Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (109/?) WiP 1

Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 109 I hope you guys enjoy! :D

In the spirit of cosmic balance, it would seem that the expediting of one questline meant the complications of another.

Ilunor and Thalmin would be quick to stop me in my tracks, making sure that I at least participated in a few of the practice runs in one of the academy’s many open-air parks.

I agreed with one caveat.

That being the specific time I’d come in for my part of the rehearsals.

“Sooooo can I come in sometime after lunch?” I offered, prompting some huffing from the Vunerian, a tentative nod from the lupinor, and a resounding verbal approval from Thacea who more or took the words out of my mouth.

“Considering your role is to simply stand in the final few minutes of the third act? Yes, Emma.” The princess acknowledged, urging the two men out towards one of the many practice fields, and gesturing for me to continue as I was.

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The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. En Route to the Healing Wing. Local Time: 0910 Hours.

Emma

The first part of our walk towards the healing wing was strangely silent.

However, this eventually changed as the crowds cleared the closer we got to the healing wing. 

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 300% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

But only after the application of a cone of silence.

“I am certain you may have some questions, Cadet Emma Booker.” She began, her tone of voice mixed somewhere between her usual upbeat demeanor, and a sense of serious apprehension. “I am giving you the opportunity to ask, though please do keep your questions within reason. I can only answer so much, after all.” 

“Of course, professor.” I acknowledged. “First off, if everything with Rila is as I’d expect it to be, then I just wanted to give you my preemptive thanks for keeping your promise.” 

The professor perked up a brow at this, as she leveled a sly yet calculating gaze my way. “Well I wouldn’t be too quick to dispense gratitudes just yet.”  

“Wha—?”

“Which is to say, I can neither confirm nor dismiss your concerns, since I am without knowledge of what it is you are expecting.” The professor promptly interjected with a polite and reassuring smile.

“Oh, right, sorry. I… well… I expect her to be in decent health for one. As in, being provided the best care that’s available.”

“As one might expect, yes.” The professor acknowledged with a nod. 

“Secondly, I expect that she’d be… well… how do I say this politely…” I took a moment to pause, thinking my words through carefully. “I expect her to be the exact same when she’s discharged, as she was when she was being admitted.”

“‘The same’ in regards to…?” Chiska insisted.

“Well, to be blunt professor — with regards to any binding spells or contracts or what-have-you.” I stated plainly. “Let’s just say that out of the many good things I have to say about the wonderful world of magic, that these two topics have come close to spoiling the whole experience for me.” I added in as diplomatic of an approach as I could. 

Chiska regarded those words with a contemplative nod, breaking my gaze for just a moment to admire the view outside — most notably, the fields surrounding the gymnasium currently brimming with magical activity.

“Speaking frankly, Cadet Emma Booker, I believe that is a sentiment shared between both you and I.” The professor spoke with a level of earnesty I hadn’t yet seen from anyone but Sorecar… though perhaps a bit more restrained and composed than the aforementioned armorer. “To those ends, I can assure you that there has been nothing of the sort done to Trade Apprentice Lartia-Siv-Rel. For so long as she is in my care, I have assured that all will be ‘as expected’ from our promise.”

My eyes narrowed at one specific detail, despite the initial sense of elation from Chiska’s rather altruistic views. “Lartia-Siv-Rel, professor?” I attempted to clarify in as few words as I could, garnering a cock of the feline.

“Perceptive!” The professor nodded with a degree of respect. “Indeed, I can see that you’ve either had prior contact with the girl, or perhaps you’ve simply picked up quite a bit of knowledge on Nexian class-nomenclature.” Chiska allowed that to hang in the air for a moment, a sly grin painted across her face, before moving forward. “Regardless of which it is, I am afraid I cannot divulge anything more as it pertains to that topic. It would be rude of me to tackle such a sensitive matter firmly within the realm of personal affairs. However, I am certain that your perceptiveness will lead you to discerning an answer one way or another.” The professor added with a wink, finishing off her end of the conversation just as we arrived in the healing wing proper. 

This was probably the first time I’d entered the healing wing’s wards without risking disciplinary action. 

It felt almost weird to be entering its halls, instead of being told off by some apprentice. 

It felt even weirder to be let through with just a nod from the attending apprentice, and to be let into the bowels of the tower which I’d just scaled a week ago. 

Just as expected… things felt far bigger on the inside than they had any business of being. 

Though thankfully, this bigness only applied to four axes, as the long walk up more or less confirmed that verticality was at least still within the realm of euclidean normality.

“We’re here.” The professor announced, gesturing towards one of the many identical doors in the sterile whitestone and granite tile halls. 

I felt a bit of apprehension as the professor pushed the door open, my whole body tensing as despite the promises and reassurances, there was still that latent fear that this could be a trap… or worse.

Though perhaps a part of me, the part of me expecting normality, was also concerned about the more grounded issues — namely her state of health. 

All of these concerns eventually came to a head as we finally entered the room, my eyes and sensors darting towards a lone figure on a gelatinous-looking oversized jellybean of a bed.

“Rila?” I managed out, taking several tentative strides forwards towards her bedside.

[TARGET IFF CONFIRMED: RILA (LARTIA-SIV-REL)]

That single word managed to stir the scrub-wearing elf from her malaise, her eyes practically lighting up as soon as they locked on my helmet. 

“Emma Booker?” She spoke meekly, and through a hoarse and strained breath.