Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Emma and Thacea’s Dorm. Local Time: 1545 Hours.

Thalmin

A considerable amount of time was spent on drafting out our plans, so much so that Emma had temporarily retired to her tent. However, by the end of it, we’d found ourselves with our battle lines now drawn and our pieces tentatively placed.

Though far from complete, and more the product of overeager restlessness stemming from the highs of our recent victories, our goals had become clearer; our paths now better defined.

Or at least, marginally so, given we now had a sense of direction with some of our campaigns.

Our primary quest remained the same — survive the academy, at any cost.

Though this was easier said than done, and subject to the whims of outside forces and parties both known and enigmatic.

Dramatics aside, there was little we could do to actually prepare for the Academy, for all our preparation had already been done for us in the form of the schedules and timetables. All we could really do, was to familiarize ourselves with what was already known.

It was the element of the unexpected that truly worried me however; Auris’ unprovoked assault being a fine example of the titular ‘unexpected’.

As a result, it was our side-quests that had taken more form. As unlike our primary campaign, our optional side-quests were ours to dictate, and our responsibility alone. The recent string of successes in the form of our most recent discoveries, to our most recent gains, solidified that notion; giving us the prerequisites we needed to push forward with the completion of our goals.

The discovery of Mal’tory’s notebook was a step forward, if not the first major step, towards completing the library campaign; a matter which bound both Emma and Ilunor’s fates.

The lump sum gained from the Vunerian’s wager, would grant us the ability to extend our reach into the vast unknowns of the Nexus, in search of this amethyst dragon. Thereby taking us one step closer towards the reconstruction of Emma’s transplanar communications artifice; giving her the ability to at the very least communicate back home albeit in a rudimentary fashion.

The results of which would undoubtedly allow for Emma’s clandestine operations to truly begin, and a new stage in our peer group’s dynamics to truly take shape.

Whilst limited in its capacity to relay information, given the newrealmer’s limited understanding of transplanar communication and the inherent limitations of the crystal when utilized in this… unconventional setup, the fact remained that so long as it was Emma that was communicating, and so long as Emma remained the de-facto representative of Earthrealm… we would at least stand a chance at breaking from the insipid constance that was Status Eternia.

For each hour that passes, and each moment that we grow closer, so too does Havenbrock’s chances at forming a tangible alliance grow with it.

If Emma fails to contact Earthrealm, if spirits and ancestors forbid… she somehow fails and is replaced or entirely excommunicated… all hopes at forming something tangible will be lost with it.

Moreover, all hopes of Emma’s mission succeeding would be completely expunged.

That was something I could not allow, not from a utilitarian, nor from a moral and ethical perspective, and most especially not as her friend.

This was more than a ‘once in a lifetime’ opportunity, this went far beyond a ‘generational event’... this was a paradigm shift with which I had the capability of not just influencing, but outright facilitating.

Perhaps it was my foolishness, my brazenness, or even my own shortcomings… but I only see one correct path ahead — the path that most would call a leap of faith. Though in my eyes, if life were to present an opportunity never before seen, and not at all comparable to any event in history, then only a fool would be one to refuse such an opportunity.

After all, Havenbrock wouldn’t be what it currently is if we hadn’t taken the initiative.

So it stands to reason that there was precedence for my ultimate goals, and the actions I was willing to take to reach those ends.

As it stood now however, the planning had more or less been put on hold following Emma’s inexplicable departure for her tent.

Though it’d been a solid few hours since her sudden departure…

“Do you think she’s dead?” The Vunerian announced abruptly, completely out of nowhere, prompting Thacea’s furious scribbling to halt in her tracks.

“What in the wide expanse of the Nexus, has possessed you to say that?!” I questioned with a firm growl, scooting up from my slouch towards the Vunerian who seemed entirely unbothered by my outcry. He remained supine atop of ‘his’ fainting couch, his head propped up by a pillow, and his arm lazily reaching towards a small tower of jellied treats.

“Well it’s just she has been gone for a while now.” The Vunerian responded with a dismissive shrug. “Long enough that the kitchen was able to provide us with refreshments. I mean… she did say she would only ‘be a moment’.” He added, putting up a frustratingly ‘innocent’ front.

“If you haven’t something constructive to say, then don’t say anything at all, Ilunor.” I growled back in annoyance.

“I was merely being facetious, Thalmin.” The blue thing finally ‘surrendered’, feigning the motion by raising both of his hands above his chest, momentarily halting the otherwise uninterrupted flow of food from tray-to-mouth.

“In any case—” Thacea chimed in, providing an off-ramp to the Vunerian’s attempt at distasteful humor. “—perhaps we should refocus our attention back towards something a bit more productive?”

“What is there left to discuss, princess?” Ilunor offered with a sigh. “The plan is simple, no?”

“The plan requires some finessing, Ilunor.” Thacea shot back, before revealing the schedule she’d mapped out for us on her notebook. “First of all, we need to rise first thing in the morning, to beat the crowds of students into town such that we may indulge in having first and unmonitored rights on the great many items for purchase from within the ambassadorial and crown-patronage district.”

“Reservations on early rising aside… you make an excellent point, princess.” Ilunor spoke through a toothy grin. “For this will allow us to sample the local delights of Elaseer! Oh how the town provides a veritable cornucopia worth of choices through which the culinarily inclined amongst us may revel in—”

“Of course food is on your mind, even when discussing matters of grave importance.” I muttered out, interrupting the Vunerian with a frustrated sigh.

“Ilunor has a point, Thalmin.” Thacea unexpectedly interjected, prompting the both of us to widen our eyes at her.

“Excuse me?” We both reflexively uttered out at exactly the same time.

“Our journey through the town’s great many delights within the ambassadorial district isn’t merely one of self-indulgence… for it is here where we will acquire the weapons with which the war of words shall be waged. For as much as the processes of commerce may be powered through the power of coin, so too is it accelerated by the rhythms of philanthropy.”

“Gift-giving.” Ilunor surmised with a cock of his head.

“Are you unaccustomed to the practice, Lord Rularia?” The princess shot back.

“Hardly.” The Vunerian replied with an indignant huff. “Though I scarcely see why we would need to entertain commoners with such time-consuming endeavors. They scarcely deserve our attention as is.”

“The… proposition we bring to the table, is one which supersedes what is seen in typical transactions, Ilunor.”

“They should be honored to receive such a command from their betters, princess. I’m honestly surprised you’d stoop to such lows so as to even entertain the concept of gift giving to commoners, let alone announce it as part of our plans.”

“They aren’t your commoners, Ilunor.” I quickly added.

“They are Nexians, farlanders at that, or midlanders at best. But as with all who live in the outlands, they all fall beneath my authority as a member of the Nexian nobility.” The blue thing announced with such confidence and assuredness that it felt as if his words were gospel; a fact that came naturally to his Nexian upbringing.

“Be that as it may, my experiences with nobility and commoners alike have proven that by committing to the act of gift-giving, all transactions become seamless, and all orders become amenable. Complex transactions which would have otherwise been begrudgingly followed through, are carried out with greater ease, whilst simple orders become outright offers on the party being requested. By showing a level of reciprocity and kindness, even if it may be artificial, you establish a relationship of mutualism.” The princess clarified, though this did little to temper the Vunerian’s incessant huffs.

“Difficult or impossible, simple or benign, it makes no difference. The status eternia demands a strict adherence to the established hierarchy of authority.” The Vunerian spoke firmly, and with a level of impetulance that I thought he’d already gotten over.

Though it was clear that this was perhaps more so a growth towards tolerating Emma, rather than a complete reformation of his worldview.

“And yet here you are, conspiring towards defying that authority, partly as a result of having been conspired against and then thrown away like a used rag by said authority.” I doubled down, prompting the Vunerian to suddenly go silent once more, sending him into self-reflection.

“Starlight Sparkling Muffin, and Breathing Bread.” He spoke suddenly. “We should seek out those two desserts first thing in the morning, if you wish to fulfill this frivolous adjacent quest.” He quickly clarified through a seething frustration.

That definitely gave him a wakeup call he needed.

“Thank you for the recommendations, Ilunor.” Thacea offered with a polite smile, noting the items down. “Moreover, we will have to discuss further what exactly a typical Nexian outlander, a privileged commoner at that, might desire; at least in terms of enchanted items exclusive to the crown-patronage district.”

“To touch on the previous point, Ilunor…” I began soon after, taking on a more reserved tone. “As I mentioned before, this isn’t your run of the mill request. We aren’t posting a typical tracker’s quest for a runaway golem or a missing familiar or something innocuous and inane. This is a dragon quest we’re discussing. And from my experiences back home, the most comparable quest being that of a sea-serpent hunt, these sorts of things aren’t to be taken lightly. You may not value the lives of commoners as much as your fellow noblemen… but understand that every individual values their lives as much as you.”

“Which means that for such a high-risk request, comes a scaling difficulty in finding individuals ready to tackle such a quest. Just reaching the negotiating table, let alone the point in which coin becomes relevant, is a task unto itself.” Thacea quickly added.

The Vunerian went silent at this, as it was clear that the clash between Adjacent realm politicking and Nexian expectant authority was now coming to a head.

Ilunor lived in a world where authority was guaranteed, at least, as it pertained to his subordinates.

Thacea, whose afflictions were a constant source of scorn and scrutiny, lived a life wherein her authority was constantly in question as a result.

Ilunor’s authority came passively, whilst Thacea fought to both maintain and execute it.

These two divergent schools of thinking… brought about an equally divergent approach to achieving any given ends.

Ilunor’s school of thought was what brought an end to the previous corrupt regime in Havenbrock.

But given he was Nexian… so long as he didn’t rock the boat, his authority was all but guaranteed.

This was no longer the case however, as the incident with Mal’tory, the library, and other such political quagmires have shown.

So the Vunerian would have to adapt, to live by the example of his ‘lessers’... lest he lose everything to the greater game being played.

He would have to overcome his habits of authority, to at least adopt an adjacent model, of having to work to maintain and execute one’s authority.

Only time would tell if he would be successful at this, however.

And ultimately, his fate would be his own to decide.

“With all that being said, I believe that concludes the first portion of our plan.” Thacea announced.

“The rest of our plans for the adventurers might require more of Emma’s input.” I reasoned.

“Indeed. She still hasn’t decided on just how she intends on dealing with the amethyst dragon.” Thacea responded.

“If it’s anything like her actions thus far… she will more than likely have some sort of an unexpected addition, or an entirely unexpected plan that shatters the norm.” Ilunor offered with a frustrated sigh, just as the door to Emma and Thacea’s door opened, revealing the armored earthrealmer.

“THREE HOURS?!” She practically hollered through her helmet, yet despite the suddenness of that vocalization, there was surprisingly little physical indication as to her panic; the armor blocking the way of most body language cues.

Thacea, bringing up her pocket watch, nodded at Emma’s boisterous proclamations. “Indeed, Emma.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry guys. I was working on a few projects here and there, and kinda just… passed out in the middle of them.” She spoke earnestly, and once again, with that refreshing candidness that reminded me more of a fellow Havenbrockian comrade-in-arms, than any adjacent nobility.

“Given your recent displays in the gymnasium, Emma? I would be surprised if you weren’t showing signs of fatigue one way or another.” I offered with a friendly smile. “In any case, there’s no reason to fret, we’ve just been finalizing some ideas on the current plan of attack.” I gestured towards Thacea’s notebook. “Which leads me to a rather topical question that’s just been raised… exactly what are your plans for the dragon, Emma?”

“Good question! Honestly, I’ve been dwelling on this for a bit now, and I’ve reached a pretty solid conclusion.” She breathed in deeply. “I don’t want to incur any potential outside casualties, at least not for my own operations. The idea of risking someone else’s life, even if we do provide them with a hefty compensation, is something that’s a bit iffy to me. Especially since this is supposed to be my operation. Whilst there are provisions in my mission protocols that grants me some leniency in the contracting of local assets, I’d rather we keep that to non-combat roles, or at least support roles. So, with that being said, that leaves the scout and track mission for the adventurers I guess.”

“That is… a somewhat strange position to take, Emma.” I retorted, cocking my head as I did so. “There is no shame nor dishonor in having others die for your cause, even if those that sign on have joined not for honor but only for coin. For the honor of battle and death are shared equally on the battlefield, so long as you hold true to integrity and your own values.”

“I understand where you’re coming from, Thalmin.” Emma admitted. “But let’s just say I’d rather not test the limits of my mission protocols’ leniency. Moreover, I’d rather not want to cause more fuss for the end-of-the-year auditors back at home when I get back.” She chuckled awkwardly at that statement, before moving on. “It’s not so much about the honor or dishonor thing really, it’s honestly just death itself. I’d rather not cause any undue deaths, at least, if I can help it. That’s of course, in addition to my mission protocols and other trivial legal details of course but I digress. Besides, this is ultimately my mess to deal with, and I’m sure that if a bunch of adventurers can deal with a dragon? I’d have no issue with this oversized lizard.” She quickly added with a confident pose.

“Scouting and tracking… that should make things easier.” Thacea announced with a firm nod, jotting down the details as they came. “So that settles it. Tomorrow, we head first thing to the crown-patronage district, and after purchasing gifts, we will immediately set our sights on the adventurer’s guild hall. Given the nature of Elaseer, we should be able to be assigned at least a wyvern-class adventuring party.”

“I’m assuming that’s… good? Bad? I’m not sure how the ‘ranking’ or classification system works here.” Emma admitted.

“Nexian classification systems for adventurers are rather straightforward.” I promptly answered. “The short of it is that each ‘class’ corresponds to the greatest beast the group has managed to dispatch, thereby acting as a shorthand of their theoretical combat potential.”

“Right.” Emma responded with a nod.

“Ahem…” Came a clearing of the Vunerian’s throat, as he promptly got back to his feet, skittering his way towards Emma. “If this adventuring business is sorted… I believe we have more pressing matters to attend to, Emma Booker.”

“Yup. I was about to get to that. I’m assuming that’s all for the whole adventuring business for now. Right, guys?”

“I believe that’s all we can plan for when it comes to tomorrow’s gambit, Emma.” Thacea acknowledged.

“Good! With that sorted, let’s pay the armorer a visit, Ilunor.”

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Armorer’s Workshop. Local Time: 1630 Hours.

Emma

The plan was simple.

Talk to Sorecar, grab the book, and go.

It was the first part of that plan however, that would prove a bit more involved than I thought.

Because as soon as I’d entered the metal-warping sauna that was the workshop, so too was I met with a series of mirthful guffaws, the man’s deep and boisterous voice giving it an almost Santa-esque vibe.

“Ho-ho-ho! Welcome! Welcome back, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm!” Sorecar announced, his voice resonating from deep within the armor. “And might I say, congratulations on your victories at the encabulator trials! When I’d heard Professor Chiska’s request through the grapevine, I believed I’d finally gone mad! For I can scarcely remember the last time the encabulator was requested! Why… I was utterly struck with a sudden case of gleeful indecision as to what I’d put into the encabulator this time around!”

“So… the whole thing was your design, Professor?” I replied, more or less voluntarily plunging into the smalltalk trap he’d sprung.

“Were you able to tell?” The man questioned confidently, leaning in closer in what I was now seeing as an attempt to overcome the gross limitations of armored life. Something I was becoming acutely accustomed to now.

“Now that I think about it… it certainly seems right up your alley, professor.” I managed out with a chuckle. “I doubt most other professors would have the same plays of… creativity.”

“Oh, I wasn’t really being creative! Merely, I was drawing from what I assume were old memories hidden somewhere deep within the recesses of my old mind!” The man responded, clanking his empty helmet in the process. “I merely took inspiration from what I can only assume was my adventuring years. What memories that remain, that is… But I digress! Let us let bygones be bygones! Let’s just say, I’m grateful I was at least able to be of entertaining service this time around!”

“Well, thank you for setting the whole match up, professor. Aside from a few complications, and the intensity of it all in the heat of the moment, it was honestly quite an entertaining experience.” I offered truthfully, eliciting yet another series of rattles from the man’s armor, as he laughed back with a confident and gleeful bout of joy. “But I’m afraid my visit here isn’t entirely celebratory in nature, professor.” I quickly added, a tinge of guilt coloring my voice, as I genuinely felt bad for consistently dampening the professor’s untempered enthusiasm with my endless calls for aid.

“Oh?” He responded, somehow managing to keep up his energetic spirits despite the sudden turn. “I’m assuming you’re here for some academic purpose, yes?”

“I… guess you could say that, professor.” I managed out sheepishly. “I’m looking for a book, an extracurricular book, if you understand my meaning.” I continued, hoping to sidestep whatever monitoring bugs may exist within the workshop, or even within the man’s own shackled soul.

“Oh! I’m assuming you’re looking for something a bit more hard-hitting than most, yes? Perhaps something along the lines of a series of various recommended reading materials for the studious student?” He responded with what was undoubtedly a smug grin, as I could just about hear the coyness oozing from every decibel of his voice.

My memories, Ilunor’s response, and the EVI’s in-HUD prompting, all more or less picked up on that title. As alarm bells rang through my mind, prompting me to nod without hesitation. “That sounds great, professor!” I responded, prompting Sorecar to conjure up that familiar green book with a snap of his fingers.

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 350% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

“I just so happen to have this little old thing lying around!” He handed me the book, one that I’d only seen from afar from the infildrone’s vantage point. It was jarring to finally see it in person, but I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a sense of relief washing over me as I reached for it.

Ilunor, however, took a few steps back as I did so, his whole body quivering as the book was brought into view.

The Vunerian eyed the book warily as my hand made contact with it, his features contorting as if he expected me to be rendered to dust or something the moment I held the pages in my hand.

“I’m assuming this is the…”

“It’s a work, befitting of my skills as a master forger, Cadet Emma Booker.” The man beamed, more or less using the same verbal cues as the night of that investigation with Larial.

“Right.” I nodded. “And you’re sure this book will be alright to use? I mean, will anyone be able to tell the difference? I honestly would’ve preferred to have my hands on the original—”

“Trust me, Cadet Emma Booker! This book was crafted utilizing every possible skillset I have at my disposal, and every tool and material I have available to me! It’s perfect by every metric, and I’m certain that regardless of who needs it next, it will be indistinguishable, and good to use in any context that may require the original!” The man reassured me with a massive pat on my back. One that would’ve sent me lurching forwards if it weren’t for the armor.

“Alright, professor.” I nodded, his words instilling within me a sense of confidence that managed to silence even the greatest of doubts welling within me. “I’ll take your word for it.”

The Library. Local Time: 1655

Emma

“This is truly a work of master forgery, Cadet Emma Booker. Tell me, whose aid did you request to create such an impeccable work of fabrication?” The owl glowered, his talons sinking into the leather of the book, yet somehow refusing to incur any damage onto it.

“A master forger, I’d imagine.” I replied with a frustrated sigh, all of my doubts crashing back down onto me with the force of a kinetic kill strike.

The owl took a moment to meet my gaze, as we stared at one another for the longest time. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you were attempting to shirk your duties, or worse… cheat the library out of your own aims. However—” The owl paused, taking a moment to readjust his little hat. “—you are a creature of candor, Cadet Emma Booker. That much is clear to me. The library, thus, does not take offense to the submission of this forgery. However, we expect that the genuine article will be submitted to complete your seekership quest.”

“Hold on just a minute, librarian.” I countered. “Forgery as it may be, it’s still a one-to-one copy of the original. I even have footage of it being recovered from Mal’tory’s office.”

“Yes, the mana-less memory shards you’ve momentarily revealed to us earlier. The library finds these pieces of evidence to be… compelling, but not to its liking. Moreover, it wishes for the original copy of this book in order to verify its signature and residue. The former, being an attribute which would allow us to ascertain the original creator of the notebook, and the latter, being a distinct trace of the spells once bound to it. Because remember, Cadet Emma Booker, the claim you set forth is that the notebook was a conduit through which the spells of binding were forced onto your Vunerian peer. If that is the case, the original should still have these traces somewhere within its pages. The forgery… does not have any of this. Thus, the library requests that you return with the original.”

“Right.” I responded with a winded breath. “Okay then… I guess I have one final question for you.”

“Go on?”

“Will it be alright with you if I just loaned you the original copy?”

The librarian paused to ponder the request, his eyes narrowing.

“And why do you wish to add this caveat, Cadet Emma Booker?”

“Because… there’s a lot of complicated political back and forths right now outside of the library, and this notebook is currently caught in the middle of the crossfire. Someone who’s… a tentative ally, in a manner of speaking, really needs this notebook right now. It’s going to be tough getting this book from them as it stands, but if it’s permanently out of their hands, well…” I paused, wracking my head around Larial’s current situation. “... it certainly won’t end up well for them. Which is something I’d rather avoid.”

The librarian pondered this for a few more seconds, turning up towards the ceiling of the library, which once again warped into a display of nonsensical shapes and colors.

“The library is… amenable to this unusual request, Cadet Emma Booker. However, there is one thing you must understand — it will not be as tolerant for further amendments to our agreements.”

“Understood, librarian.” I nodded, bowing slightly to show my appreciation. “Thank you.”

“Now, off you go then. And do not forget to return by the end of the week as per our contractual obligations… your Vunerian friend seems to be growing greener around the gills by the day.”

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Armorer’s Workshop. Local Time: 1740 Hours.

Emma

“That feather-brained dolt said WHAT?!” Sorecar shot back with an incredulous shout, one that resonated throughout the entirety of the workshop, causing suits of armor to rattle, and weapons to fall off of their fixtures.

“Erm, word for word, professor? He said—”

“You needn’t repeat yourself, Emma Booker.” The armorer writhed and seethed, twisting and turning in place. “How dare he. How dare he insult the work of Sorecar the Master Forger!”

“I think you should perhaps rethink that title, professor.” I responded with a candid sigh, as we both found ourselves sitting on one of the few benches in the room.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need the original, professor.” I stated earnestly.

“And I’m afraid you will find it quite impossible to acquire, Emma Booker.” The man responded candidly.

“I don’t need it like, permanently, professor. The librarian and I have reached… a mutual understanding. I only need it temporarily, for him to look over. So all I need to do is to just borrow the original. Surely that’s possible, right?”

A moment of silence descended on us, as Sorecar placed his helmet between both of his hands.

“That makes things easier, but that still doesn’t make the task easy, Emma Booker. The apprentice’s responsibilities have made it such that reaching her and by extension, the original copy, is a task that might not be possible within the week. However, difficulties in scheduling aside, I suppose that caveat has turned this from an impossible mission, to something merely improbable.”

“That’s good enough for me, professor. My existence here is already impossible to most… so what’s a bit of improbable operations to be thrown into the mix? So… with that being said, do you happen to have the apprentice’s schedule on hand?”