sigh. “Is that not obvious? Moreover, I would insist that you refrain from using tear to describe such a storied phenomenon. For these are controlled openings, distinct from the tears seen in the tapestries of other realms. In addition, these tears are capable of being manipulated, if need be, by laureated planar mages, granting us a greater form of control over the world than you ever will have.” 

Emma moved to speak, as if prompted by that latter line. “Well actually—” She paused, before inexplicably dropping that train of thought. “—that really explains why you were so adamant on your own narrative for the skies, the stars, and the celestial bodies in our realm.” She corrected her course, far less deftly than I would’ve done so myself. But enough for Ilunor to at least be satisfied with. 

Following which, did Emma seem to enter a state of deep thought, the Nexus’ state of being clearly being as much of a fundamental bother to her as her realm was to the Nexian.

It was in the midst of this however, did Thalmin interject, though it wasn’t to address any concerns about either reality’s fundamental underpinnings.

Instead, his questions were firmly directed towards more worldly concerns.

“Emma?”

“Yes, Thalmin?”

“This… obsession with space. It wasn’t merely a sportsmanlike competition, nor was it an endeavor made solely to satiate a single kingdom’s desire for exploration is it?” He began, before pointing at the planted red white and blue flag next to the unsightly voidcraft. “Judging by the banners, and the clear divide between vexillological and heraldry present, this was more than likely a competition between kingdoms. This endeavor, spurred on by some race to breach the tapestry. Because if your leader’s speech was anything to go by, with his final words declaring a desire for victory, then there must have been a rivalry, or even a war, with which to win.” 

Thalmin

Emma didn’t pause, nor did she allow doubt to form within dead air. 

Instead, she simply nodded, acknowledging my concerns without any indications to deceive. “You’re right on the money there, Thalmin.” She spoke plainly. “This whole back and forth, starting off with Sputnik, was a period known in our early contemporary history as the Space Race. It was, by many measures, as much a point of national pride between competing ideological blocs as it was about making a point — to put on a show of a nation’s scientific and technological capabilities.”

“Capabilities that would translate beyond mere industriousness, prosperity, or civil capability, I assume.” I added bluntly, gauging the earthrealmer’s reaction.

On whether or not she would intend to evade, or acknowledge what was so blatantly the truth that any warrior worth their mettle would’ve realized.

“If you’re implying that these achievements were also meant to publicize their military capabilities by proxy? Then yes, that was definitely part of it. Because science and technology, as with magic I presume, can be applied to both peaceful and martial endeavors. The same could most definitely be said for rocketry, which was a point of huge contention during this… uneasy peace between supranational ideological blocs.” 

I didn’t know where to begin.

Or what to address.

Emma’s… surprising earnesty, for one, was appreciated.

Though it was the content of her responses that sent me into deeper and deeper thought.

Ideological blocs? Competing alliances based not on blood or houses, or even religion, but on ideas of governance?

The thought… was fascinating, as much as it was novel. Or perhaps I was reading too much into what could’ve just as easily been a competition based on petty or minor political differences.

However, even that thought was supplanted by the much more burning theory that had just been validated. 

The theory that these firespears were in fact, as much a tool of exploration as they were an instrument of war. 

I paused, wishing to delve further into the sheer horror these artifices could inflict.

But something within me hesitated.

Either out of respect for the tone of this sight-seer, or the lengths to which we had already committed to another near-sleepless night.

Or perhaps, out of a fear of what I’d actually see.

“I’d like to see this in action, if possible.” I announced, testing the earthrealmer to see if she would comply. A lack of a response however was my answer, which prompted me to simply shrug. “But perhaps we can reserve that for another time.” I smiled. 

With a wordless nod from the earthrealmer and a sigh of relief from the Vunerian, the world around us was promptly and seamlessly brought to a close, revealing our curtained confines, which too opened up courtesy of the earthrealmer’s arachnid-like arm.

“I have to ask, Emma.” I spoke, as another thought soon dawned upon me.

A  question that hit far closer to my heart than I’d ever want to admit.

“Yeah?”

“This is… somewhat unrelated to my previous question, but I do wish to ask. Have you or your ancestors ever encountered… spirits on your moon?” 

This question garnered a chuckle from the Vunerian, whom I hushed with a terse growl.

As much as the old beliefs were fading, and as much as I understood that earthrealm’s unique circumstances put it at odds with those very beliefs, I… still needed to address this. 

For when else could I inquire about the existence of the Ancestral Plane, but from a people who had visited an analogue of such a place?

“Well, at the time of the first moon landings, I can most definitely confirm that the moon’s not haunted, Thalmin.” Emma began. However, just as quickly as she spoke, did she stop in her tracks, as if to reassess her own words. “Though… given it’s been a millennium since then, and nearly as much time since the creation of a permanent human settlement on the moon — I assume that there’s probably spirits up there now owing to how many humans have since lived and died on the moon.”

I curled my brow up at this, poised for a follow-up question that now contended with the ire of a princess’ glare. 

As if beckoning me to finally retire for the night.

“Right.” I acknowledged. “And I assume that this is—”

“Just a personal belief, really. Because there’s not really a way for us to objectively determine the existence of that using scientific instruments.”

“And this is an aspect of your faith or—”

“Yeah, roughly. Again, I’m probably not the best person to discuss these sorts of things.” Emma interjected sheepishly. 

With a respectful nod, and through the insistence of both Ilunor and Thacea, I silently took my leave.

But not before turning back to Emma one last time with a deeper nod. “This conversation has been quite enlightening Emma, thank you.”

Thacea

I watched, as following the dismantling of Emma’s sight-seer, did she simply remain upright, all the while letting out a series of soft and barely-audible sighs from deep within. 

“Emma, are you quite alright?”

“Oh, oh! Right, that… I thought I’d muted myself there but I guess I’m just a bit out of it.” She responded… whilst still maintaining impeccable posture. 

The contrast between her voice and condition, versus the armor’s state… struck me as odd.

Which prompted me to address it, if only because it was the most apt time to do so. “It sounds to me as if you have ample space inside of that armor to rest.” I began, garnering another chuckle from the human within. 

“Yeah… it was definitely designed to be that way. That, or I’m probably just a bit smaller on the inside than you’d imagine.” 

Those words prompted a moment of hesitation in the topic that next needed to be broached.

Though despite my curiosities, did my social sensibilities… and my concern for the earthrealmer win out. “As much as that may be the case, I must insist that you appropriately retire for the night, Emma. Lest you risk falling asleep in your armor on a night before classes.”