Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (107/?)

The two parade floats showed no signs of stopping. 

A fact quickly corroborated by the EVI. 

[Warning! Collision imminent!] 

So, without hesitation, I made my moves.

With one arm picking up the diminutive ferret — his whole body elongating like a slinky in the process — and the other arm poised to deploy the much-dreaded grappling hook, aimed just above Auris’ float. 

[Grappler trajectory confirmed! Proceed?]

However, no sooner were those calculations made, did the figureheads of both floats suddenly come to their senses, ordering their respective hallway-sized ego-machines to an abrupt halt.

Though, it would quickly become clear that this wasn’t done for the sake of the pedestrian.

Instead, the two parties seemed to be first and foremost preoccupied amongst themselves.

“Does Lord Auris Ping of Pronarthiarealm, fellow peer of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, yield to the Class Sovereign candidate, Lord Qiv’Ratom?!” The hamster-like Rostario shrieked bombastically, earning nothing but an annoyed grunt from the bull.

“No, I do not yield!” Ping shouted back, prompting Ladona to push forward with what I assumed to be a rebuttal.

“Does Lord Qiv’Ratom of Baralonrealm, fellow peer of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, yield to the Class Sovereign candidate, Lord Auris Ping?!” Ladona shot back. 

“No, I do not yield.” Qiv declared with a surprising degree of class compared to his bullish counterpart.

All of this culminated in both would-be candidates shifting their attentions down from their thrones, towards both me and the ferret merchant lord. 

“Do, you, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm, fellow peer of the Transgracian—”

“—Academy for the Magical arts, yadda, yadda, yadda…” I interrupted, letting my annoyance be known. “First of all, let’s take a step back. What’s all of this actually about?” I gestured frantically towards either float, decorated to the brim with mana-enriched metals glistening with not just random specks of light, but outright patterns that ranged from flowers to intricate engravings, to even the signatures of either ‘candidate’. 

That question, whilst received with a series of nods from Qiv’s group, seemed to be enough to give Ping the ‘ammunition’ he needed to strike back.

“HAH! The newrealmer once more shows her true colors, as one so lacking in the deeper nuances of the dynamics of power beyond mere feats of physical strength.” He taunted, eliciting an uproarious series of laughs from his float-members and followers, prompting me to tap my feet in response.

“You must have quite the selective memory, Lord Ping, as if I recall correctly… you of all people had first hand experience with a certain library card belonging to yours truly.” I stated bluntly, my hand tapping the pouch housing the aforementioned card. “I assume that the library doesn’t just hand out these things for ‘mere feats of physical strength’ now does it?” 

The bull’s eyes grew wide at that retort, Ladona’s spindly hands seemingly the only thing keeping him from violently  leaping out at me, as she gently massaged his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down.

It was Qiv’Ratom however, who’d fill me in, clearing his throat to garner all of our attention. “Please be reasonable, Lord Ping. It’s not everyday a newrealmer arrives with little to no context for our civil practices. It’s simply unreasonable to assume she has an answer to every question, so let’s try to enlighten her in a civilized manner, yes?” 

The bull refused to respond, simply shrugging as Qiv momentarily took the reins of the conversation. “What you see before you are floats, newrealmer. Simply put, they are part of a long-standing tradition, made with the intent of spreading awareness of a student’s declaration of intent in their campaign for the position of Class Sovereign.” 

“Right.” I nodded in acknowledgement. “So… I’m guessing the class sovereign is like, the de-facto leader or representative of the year group or something?” 

“Correct, newrealmer.” Qiv responded tactfully. “It is a position which only one may hold, for the duration of the entirety of the year group’s enrollment within the Academy.” 

Cogs started turning in my head at that revelation, as it quickly became clear how Class Sovereign wasn’t probably a clean one-to-one analog of Class President, but was once again probably yet another twisted mirror-version of the institutions back home. 

So even the humble Class President isn’t safe from Nexian-ification, huh?

“I’m assuming that there’s no voting involved then, is there?” I responded with a sigh, garnering a nod from Qiv, and an indignant huff from Ping. 

“Specify… voting, newrealmer.” The bull replied with a dismissive chuckle. 

“Oh come on… I know you guys at least have some concept of it.” I began with an exasperated sigh. “Voting… the process of choosing officials in positions of power, or policies, by declaring or casting your preference for said official or policy.” 

“And exactly why would we ever put such a time-honored and storied position to the whims of the esoteric inclinations of the ravenous masses?” Ping responded with an indignant huff. “Yes, you are correct in assuming that the concept of voting is not beyond us. But the act of voting, of casting your decision, is one which must be made amongst equals of heritage, pedigree, and titles. From the peerage council of class sovereigns, to the privy council in His Eternal Majesty’s court, the act of voting is sacrosanct, and must be reserved for those deserving of it. And even then, council decisions, no matter how unanimous, must ultimately always be subject to the will of the highest sovereign by decree or birthright.”

“The Dean is to the Class Sovereigns, what His Eternal Majesty is to the Privy Council — the ultimate voice amidst what are effectively extensions of his own power.” Qiv concluded, garnering what was perhaps one of the few nods of acknowledgement from Ping. 

“Right, so, if not voting… how exactly is the Class Sovereign chosen?” 

“By Dean’s decree, of course.” Ping responded with a self-satisfied smile. “Haven’t you been listening, newrealmer?” 

“If we’re being pedantic about it, that would be the answer.” I replied with an annoyed grunt. “But I meant the de-facto process, not de-jure Lord Ping.” 

“The prerequisite to even entering the challenge is to be a member of the top seven peer groups by points.” Qiv answered. “Following which, a test of strength, a test of knowledge, and a test of magical prowess will be required.”

“These tests differ from year to year, but it is the final test, the Quest for the Sword, which remains relatively similar year after year.” Auris continued, taking the mantle of answering from Qiv. “While the specifics change, the premise remains bound to the original myth surrounding the Academy’s founding, a tale of a wizened monarch being chosen by the enlightened waterfolk of Lake Telliad; a test conducted by His Eternal Majesty’s far-reaching sight and will. This monarch who was drawn to a vision of this artifact, suffered hardship after hardship before being bestowed this marker of leadership at the hands of this venerable water-bound  species — an artifact which he would later wield to aid His Eternal Majesty in his ultimate quest to establish Status Eternia.”

That rising tone of voice, coupled with his increasingly manic gesticulations, worried me greatly.

But it wasn’t out of fear of action or violence.

No.

It was fear of being trapped in another unskippable dialogue screen.

And whilst I hated to admit that we had anything in common, it took one blabbermouth to understand when another blabbermouth was about to go all in on a particular subject of their fixation. 

This was one of those moments. 

“Riiight.” I nodded warily. “Thanks for bringing me up to speed on this whole… campaign you got going on. But if you don’t mind, I do have places to be, people to see, and sooooo I think I’ll be leaving now.” I offered, before making a point to crane my head toward both directions. “Erm, I don’t suppose one of you guys could like… back up or something?”

“Backing up, would be akin to an admission to yielding, newrealmer.” Auris responded indignantly, prompting me to let out a sigh, before taking a few purposeful steps back. 

“Fine, I’ll just make my own way out. Gosh… why do you always insist on making everything so fricking complicated…” I responded through a half-mumble, turning to the EVI with a single, simple order. 

“EVI, sports mode. Leapfrog.” 

[...]

“EVI, leapfrog.” 

[...]

“Acknowledged. Activating sports mode, custom preset: LEAPFROG.”

With a sudden limberness felt throughout my body, and feeling as if I’d suddenly been imbued with some temporary DEX increase spell, I knelt down at the EVI’s virtual starting line; my eyes continuously trained on both the highlighted ‘track’ in front of me and Auris’ bewildered expression.

“Go.”

I sprinted forwards without warning, making a mad dash seemingly right towards Auris’ float, before at the very last minute, leaping over it in a single, pointed, jump. 

The quadruple-volume ceilings the Academy was so fond of using finally proved to be practical time around, as it gave me more than ample airspace to make the leap up and over Auris’ wedding-cake of a campaign float.

I couldn’t help but to let out a wide grin as all eyes were once more on me and my little stunt, and as Auris’ zealous fervor wavered into momentary dread upon seeing me outright lunging towards him, only to miss him by just a few inches. 

“Good luck on the whole class sovereign thing, guys!” I shouted back for good measure, giving the bewildered crowd a solid wave.

“This isn’t over, newrealmer!” I could hear Ladona screeching in Auris’ fear-stricken place, as I went about my merry way down the corner… with Etholin still in tow. 

The poor thing was practically shaking now, even as I set him down as soon as we were out of earshot. “Sorry about that little stunt, Etholin.” I offered with a nervous chuckle, reaching for the back of my neck in the process.

“I-it… it is… quite alright, Cadet Emma Booker.” He offered meekly, and through a nervous chattering of his teeth. “That… was… quite the feat of… strength.” 

“Heh, it’s nothing really. I mean… yeah, let’s just continue where we left off shall we?”

The ferret nodded, once more leading the way as he slowly, but surely, transitioned back to his prior gait and posture.

“So, yeah, I’d be more than happy to help you out with PE and all that. School stuff is the same in every realm I imagine, it’s a constant fight until graduation, so why not make that fight easier by lessening the burden amongst friends?” I continued, the mingling of my diplomatic and genuine side coming through just like it did with the gang.

“I-indeed, Cadet Emma Booker.” Etholin nodded. “I’d like that, very much. A-and as stated previously, t-this request is n-not a blanket declaration. T-the terms of our… m-mutual aid, can very much be enacted as per a case-by-case basis.”

“So not a wholesale mutual-defense pact, but more so a friendly understanding of cooperation, subject to whatever the issue is on hand. Leaving the option to go through with it, or withhold.” I clarified.

“Y-yes, in a manner of speaking.” Etholin acknowledged. “Considering this is the start of our working relationship, I believe it is prudent to set boundaries, so as to help establish the limits of our respective investments in either party.” The ferret took a moment to pause, before correcting himself promptly. “I-I do apologize i-if that is a bit too forward, Cadet Emma Booker. I understand if you take offense to the cold and callous nature of—”

“It’s alright, Etholin.” I attempted to reassure the man. “If anything, I appreciate the upfrontness. It’s not just good business, but also solid diplomacy-building; not mincing your words behind empty platitudes and such.” 

The ferret nodded in understanding, a confidence which burned bright in his eyes, giving me a surge of confidence in this whole diplomatic endeavor, as the first seeds of relations beyond the confines of my peer group seemed to have just been planted. 

However, just before we arrived at the intersection of dynamically-moving stairs, another thought quickly entered my head. As I realized I needed to broach this now, before we parted ways. 

“Hey Etholin, I’ve been meaning to ask you something since the commoner’s district.” I began, garnering a cock of the ferret’s head.

“Oh?”

“I don’t imagine many students have much of a reason to leave the ambassadorial district, so I’m curious as to what exactly you were doing out there?” I asked plainly.

“Ah! A very astute observation, Cadet Emma Booker!” Etholin perked up. “I was merely doing my rounds, visiting those under my patronage and sponsorship, as is tradition for Rontalisrealm merchant noblemen upon arrival at any foreign port! Such things are typically reserved for my bannermen, but given the exclusivity of Nexian visitation, it is typically expected for the issuer of charters and licenses themselves to make personal visits to their wards.” 

“Huh.” I acknowledged with a nod. “So, wait a minute, from what I understand… are you saying that the guy’s ability to trade and conduct  business is entirely dependent on your official sponsorship? Like, as a license issuer or something?”

“That is correct, Cadet Emma Booker.” Etholin nodded. “Commoners, unless under some form of a generational charter, must first acquire licenses or sponsorships from noble houses in order to conduct business or trade. Whilst the details of this vary, my family has been well known to be very generous with our sponsorships.”

“Hence why you’re known as a merchant Lord?” I clarified, causing the ferret’s ears to dip somewhat. “Sorry if that was offensive or anything, Etholin, I was just—”

“No, no! You… you are well within your rights to ask such questions, Cadet Emma Booker. You are entirely alien to our ways after all.”

“You don’t need to answer—”

“The answer is, yes, Cadet Emma Booker. There is… something of a taboo when it comes to the generous issuance of licenses and sponsorships to commoners. Generally speaking, there is an unspoken ratio as to what’s considered acceptable rates of issuance. A ratio which is determined by the amount of land a given noble house owns, and the number of sponsorships that noble house has issued at any given time.”

“I’m imagining your house has a lot of licenses issued then.” I offered.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Etholin affirmed, but then quickly clarified. “We are within what is considered the tail-end of the acceptable ratio. However, the issue arises in the diversity of our sponsorships, which most may see as nonexistent. This is because most of our sponsorships trend towards the single-generation issuance of merchant licenses, rather than the patronage of trades such as those of the Artisan charters, Scribes, non-magical Healers, Seafarers, and so on and so forth.” 

I couldn’t help but to remain entirely transfixed on this bit of the world’s lore, as opposed to whatever Auris and Qiv were doing. 

“This is all so very fascinating, Etholin.” I expressed with genuine delight, garnering a cock of Etholin’s head, and a perplexed expression bordering on confused relief. “There’s definitely a lot to be said about trade houses. In fact, some of the most powerful noble houses in our history were the more trade-focused houses. So I definitely see the wisdom in going down this route.” 

The ferret’s eyes widened even further, his mouth hanging agape as if he was taken by complete surprise. 

“I… This is… Thank you, Cadet Emma Booker.” The ferret took a moment to dip his head towards me. “Suffice it to say, it is… exceedingly rare to encounter those who consider my house’s practices to be anything but unsavory and undignified.” 

“I’m not saying that trade itself is inherently unproblematic and without its own unique brand of issues, mind you. But what I am saying is that giving commoners under your… care, the right to empower themselves like this, is certainly more noble in my book than simply keeping them from their aspirations.” 

The ferret nodded deeply once more, as a smile formed across his face. “I will take that as an… unusual compliment then, Cadet Emma Booker. Thank you.”

There was a genuine sense of giddiness that remained pervasive throughout his voice now, as the undercurrents of skittishness was punctuated by an overall renewed sense of pride. One that seemed otherwise on edge or under threat whenever amidst the ranks of the rest of the student body.

“Don’t mention it. I just say things as I see them, Etholin. Which… given the time, probably means I should be saying goodbye for now.” I responded, segueing into my departure from our little back and forths, as the Rontalisrealmer began walking off… one massive staircase at a time.

=====

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Healing Wing. Local Time: 2055 Hours.

Emma

I wasted no time in storming the grand lobby of the healing wing.

But the same could be said for the rejection I received upon arrival.

As a lone, tired-looking hooded elf looked up from the reception desk. Or at least, what I assumed was a reception desk hidden under piles upon piles of books, scrolls, and endless sheets of paperwork.

“I am afraid I cannot divulge the names of either student or faculty currently admitted within the in-patient wards of the healing wing.” The sullen, sleep-deprived looking elf apprentice spoke through a malaise that even I felt sorry for. 

“Well, I’m not exactly looking for a student or faculty member per se, she’s an outsider that I’m pretty sure was admitted here by Professor Chiska.” I attempted to clarify as politely, but insistently, as I could.

However, all I received in response was a tired sigh, as the half-lidded eyes of the elf barely even flinched despite the obvious annoyance I was causing her.

“I am afraid I cannot divulge the names of any student, faculty, or others, currently admitted within the in-patient wards of the healing wing.” She reiterated, simply resorting to adding a clause to a canned response that I quickly found out to be a pre-written script beneath one of her many stacks of documents. 

“Can I just take a look or something? I promise I’ll be out of your hair, quick.”

A pause punctuated that question, as the elf plonked her gloved finger on her pre-written script, before landing on an answer which she read verbatim.

“I am sorry, but outsiders are not allowed past visiting hours currently. Please try again during visiting hours.” She spoke slowly through a yawn, her consciousness threatening to leave her mortal coil.

Looking around, I knew that forcing or even sneaking my way in probably wasn’t the best way of going about this, given the sheer number of gargoyles present. 

So I disengaged for now.

Though it was clear I wasn’t the only one to disengage from this battle.

PLONK!

…

My rear view cameras confirmed that the elf in question had finally succumbed to the call of slumber, papers now scattering following her unfortunate face-plant.

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower. Level 23. Residence 30. Local Time: 2115 Hours.

Emma

I arrived to find a relatively relaxed atmosphere in the dorm.

With Thacea silently reading a book, downing cups of tea in the process.

Thalmin having had just returned from the gym, his attention now entirely consumed by the small batch of homework I just remembered we were assigned.

And finally, Ilunor, busy doing much of the same.

It was almost a bit of an emotional whiplash to be seeing everyone in full school-mode following the back and forth adventures we seemed to be faced with in between classes.

I could almost forgive myself forgetting we even had classes and assessments sometimes.

Almost, being the operative word here.

“EVI?” 

“Yes, Cadet Booker?”

“Do you think you can do my homework for me?” 

[...]

“Please? It’s mission-sensitive.” 

“Does the mission operator wish to classify school assignments as [mission sensitive]?”

“Yes, please dedicate just some of your processing power for this, I’m sure it won’t take much. Just print it out or something when you’re done, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

[...]

“Acknowledged.”

“Thanks, EVI.” I beamed back, taking a sigh of relief for actually being able to expedite one of the more laborious tasks here. 

“Homework, I’m guessing?” I asked the gang, who all nodded, save for Thacea. 

“I’ve already completed my assignments. You may take a look if you wish to, Emma.” Thacea offered candidly.

“Nah, it’s fine, I’m finishing mine right now actually.” I beamed out brightly, tapping my helmet in the process, preemptively addressing the questions which were undoubtedly coming my way. “In here, just processing it all as we speak.”

“Right.” Ilunor responded, half-unamused, half-tired from my shenanigans. “I am not even going to entertain the thought of asking what you meant by that.” He sighed, choosing to disengage… which was probably the best thing he could do tonight.

Getting into the existence of the EVI, was a whole can of worms unto itself.

“Fair enough. In any case, I had a question I wanted to ask you guys about. Several, actually.” I began as I sat down on the couch. 

“Go ahead, Emma?” Thacea acknowledged, choosing to sit opposite of me. 

“The search for Rila is currently hitting a bit of a roadblock, and I have two paths ahead of me that I could take.” 

…

10 Minutes Later

…

“Correction, you have one path ahead of you, Emma.” Thacea answered definitively, leaving no room for argument or discourse.

“I’m assuming it’s not the idea where we attach Rila’s bracelet to a drone, then having it circle around the medical wing to see if it’d activate?”

“No, Emma.” Thacea doubled-down, in a way that only a stern partner could. With a sigh and a firm grip of her forehead, she quickly continued. “Your second idea — which at this point makes me wonder exactly how the more sane idea could be your second — is the one I am most comfortable with.”

“So… just talking to Chiska about it tomorrow, or whenever she’s free? Like, asking to visit Rila or whatever?” 

“Yes.” Thacea acknowledged with an exasperated breath. “Yes, Emma. That is the best way of going about it. Following which, should the results of this venture prove questionable, we will then discuss the possibility of escalation.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s the same idea with just asking for the book from Larial instead of stealing it I guess.” I nodded in understanding, Thacea taking a moment to exhale a sigh of relief in tempering my more flighty ideas.

“You mentioned you had more topics to discuss, Emma?” Thacea questioned, following the downing of an entire cup of tea.

“Yeah, actually, two things. The first being the whole ‘Class Sovereign’ situation.” 

“Ah… I assume the would-be rabble rousers are finally out on their floats?” Ilunor chimed in with a dismissive puff. 

“Yeah, actually — Qiv and Auris. They explained the whole thing to me already, but I was wondering—”

“Oh please don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself into another quagmire, Emma…” Ilunor muttered out with both hands covering his face, muffling his voice in the process. 

“Erm, no. I just kinda got outta there as soon as I realized what it was all about.”

“Oh.” Ilunor responded, with almost the exact sense of relief Thacea had expressed. 

“If anything, I was wondering since we’re like… what… currently the fifth in terms of points, if any of you were thinking of running for Class Sovereign?” 

“The thought did cross my mind.” Ilunor acknowledged. “However, following the incident with a certain black-robed professor… any boons which could have been gained from such a coveted title would almost  certainly be upstaged by the consequences of being trapped in close proximity to that of the black-robed professor’s office.” The Vunerian seethed, his eyes landing on my own. “You can see why that would be less than optimal, considering my experiences, and our current standing?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” I nodded. “That’s… actually very reasonable of you, Ilunor. I’d thought that you’d be chasing after titles like—”

“A climber of the social ladder as I may be, I know how to make informed decisions.” He interjected.

“Yeah, but only after you’ve had your eyes opened by a near-death experience.” Thalmin chimed in, garnering a glare from the Vunerian. “I’m not saying it’s bad, I’m just saying that’s just how life works sometimes. Being close to death, means you have a renewed appreciation for life and caution.”

“Ugh, I’ve had enough of your Havenbrockian platitudes for one day, Prince Thalmin.” Ilunor rebutted, garnering a shrug from Thalmin as he just as quickly dropped back down into his homework.

“You know, I think you made the right call here, Ilunor. A silly quest where you go around trying to find a sword is no basis for a system of governance, not even a student government. You can’t expect to be sovereign just because some random fish lady threw a sword att you. If I went around saying I was emperor of the halls, or supreme lord of the school gardens or something just because some slimy frog creature lobbed a trident  at me, everyone would call me crazy!”

Silence threatened to creep in following that, but Thacea was quick to make short work of any lulls in the conversation.

“And your next point, Emma?”

“Oh, well, this is actually kind of a big one. And I’m actually curious why you guys seem to be rather lax about this whole thing.” I began, garnering a cock of Thacea’s head. “It’s about tomorrow’s house choosing ceremony. I’m just wondering what it actually entails, and why you guys seem so calm about it.”

That question seemed to snap something in Ilunor’s mind, as he got up from his pile of homework, and walked purposefully right towards me. “Isn’t it obvious, earthrealmer? It is because we have given up.”

My brow quickly perked up at that, as I turned to both Thacea and Thalmin with a confused glance, obscured by the metal and composalite. “What?” 

“If it needs to be spelled out, the house choosing ceremony is an explicitly magic-oriented affair. The moment you sat at our table, joining our peer group, was the moment where we all understood we would have practically no chance at accruing the points necessary to get first-pick of our desired house. Moreover, the moment you revealed yourself to be entirely manaless, was the moment where any lingering hope completely died.” Ilunor surmised with a frustrated zeal. 

“Is… is this true, guys?” I turned to face both Thacea and Thalmin, the latter seemed to be putting up a positive face, hiding the emotions stirring within.

“As much as it pains me to acknowledge that something this… superficial was another cause of my early grievances against you, Emma. I must stand by the truth and admit that, yes, this was the case. However, looking back at the circumstances now… that sense of frustration seems so far away and childish in retrospect. The houses seem so small now, Emma. Especially compared to what we’ve gone through, and what we can build together in spite of Nexian conventions.” 

Thalmin’s reply felt… so unabashedly genuine, so much so that I didn’t know how to process this sudden influx of thoughts and feelings.

“Actually, Ilunor, I had no such drive for the House Choosing ceremony from the onset, given my tainted status.” Thacea shrugged. “I understood, from the moment I entered that portal, that the house choosing ceremony would be yet another event to be tolerated.” 

“But I had such hopes.” Ilunor countered, though his tone of voice was rife with a sense of defeatism. “In any case, that’s your answer, earthrealmer. The house choosing ceremony is simply a battle we cannot fight.”

A silence finally descended on our group, as I was left to ponder everything.

“So… what exactly is expected from this whole ‘house choosing’ ceremony thing? Like, will there be challenges like during PE, or…” 

“It’s something of a show of magical prowess, Emma.” Thacea explained. “With limited guidelines as to how this is done, simply that all displays must be conducted exclusively through magical processes.” 

“So… a magical talent show?” 

“That’s a reductive way to put it, but yes.” Ilunor acknowledged through a soot-filled puff.

“Please understand that this isn’t at all a serious matter, Emma.” Thacea clarified with a smile.

“It’s ultimately another mechanism of the Academy’s control.” Thalmin acknowledged with a nod. “And given everything we’ve been through, it’s just not really worth the trouble.” 

The next several minutes would be spent wracking my head around the whole situation.

Whilst I understood that everyone had more or less moved past what was effectively a tool of Nexian social conventions, I still couldn’t help but to feel just a little bit responsible for potentially ruining what could have at least been a fun event for the gang — an opportunity for them to flex their magical skills.

I wanted to at least give them a chance to flex in front of the student body. 

It was then that a lightbulb moment hit me, and my eyes lit up like fireworks.

This event didn’t need to involve my usual tricks.

It didn’t need me to overcome or compensate for my inability to practice magic.

Drones, fireworks, light shows, all ‘disqualifiers’, just weren’t needed in this event.

This was their show.

I just needed to do the bare minimum.

And there was at least one magic trick I could do whilst adding something to the score, without detracting from the gang’s performance.

“Actually… I have an idea.” I offered with a wide, mischievous grin.