Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (72/?) (Patreon)

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

Those three, distinct, hammer-like noises sent chills down my spine.

I didn’t know what it was.

But over the course of the week, I’ve come to increasingly dread these unexpected, unannounced, completely unscheduled interruptions to the only safe haven we’ve been able to carve out of this hostile world.

Maybe it was because there was never any way of telling what you could expect on the other side.

Or maybe, it was just because half of the time, those knocks always acted as a prelude to another curveball that needed to be addressed; an unexpected problem that needed to be resolved.

Whatever the case was, I began sprinting into action the second those knocks ended.

“Ilunor.” I began, prompting the Vunerian to nod affirmatively in acknowledgement. “I need you to perform one of your tricks. Can you cast that invisibility field around the whole setup again?”

A brief mana radiation warning marked his response, as for the first time, he actually committed to responding with his actions first, and words later. “A trivial task.” He added cockily, that smug grin somehow managing to expertly hide the growing nervousness stirring beneath the surface.

Sure enough, a brief glance towards the balcony yielded nothing. No drones, no signal amplifier, not even the cable that ran along the floors to power the whole setup.

I turned to Ilunor with a begrudging look of appreciation. “Good job Iunor.”

Following that up with a silent closure of the balcony doors and a drawing of the curtains made all our problems disappear, at least for now.

“Alright.” I hyped myself up, taking those tentative steps towards the door… but not before turning to Ilunor one final time. “Just act natural.” I ordered.

“Oh please, Emma Booker. I practically live for these acts of theater.” He responded. And… true to his word, I could barely detect a hint of fear or concern beneath that thick layer of pomp and circumstance.

If this whole letter mission went up in smoke, and you lost your noble titles, I swear you could make a good enough living working at whatever your equivalent of broadway is. I thought to myself, just as my hand reached for the door, gripping its ornate door handle. With a solid inhale, and a sharp satisfying ka-clink, I opened the door to reveal…

Not Vanavan.

Or any other professor.

Not even Larial.

But a face that I otherwise immediately recognized.

And one that looked none too pleased to see our group.

It was that eccentric elf bridge-guard from a few nights before.

“OH!” The bridge-guard apprentice announced. “It's you lot.” He immediately turned his nose up, his eyes averting from my lenses.

“May I help you…” I trailed off, realizing the EVI hadn’t flashed a nametag next to him. This mere momentary lapse in conversation seemed to be all the incentive the man needed to fill in the blanks, all the while maintaining that frustrated look of annoyance that continued to dominate his expression.

“Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second!” He announced proudly, balling up both of his hands before placing them by his hips in a heroic pose, causing his cloak to unfurl and swoosh out to his sides.

A swift surge of mana radiation caused a gust of wind to flutter it about in the otherwise windless corridor.

“Right.” I nodded. “Apologies Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Anisonzia the Second.”

“Apologies noted and accounted for, you cantankerous creature.” He responded with a small look of smug satisfaction on his face.

That response… strangely enough, didn’t necessarily bother me. Because the man, for all his boisterous bluster, just felt like a big joke about half the time he spoke.

Though that still didn’t stop me from taking him as a legitimate threat, given his assigned position and responsibilities.

“So, how may I help you?”

“That depends…” The man paused, manifesting a previously unseen clipboard to the ping of another mana radiation warning, as he began flipping through its otherwise blank pages. “... Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm now is it?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Well, Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm. I am here, first and foremost, to execute my duties as an apprentice and a ward of this tower; to administer a wellness check.”

“Oh, I’m quite alright, thanks for asking-”

“No! Not for your sake you insolent suit of animated armor! But for the sake of your fellows.” He gestured to his left and right, at the hallways and the stairs that led down from the top floor of the tower. “I have received reports of an active and deliberate disruption to the general peace. Tell me Cadet Emma Booker of Earthrealm, have you or have you not-” The man paused, looking left and right haphazardly and frantically, before leaning in closely, practically an inch from my face.

My heart skipped a beat, as I was about ready to have my entire operations unraveled right before my eyes.

“-observed anything over the course of your night through your windows? Any… ghostly premonitions of an invisible avian predator? Any near-silent whooshing and buzzing followed closely by a disembodied arm chasing about poor defenseless birds?”

The man’s questions… wasn’t what I was expecting at all.

Moreover, it instantly gave me the wiggle room I needed to take a page out of Ilunor’s playbook.

Bold-faced lying.

“No.” I answered bluntly, before just as quickly gesturing into the room. “In fact, we were just having a nice evening together…” I began trailing off, just as my rear view cameras began revealing what amounted to the theater Ilunor had prepared.

For in the middle of the living room, in plain sight to anyone by the door, was a Vunerian currently downing an entire trolley cart’s worth of food. A sight-seer was splayed out in front of him, currently on pause with the image of some dragon caught flying mid-frame.

As if on cue, he craned his head towards me with a cupcake in hand, his eyes narrowing on the apprentice knowingly as he slowly pushed the tasty morsel into his maw in a menacing fashion, before turning back towards the sight-seer leisurely; playing the part of a couch potato.

“... watching sight-seers. The only flying shenanigans we were experiencing was a sight from Lord Rularia’s sight-seer!” I finally continued, prompting the apprentice’s eyes to narrow even further, until finally, he relented. His features soon shifted to something less intense. If only for a moment.

“Hmm… Well that’s all well and good then! Not within my duties or noble prerogatives to barge into the personal affairs of fellow nobility of the Nexian variety; at least not without further probable cause. Besides, I haven’t the time given my other tasks!” The man spoke once more in that sing-song jovial persona, before suddenly and abruptly shifting to a menacing overture. “Of course, that’s assuming you have nothing else to add?”

“No, sir.”

“Hmm.” He huffed out, his face coming forward to rest an inch from my helmet once more. An impressive feat accomplished through some levitation spell. A few more seconds passed, before his abrupt ‘staredown’ ended, his persona finally shifting back to a less antagonistic, yet equally intense loud ‘normal’. “Well that’s alright then! Consider my first duty accomplished.”

“First?” I questioned with a cock of my head.

And was promptly answered by a sealed envelope smacking me with feeble - thwack! - against my helmet. “Here’s the second!”

Following that abrupt gesture, the man pulled back into the hallway proper, hands placed firmly behind him. “Consider my duties as this tower’s caretaker, completed! With that, I bid you, and your merry band of miscreants, adieu!”

And just like that, he started storming off, hrrmmph-ing as he did so.

I receded back into the room after that with a relieved sigh.

Only for a burning question to suddenly manifest itself upon a momentary realization.

“Wait!” I shouted out, stomping out into the hall before he could reach the next room.

“Hmm? What is it now, you avid bridge-crossing, library-visiting, card-holding, rapscallion?”

“I’m sorry to bother you Apprentice, especially after…” I paused, my eyes inadvertently landing and fixating on those bags under his eyes. “... your late night shift.”

“Oh don’t trivialize my duty-bound trials of adversity. Just get on with it, Cadet!”

“Well, you said you were this tower’s caretaker.”

“Well yes. What of it then?”

“I thought Apprentice Larial was this tower’s assigned apprentice.”

“Ah! The fair Larial! Her duties have now been temporarily bestowed unto me. The baton has been passed, the light has been bequeathed, the torch given to me so that I may now march up and down the stairs!”

I stared blankly at the man. The scene before me not really registering as reality, but moreso, a flashback back to the bridge and terrace and our constant back and forth crossings to the library just a few days prior.

This momentary lapse in communication was enough to once again rile the man up, as he stepped towards me, grabbing hold of what looked to be an officer’s baton, before bonking me on the head once.

THONK!

“Ow.” I announced without any emotive resonance. “What was that for?”

“Do not WASTE MY TIME, Cadet! Now out with it!”

“Right… so, I was wondering, what happened?”

The apprentice took a moment to lean in close to me once again. Levitating a good foot in the air, as he once more came uncomfortably close to my face. “She’s been… reassigned, Cadet Emma Booker. What her fate is, I do not know.” He spoke menacingly, or as menacingly as he could before shifting gears back into that sing-song persona. “But what I do know, is that I must go!” He turned around, his back facing me. “Ta! Ta! For I have more letters to deliver, and more rooms to question!”

I watched him blankly as he knocked hard on Etholin’s door. The small ferret opened it to the resounding yell of a deranged apprentice. “GOOD EVENING!”

“G-good evening. W-who-”

“Urgent delivery my good sir! Straight from the fine auspices of the Dean himself!” The man conjured out a letter out of thin air, his straight, taut, almost unnaturally stiff arm swiveled to hand the letter off to the confused and petrified ferret who stood there now in a mix of fear and confusion.

“T-thank you, apprentice.” He warily accepted the letter that was barely a quarter of an inch away from his face.

“Very well then! Strange weather we’re having, no? Inexplicable thunder with no signs of rain! Now, I must ask! Have you seen anything peculiar through your windows this fine evening?!”

With a few more minutes of confused back and forths, the apprentice eventually left. This allowed the ferret to finally breathe a sigh of relief, only to hitch up his breath again upon making eye contact with me, causing him to slowly recede back into his room.

With that whole… episode over and done with, I reentered the dorm with a tired breath.

I’d barely noticed Ilunor scampering over by my side, his grabby claws reaching for the letter currently held firmly in my hands.

With a little effort on his end, manifesting as a little - egh! - he eventually got his wish, gripping the letter from my loosened grip as he began tearing at its seams.

Following that, his eyes began devouring the contents of the letter… or what little there was written on it anyways.

“Yet another letter addressed to all first years, about a major announcement to be had in tomorrow morning’s breakfast. Compulsory, if you were wondering.” Ilunor spoke, surprisingly succinctly.

“Right. Another mystery thing.” I spoke through a tired breath.

“I highly doubt this is of any significance, Emma.” Ilunor replied confidently. “School announcements are a regular occurrence, this more than likely will be a discussion on some school event or a followup on the preparations for the choosing ceremony or whatnot.” He shrugged. “But in any case, I believe we can call this… surprisingly eventful evening… accomplished.”

He began scampering back towards the couch, grabbing a sizable plate of food from a trolley that I immediately recognized. “Wait, isn’t that my lunch trolley?”

“Oh.” Ilunor spoke, glancing back at the trolley before turning back to me. “I suppose it is.”

I sighed, placing a palm against my face as I saw about three quarters of the foodstuffs for the MREDD experiments going up in flames inside of the Vunerian’s gullet.

“Did you care for some?” He asked innocently, offering his plate of confections up as high as he could, reaching about halfway up to my waist.

“No, it’s fine. I guess I’ll try again tomorrow.” I managed out with a sigh, prompting the Vunerian to cock his head curiously before he simply shrugged and left for his room, chomping down on cupcakes all the while.

“Make certain you rise in time for breakfast, Emma Booker.” He spoke, just as he shut the door to his room with a solid THWACK! Prompting a series of barks to erupt from within its confines.

An argument no doubt ensued within the boys’ room.

Something that I thought I was immune to until I opened my door to reveal a fully robed avinor waiting for me on the couch.

“I assume you’ve had an interesting night, Emma?”

I couldn’t help but to immediately feel like I was thrust into that one and only night I arrived late after sneaking out past curfew from Aunty Ran’s apartment. The first time I’d attempted it, and also the last time I’d ever even think of doing so.

This prompted me to instinctively reach for the nape of my neck in a display of abashedness again, as I let out a series of appropriately nervous laughs. “I guess you could say that.”

Thacea sighed inwardly, gesturing towards the couch opposite of me, as a good long discussion soon followed.

=====

Dragon Heart’s Tower. En Route to the Grand Dining Hall. Local Time: 0710.

Last night’s conversation didn’t last for too long.

More than that, it wasn’t a verbal smack-down anywhere near the T-SEC approved lecturing that Aunty Ran would’ve typically dished out.

No, it was more or less a firm yet kind approach that seemed to come to the avinor naturally.

“You need to stop taking unnecessary risks.” Was as far as she went in the firm department.

“And not just for the sake of the peer group or my own sake, but for your own, Emma.” Was just about how far she went in the kind department.

The conversation eventually gave way to my full explanation, and Thacea’s tentative understanding about the whole Ilunor letter situation.

Yet despite that, there was an understated sense of worry that persisted within the avian’s eyes. A worry that, thankfully, seemed to subside somewhat as we made our way towards the grand dining hall in new spirits and refreshed staminas.

Sleep had, at the very least, done its job in getting all of us ready for whatever was in store for this compulsory breakfast announcement.

An announcement that seemed to at least have the courtesy to wait until everyone had what they actually came here for - food.

“Whatever the head chef’s daily recommendation is, and double it.” Thalmin began with his usual insatiable drive for food.

“Something as crisp as the morning dew.” Thacea once more spoke in what I had to imagine was a personal game to become more cryptic for no apparent reason.

“A platter.” Ilunor soon added. “And make it snappy.” He even went so far as to shoo the man away.

Eventually, it was my turn, and predictably I ordered everything to-go. “The usual please. I want a full sampler spread sent to my dorm.”

With a final deep bow, and a scurrying sprint back towards the kitchen, the same elf waiter who’d been waiting us since day one quickly scurried back towards the kitchen with an urgent sprint.

It seemed as if the stage was quickly being set for whatever it was the faculty had planned.

As only after the room was cleared of all waiters, did the Dean finally rise, prompting the whole room to go silent as Qiv took it upon himself to once more shush everyone into attention.

“A good and gracious morning to you all, first-years.” The man began, in that same warm and wise persona that had remained his go-to over every single public appearance. “Several matters have come to my attention that have necessitated the call of gathering. Matters which by themselves would necessitate nary a letter and a cryer, but when taken together, requires that time to be taken to address each item as a greater whole. Now without further ado, onto the matters at hand…” The man paused, gesturing towards Chiska who stood up from her seat, her hands clasped firmly behind her back.

“The Academy is nothing if not tolerant of the personal and private endeavors of its constituents. The spirit of adventure, the call to action, and the drive for passion, are all cornerstones of what makes the quintessential mage after all.” The orange and white speckled cat started off with that same tone of excitement and vigor she always seemed to carry with her. “However-” She raised a single finger, that excitement quickly shifting from a positive to more of a cautious light. “-recent matters have come to my attention that unnecessarily pushes this tolerance beyond the unspoken rules that govern its existence. Now, I am not pointing any fingers, nor am I accusing any of you first-years for what is ostensibly an enterprise exclusive to the upper yearsmen. But given many of you demonstrate skills and abilities beyond that of what may be considered typical for a first-year, I think something needs to be said, just in case. Now, many of you may already know about the students’ guilds: what are ostensibly student-run organizations for the gathering of like-minded peers across year groups, class houses, and peer groups. It is one of these guilds that is the topic of today’s announcement. The Skylord’s Respite; a group dedicated to experiencing the joys of flight, through artifices, through pure magic, and through the tentatively sanctioned transient inhabitation. It is this latter activity that is under scrutiny following the misadventures of the previous night. As several members have reported their familiars being violently assaulted and then released with no apparent rhyme or reason. This has caused a great deal of disruption within the organization, and a fair bit of drama which… whilst I myself do quite enjoy-” The cat grinned mischievously. “-is something that for the sake of my students I very much wish to be kept to a minimum. As a result, I must warn you first-years: the skies may be open, but their freedom has its limits. Exercise your due diligence. Maintain a healthy degree of mutual respect. And just… please don’t assault birds. That’s all I’m asking, thank you.”

Following a nod from the dean, Chiska soon took her seat.

However, just before the man could start up again, the cat suddenly rose once more; garnering the dean’s ire through an intense glare, but otherwise was allowed to say her piece.

“Just another quick thing. Any and all rumors of a quote illegal bird racing organization within the Skylord’s Respite is pure hearsay. And I, as the current head of the Students’ Extracurricular Self-Directed Organizations, shall not stand for such slander.” The cat paused, before turning to the dean with a deep bow. “My humblest apologies for the interruption, your excellency.”

With a nod from the dean, Chiska once more took her seat, as the man continued where he left off.

“The next matter is one that will no doubt impact your current schedule. As Professor Vanavan has already informed you of yesterday, each day of the week is reserved for a single professor’s class. First days are Professor Vanavan, second days are Professor Mal’tory, third days are Professor Articord, fourth days are Professor Belnor, and the fifth and final weekday is Professor Chiska. Barring unforeseen circumstances, this schedule is rigid and unmoving. However, given recent internal events, it has been decided that Professor Mal’tory’s classes shall be temporarily swapped with professor Articord’s, if only for this first week. Let it be known however, that I will not tolerate any speculation as to the reason behind this decision, for that is an exclusive faculty matter; and one that I expect you to respect unquestioningly.” That latter statement was spoken with a severity that I’d yet to see him use in public. One that receded just as quickly, but was pointedly firm and unyielding.

In spite of that though, many eyes now landed on the conspicuously empty seat belonging to the titular black-robed professor in question.

As even Larial, nor any other apprentice for that matter, was there to fill that vacant seat.

Following this, the dean quickly gestured for the fox-like Articord to take her stand, the stuffy fox that reminded me of a mirror universe Buddy stared at the gathered collection of first-years with disappointed eyes. “I do not have much to say.” She began tersely. “Only that I expect all of you to be seated by 9am sharp, and not a second later. My doors will remain closed to any of those who do not arrive within that time. Whilst my class does not carry with it the glitz or glamor of magic or the whimsical and lofty flightiness of magical theory, it is weighted equally towards your final passing grade. I find this change in pace and ambiance necessary, given that there needs to be someone here to weigh down the otherwise lofty aspirations of bloated manafields and spirits. With that being said, enjoy your breakfasts, but not too much. A heavy belly weighs poorly on an active mind, and I will not tolerate any day-sleepers in my class. That is all.”

With a rushed bow from the fox, the Dean promptly turned to us again, as that warm smile clashed with the perpetual grumpiness of Articord the anti-Buddy.

“On a final note, I wish to dispel and clarify concerns with regards to this week’s rather… unconventional seating arrangements. To facilitate the quick and prompt start to classes, all classes shall henceforth carry-over the seating arrangements agreed upon within Professor Vanavan’s class. With that final matter addressed, I call this morning assembly to a close.” The Dean announced, prompting the awaiting waiters to return with cartfulls of food.

As the food began arriving in droves, I couldn’t help but to reflect on the quickly-overlooked main focus of this whole assembly.

The delay of Mal’tory’s classes.

The thought of his classes just somehow… never crossed my mind up to this point. Sure, I knew they were coming up. And yes, I understood that us crossing paths again was inevitable.

But somehow, I’d just managed to block those thoughts out.

Maybe it was because of the sheer glut of things I had to worry about.

Maybe it was the report-writing, and side-questing.

Or maybe, a part of me just didn’t want to think about it.

Whatever the case was, the sudden reminder felt like a punch to the gut. In the same way that procrastinated report sneaks its way back into the forefront of your mind, I was now stuck with yet another countdown timer that made time even more of an enemy than it already was.

There were more things to worry about right now, sure.

But the fact of the matter was… I didn’t know what to expect from the return of Mal’tory.

At the very least however, I had until tomorrow to face that great unknown.

=====

The Grand Concourse of Learning. His Majesty’s Hall. Local Time: 0855.

Emma

Entering the space, the similarities to Vanavan’s lecture hall were pretty obvious from the get-go. From the arrangement of the desks, to the auditorium-style floor plan consisting of staggered ‘rows’ that increased in height from the row closest to the board, to the ones at the very back nearest to the entrance, the entire room was just about identical in layout.

But that’s where the similarities ended.

Because despite the identical layout, the actual design of the room couldn’t have been any more different; as Instead of uniformity, there was instead a celebration of eclectic diversity.

From the make and designs of the desks that ranged from wood to iron to brick and masonry, to the floors which shifted from sandstone to wood to copper and riveted steel, every row of every level of this lecture hall was designed with an emphasis on incorporating what was possibly every design philosophy known in existence. It seemed gimmicky at first glance. In fact, there was no other way to describe it except for gimmicky. However, upon closer inspection, despite everything working against it, it somehow managed to pull it off; in the same way a museum could pull off displaying exhibits from different eras within the same room.

Because just like any good museum or unconventional design, the trick was to truly go all-in.

And this room really did go all-in, if the massive windows leading to the outside were anything to go by.

As instead of the straight floor to ceiling windows of Vanavan’s classroom, the windows here consisted of hundreds of smaller designs, each of them pulling from some unique architecture, and each of them way too small and disproportionate to the wall they were embedded into. However, it was that disproportionate size ratio that gave them an unconventional look that somehow made the whole eclectic collection work. As each and every window looked more like picture frames, framing the landscape outside in the architectural style of what seemed to be a hundred different cultures.

It was… grand, in its own way.

Grand by the sheer wealth in diversity, and not wealth through material displays of it.

But the differences didn’t end there.

Because unlike with Vanavan’s class, where chatter and gossip had time to take root in the lull period between entering class and the start of class proper, that lull never even had time to manifest itself in any meaningful way.

As the moment everyone took to their seats, the door behind the lectern swung open with a loud and satisfying smack!

That alone was enough to get everyone’s attention, prompting Qiv to initiate the greeting ritual, and for the whole class to follow suit.

Articord stood as firm as a rock throughout all of this. As despite the weariness of her eyes and the tiredness that she exuded, everything else about her just screamed determination above all else.

The fox refused to speak following that, merely glancing over towards a clock that ticked ever closer towards 9am behind her.

The moment it did however, the doors in front and behind us suddenly bolted shut with a surge of mana radiation.

Then, and only then, did she finally speak.

“Right then. Nexus History and Politics. We have a timeless history to cover within a finite amount of time, so let’s not waste any of it. I trust that you will all behave as adults, and I trust that I can treat you all as equals in scholarship. Class preamble: this is an entirely lecture-driven class with an expectation of excellence to be reciprocated in internal assessments, examinations, as well as group projects and presentations. The details of which are in your syllabus. Rumors of field trips to the Crownlands or Adjacent Realms, fallen or otherwise, are to be treated as rumors until confirmed otherwise. I will be the judge of whether such frivolities will be necessary for your year group. With that, the preamble is now over, and we can begin.”

The man managed to do in a few minutes what Vanavan needed an entire hour to do.

I couldn’t help but to be impressed.

“Now, Nexian History and Politics. Where shall we start, hmm?”

Qiv raised his hand, gaining Articord’s attention.

“From the beginning, ma’am?”

“From the beginning.” The fox chided with a small chuckle and a dismissive tone of voice. “Very well then.”