Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School

Orientation. That was what the blue-robed elf spoke of when he, and the red-robed professor, escorted me towards yet another expansive room. This one more resembled the grand dining halls of old European palaces, gaudy, but still somehow tasteful. It was large, far larger than even the foyer, with white marble and a smokey gray quartz lining every square inch of the floor. In fact, if you looked closer, you could see these intricate, lightning bolt-looking patterns that more resembled cracks in the otherwise pristine flooring that pulsated with each step you took. Well, it pulsated for everyone else anyways, but it seemed practically dead with each and every one of my steps.

Speaking of footsteps, it was clear that the sound generated by a hard composite boot slamming into an equally hard, unyielding surface, was rather loud and borderline offensive. Given the fact that the entire room seemed to have been clued in on my arrival, even prior to my entry into that elevated outcropping that positioned anyone entering the room about a half-floor’s height above the rest on a grand set of stairs. It seemed to be something reminiscent of those grand staircases where one’s name would be called out prior to entering the room.

Indeed, as I looked to my side, I saw this scrawny, yet well dressed diminutive elf that was in the process of unfurling a scroll filled to the brim with names and titles. A scroll which I promptly snapped a photo of, for that sweet, sweet intel.

“And finally, the last to join the esteemed ranks of the first-year class of 29,019, Miss Emma Booker, of Earthrealm!” The elf announced, much to the completely lifeless reactions of the room filled to the brim with what I can only describe as an eclectic collection of fantasy and alien races alike. From even more elves of varying phenotypes through to lizardmen that could’ve just as easily belonged in a Harry Turtledove novel as much as a Dungeons and Dragons rulebook. Some of them seemed to be wearing a dressed-down version of the professor’s cloaks and gowns, yet quite a few seemed to be adorned in silks and other assorted fineries reserved for the nobility of old Europe. Perhaps this is what the Professors meant when they said that the uniform situation could be sorted later?

It was a lot to take in, but what was more disconcerting was a sudden, almost inexplicable realization of the situation that I was currently being thrust into.

I had not taken into account just how life here would actually pan out. Most of the training had been squarely focused on survival, and survival alone. From suit maintenance to potential protracted engagements, to weapons training, there was a distinct lack of any training in the realm of just… fitting in. What’s more, I didn’t even consider it given how much of my anxiety and concern was fixated on just surviving the journey here and not turning into a liquefied mess.

So when the issue of my survival was well and truly out of frame, what was left was the need to adapt to college life. It was, ironically, something that I’ve been preparing at home for years now. However, something told me that those months of cramming for the SATs and years spent in AP classes probably wouldn’t mean much here.

I stared at the crowd blankly… was I supposed to say something? Curtsy? Is that what old medieval people did? Was I expected to give a speech about being the first human here? Or rather, the first living human here?

My anxieties ate away at me as the massive crowd of students likewise seemed to lack any suitable response to what was effectively a 7 foot tall suit of power armor staring all of them down.

“Emma.” I finally heard Vanavan whispering. “You’re supposed to just go down to whichever seat you deem suitable.”

A feeling of relief washed over me as I realized that I didn’t have to give an impromptu speech after all-

“That is, if you don’t wish to give a speech. Being the first of your realm, there are expectations, but this can vary from person to person and realm to realm. So, do as you please.” The red-robed professor quickly interjected with a sly, almost mischievous voice. Something I wasn’t expecting from someone who possessed the face of a kind elderly grandmother.

That relief that had washed over me had suddenly disappeared, now completely replaced by a sense of utter dread as I cleared my throat, adjusted my suit’s speakers to make sure I would be audible, and spoke.

“H-hello. I’m Cadet Emma Booker of the United Nations’ Reserve Officer Training Corps, North-American Sector, Homeworld Command. I am here on behalf of…” My people? The United Nations of Earth and Luna? My country? My nation? “... humanity, and its representative body, the United Nations. I hope to… learn from everyone here, to share cultures and ideas, and to see what there is to see here.” I managed out, forcing a smile underneath my helmet even though I knew that wasn’t necessary.

Silence was all that greeted me after that introduction, however. Silence followed by the start of mumbles and whispers, which normally wouldn’t even be audible from this distance, but was certainly more than audible using the suit’s onboard audio-visual sensors.

“They sent a squire?”

“No, I think ‘cadet’ is the lowest rank of any armed forces isn’t it?”

“Nono, that’s only in the Alturic Principality. In my Kingdom, it’s the rank of those of commoner-candidates who wish to join as auxiliary commissioned officers.”

“You Alturicians with your commoners…”

“Whatever! That doesn’t change this dishonor! The Earthrealm sees itself as so much more important that it sends the lowest of the low to our ranks?”

“Even the Empire of Alanor sends its merchant houses, commoners as they may be. A lowly officer-candidate is not rich or socially prominent are they?”

“Not in my Kingdom, no!”

“I hate to be pointing out the obvious here but, why the hideous suit of armor?”

“To hide the hideousness underneath more than likely…”

“Wait, you guys, I don’t see her mana-field.”

“Maybe because she’s too far away-, no, wait you’re right. Wait… no, they couldn’t have.”

“Did they send a slave to the Nexus?”

“They wouldn’t dare. That suit of armor must be enchanted, it must be hiding her mana-fields. There’s no adjacent realm thick enough or foolish enough to send a mana deficient creature.”

“Well, this is going to be a fun academic year… we either have a peer that possesses magical enchantments that far surpasses any of our own artificing methodologies hiding whatever tainted creature lies within. Or we have a mana deficient creature, a slave in all but name, masquerading as a peer.”

“The truth shall make itself known soon enough.”

I shut off my long-range listening device (L-RLD) almost immediately after hearing those unfiltered voices. The jabs and slights at the armor and my apparent shortcomings in the physical attractiveness department wasn’t what really worried me. Heck, it wasn’t even the rampant classism and throwback to pre-industrial politics that worried me.

It was the latter claims of magical deficiencies and slavery. That was going to be a hot topic I needed to sort out… preferably sooner rather than later.

A grimace formed at the edges of my face as I turned towards the Professors worryingly. The pair seemed to be oblivious to the fact that I’d been able to discern the general consensus within the room, as they simply gestured for me to descend down the stairs and into the dining hall proper.

Whatever social interactions came next was probably going to suck.

The Foyer

“Come out.” Mal’Tory spoke under a rigid, hushed breath. Despite this his voice still echoed throughout the foyer, carried by some unseen force that caused anyone within visual distance to feel as if that simple command was being whispered right into their very ears.

Yet there was no response, not from any of the gaggle of interlopers currently hiding in abject fear of being caught.

“I understand there are three of you hiding within the servant’s quarters. Fitting. Really. Given how you lot cower like the lesser elves whose rooms you currently inhabit. Perhaps that should be your punishment hmm? A relocation to the servant’s quarters for an entire semester?”

Not a single one dared to respond as they all held their collective breaths.

“Unlike the rest of the professors, I speak with the Royal Council’s authority. Your bluffs of noble nepotism fall flat.”

Silence.

“Consider this a warning then. I will allow you three to wallow in the fact that your identities may or may not be known to me.” An uncompromising grimace remained plastered on the man’s face as his posture never once faltered whilst gazing up at those shallow slits in the wall. “I leave you with these parting words as a welcome to your academic year.” He concluded, before finally, leaving the room entirely. His exit caused the lights, the very room itself, to quake in knowing fear.

The Lesser Elf Hideaway

The Lupinor stood with his back up against the uneven stone finish of the room, the dampness of the walls seeping into his uniform and fur as he stared blankly into space.

The Vunerian, meanwhile, seemed adamant on hiding underneath the servant’s bed, his whole body quaking as every fiber of his being screamed at him to do something, yet he remained in a hyperventilating state all the same.

It was only the Avinor princess who remained relatively calm, her expressions whilst difficult to read on account of the beak, was still decidedly unmoved by the whole exchange.

“Let’s head back to orientation now, there’s not much time left before it officially starts.” Was all she said as she walked calmly towards the door, only to be chastised by the Vunerian.

“H-how are you so calm?! I-it’s because you’re a princess isn’t it? You know you won’t be affected like the rest of us! You know you’re going to get off scot-free! You probably even know the guy personally! You-”

“There’s no point in cowering or panicking.” Was all Thacea said in response. “You learn that the hard way when you’re in the Royal Court.” Her tainted aura seemed to shift and shudder at that, forcing the Vunerian into silence once more as the Lupinor nodded in agreement.

“Let’s get going then. As tainted as the princess is, she has a point. In battle, there are sometimes losses, sometimes gains. It isn’t worth worrying about the long-term implications of recent losses, if you don’t live to survive the next battle. So let’s make this next battle count.” The Lupinor practically growled out towards Ilunor, but in a complete shift of attitude, gave Thacea a curt nod. “Perhaps I may have misjudged you in the opening hours of this battle, princess. Your resolve, at least compared to this lizard’s, is stronger than I could’ve imagined.”

“Thank you.” Thacea responded promptly, a smile of relief forming at the edges of her beak.

“I am merely stating a fact. If we are to survive here, we will all need to share a similar resolve.” The Lupinor chimed back, before turning his head towards the now dust-ridden Vunerian. “A resolve which is severely lacking in our Vunerian comrade.”

Without a second’s hesitation the pair promptly left the servant’s hideaway. Followed closely behind by Ilunor who, in his rush, was particularly more disheveled than when he first entered the room.

“You made sure to bring your amulets, yes?” The Lupinor continued as he slowed down just enough for the Vunerian to catch up.

“So you’ve heard the rumors too?” Thacea inquired back, refusing to respond just yet as she gauged the wolf’s expressions with questioning intent.

“Anyone worth their mettle and their stations would have heard the rumors!” Ilunor suddenly interjected, still winded as his shorter, stubbier legs found it difficult to maintain the long graceful strides the taller pair of misfits were capable of.

“Yes. So I ask again, did you bring your amulets of dispelling?” The Lupinor reiterated, his tone shifting to one that was much more severe, pressing the matter without room for anything beyond a yes or a no answer.

“Yes. Of course. There isn’t any reason not to be careful, especially in such turbulent times. It is troubling to believe that the faculty would be so brazen to attempt the binding ritual on orientation day. Those… less fortunate will have no time to prepare, and to my understanding this will be the first time in over a thousand years that the faculty will be brazen enough to break any of the unspoken rules.” Thacea responded, opening up the doors to further discussion as she and the Lupinor both palmed their respective amulets underneath their cloaks, one disguised as a ceremonial dagger, the other disguised as a pendant on a royal necklace.

“And you, Ilunor? Have you brought your amulet of dispelling?” The Lupinor turned back towards the exhausted Vunerian, who only nodded in reply as he struggled to maintain the pair’s ungainly pace.

“Let us hope it does not come to it. However, if it does, then at the very least we will be safe in the knowledge that our group will be protected from the chains of the ritual of the binding charter.” Thacea sighed back in apprehension as the pair now found their way back towards the side entrance to the grand reception hall.

The Grand Reception Hall

Emma Booker

Do you know the feeling you get when you enter a movie theater 10 minutes past its start? Or that the awkwardness that comes with mingling with strangers at your distant relative’s expensive wedding? That was the feeling I was experiencing as I waded my way through the sea of domed dishes and fine silverware that floated to and from each table.

Yet unlike the long, communal tables of certain fantastical schools I’d read as a child, this school seemed adamant on modeling itself more like an exclusive dining venue. Closed-off groups had already clearly formed as evidenced by their active conversations and dismissive glares. Species-exclusive tables were likewise scattered about, particularly true for the elves and those of draconic descent. Indeed, there wasn’t a single table that was available save for the strangely out of place circular one tucked away in a far corner of the room. One that was clearly supposed to seat four, but at this point was empty.

I realized this was probably my best bet, even if this meant I wouldn’t be mingling with the locals for the duration of this orientation.

Great. We’re back to middle school politics on who sits with who. This was supposed to be a college, everyone here’s my age, why aren’t they acting like it?

My thoughts and growing anxiety were quickly replaced by a far more pressing matter however, as I sat down at the table, and felt the unmistakable feeling of a chair far too fragile for the immense weight of my suit. My heart skipped a beat as I felt my whole body clench whilst I struggled to shift my weight to avoid, or at least delay the inevitable. The engineers back at home probably hadn’t even accounted for this exact scenario, and probably any other scenario that didn’t involve outright utility, maintenance, repair, or survival. Ergonomic functionality in day-to-day social interactions was probably the last thing on their minds when designing and constructing this thing, and it was beginning to show.

But what else could I do? Stand?

I knew that I’d just have to chance it. Placing half of my weight on the chair and the other half on my calves as I maintained an awkward, almost painful ‘seated’ position, all in an attempt to prevent the unthinkable from happening in the middle of what was perhaps the most important day of the year. First impressions were everything and I’d already started off on an unsavory foot with that ‘speech’.

Not to mention the troubling implications of their gossiping whispers.

Yet it was just as I had managed to acclimate myself that a new unexpected variable entered the picture, in the form of three additional students who quickly joined my table in a hurried sprint.

The three seemed to halt dead in their tracks when they spotted me, as their eyes strayed throughout the room, in some last minute attempt to scour for any other available seats. When it became clear this wouldn’t be possible however, the three began to resign themselves to their respective fates. The small, diminutive, somewhat disheveled looking draconic lizard seemed to just be done with it all, simply sinking into his seat with a sigh of defeat. The werewolf looking creature however, seemed dead-set on just staring me down, as if sizing me up for a fight. Finally, the most striking of the bunch, what most resembled a tropical bird, seemed to have given me a single glance before turning back towards the various other points of interest scattered throughout the room.

The bird in particular stood out the most, despite being dressed in the drab grays and blacks of the academy’s uniform, what plumage was still visible stuck out in stark contrast with the otherwise repetitive gold, silver, marble, and granite of the castle. This was probably why even more eyes were drawn to us now, as our little corner had become an eclectic collection of oddities to gawk at.

I was so focused on the various eyes and hushed voices fixated on us that I didn’t notice the bird’s gaze shifting towards me. Without any warning, other than a soft barely audible whisper from her beak, a flurry of alarms assaulted my HUD.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 192% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

Yet as quickly as the alert had sounded, so too did it vanish from view, as the radiation levels dropped back down to background levels after a few short seconds.

I shot an accusatory glance at what I assumed was the perpetrator behind this with a grunt of annoyance, shifting my weight around in my seat… only to realize that the seat no longer felt like it was about to give way.

A sharp shocked exhale of disbelief escaped from my vocoder, garnering the attention of the two and an ever so subtle smile from the bird. Or at least what I assumed was a smile.

I cocked my head at the avian stranger as she reciprocated with a knowing nod. It was at this point that I finally broke my minutes-long silence with as appreciative of a response I could muster.

“Emma Booker, thanks for the save there.”

“Princess Thacea Dilani, it’s my pleasure.”