Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (78/?) (Patreon)

Author's Note: Quick notice to everyone! Somehow the first copy of the post didn't include the last two lines of the chapter. I just noticed this and I quickly added them just now, I apologize for not catching that at first!

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 00:10 Hours.

Ilunor

Anger was not an unknown color to the lupinor’s palette of expressions. 

In fact, most of what I’d known of the man had been a mix of anger, frustration, with a healthy dose of aggression mixed in when the odd shouting match erupted.

Yet despite that, never had I known what true anger looked like until now.

Never once was I privy to this particular side of the lupinor. 

And perhaps, it should have stayed that way. Not for my own sakes, but for the sake of the man I’d hazard to call an acquaintance in any other instance, but in the wake of recent events… had become something of a necessary ally within exterminating circumstances.

“Thalmin?” I spoke softly, taking a few tentative steps towards the man who sat there, dazed and gazing blankly against the other side of the wall. “Is there something you wish to speak about?” 

“Now’s not the best time for your nightly stories, Ilunor.” The man grumbled back, his tone carrying with it that same timbre of annoyance, but hiding beneath it a heavy and palpable burden.

“No, no. I wasn’t about to regale you with another one of my many tales.” I stood there proudly, if only to uphold that facade that if it were to fall, would’ve caused me a great degree of personal abashedness. 

I didn’t want to admit what I was doing.

Because it felt… abnormal, almost alien, to offer up genuine empathy that wasn’t merely empty platitudes or a rehearsed and well choreographed speech.

It felt like I was offering as much of myself up, as the lupinor was.

And I didn’t like that feeling.

Yet despite that, something within me urged me to continue.

“So what is it then? Go on, and stop beating around the bush.” The lupinor urged with another growl, an act that felt more defensive than typical posturing compared to our usual banter.

“I… merely wished to inquire as to your well being.” I finally managed those words out, all but allowing them to emerge with any degree of the associated expectant decorum. 

This finally seemed to garner some form of a response within the lupinor, as he raised a brow at me quizzically, as if second-guessing exactly what he was hearing. 

“Did Emma put you up to this?” He asked sternly. “Because if she did, then tell her I appreciate her trying to tame your noble smugness, but that I don’t need anyone to dig into my battles.”

“I find it somewhat telling that you would even consider Emma as being the impetus behind this earnest intent to express my…” I paused, taking a moment to cycle through my breaths. “... genuine concerns. I am just as capable of empathy, despite any allusions to the contrary.” 

That response didn’t seem to make a dent on the lupinor’s otherwise stalwart and monolithic posture. 

A stare down quickly ensued, if only for a few moments, as his otherwise expressionless face and unyielding gaze soon finally cracked, if only slightly, with a well timed sigh. “I am fine, Ilunor. I just simply need a moment to recollect my thoughts.” A pause soon followed, but not enough that it granted me the ability to respond just yet. “I assume you haven’t been on the precipice of death before, have you?” He added, almost out of nowhere, baffling me with exactly where this conversation could be headed. 

“If you count the curse placed upon me by Mal’tory and the near-death experience there, then yes. Yes I have been on the precipice of death before, Prince Thalmin.” I replied a-matter-of-factly.

“That’s… allow me to rephrase.” The lupinor responded, shifting his entire body, bearing his gaze down on me. “Prior to Mal’tory. Have you or have you not been on the verge of death? Have you known with nearly absolute certainty that the breaths you’re currently taking could be your last? That the thoughts currently running through your mind, may end as abruptly the cessation of a yantor’s croak? That your legacy, following that one moment in time, was to end with your entire life summed up by your actions up to that point?”

I felt a genuine pang of nausea taking over, as my heart sank, and my whole body shivered in place.

“Perhaps not… perhaps, the incident with Mal’tory, was the closest I have truly been as you described, Thalmin.” I acknowledged slowly.

“Then allow me to give you some advice, Ilunor.” The lupinor somehow began shifting the momentum of the conversation towards me instead. As he wrestled the reins of this particular subject matter with a surprising degree of deftness and ease. “The sorts of emotions we feel following such events… they do not get better, at least not immediately. Over time, and given enough distractions, they will. Especially in the midst of those who have experienced similar trials and survived to tell the tale. What I am experiencing, and what you are no doubt also experiencing, will subside. That’s all there is to it.” He paused for a moment, getting up from his seat, striding effortlessly towards the bathroom. 

“I… I do not see how this relevant to-”

“The only reason you’re approaching me, and addressing this subject matter right now is because you’re finally feeling something other than your typical daily drives to ceaselessly vapid talking points. Am I wrong?” Thalmin spoke bluntly, more or less seeing through my facade, or lack thereof at this point. 

“You’re wrong on that latter point, Thalmin.” I shot back indignantly.

“And the former?” He inquired with a quirk of his brow.

I elected to answer that only with silence. 

“I’m only advising you out of practicality, Ilunor.” The lupinor finally filled in the silence with a sigh. “I would rather have you be productive, and a contributing member of this group, which means addressing certain obstacles I foresee before they inevitably inflict chronic harm on you, and thus, the rest of the group. With that, I bid you goodnight.” 

With a soft clack of the door, I was once more left alone with my thoughts. 

As I began to question just why I’d even felt that urge to address Thalmin in the first place.

And whether or not… it was truly a result of that rare sense of empathy, through not just shared experiences, but shared adversity. 

In a way, this was perhaps the first time I truly connected with the man on any level. As macabre as it might seem, this most visceral of similar experiences served to bridge a gap that I never once thought would need bridging.

And I didn’t know what to, or how to, feel about that. 

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Emma and Thacea’s Quarters. Local Time: 00:20 Hours.

Emma

Despite the constant distractions, and despite having disengaged from the outside world entirely… I couldn’t help but to feel stuck in the perpetual, insidious, cycle of anxious thought. 

“It’s not possible, right?” I began, my heart thumping beneath my chest, and my expression stuck in a perpetual state of worry. “Like, he couldn’t have made it. Thacea, I’ve mentioned to you time and time again how he got hit point-blank with that explosion. An explosion that, mind you, blew up an entire warehouse! An explosion that literally caused the deaths of everyone else, even other magic users, and blew up a magical carriage for crying out loud!” I paused, sitting down on the fold-out chair and burying my face deep within both of my palms. “He even got hit with a dragon’s tail. A fricking dragon’s tail, Thacea. I… I showed you the footage, didn’t I?” 

“Indeed you have, Emma.” Thacea acknowledged, her voice crystal clear, despite the tent’s lining; all thanks to the active-audio speakers strategically embedded into the tent itself. “And indeed, if it were perhaps anyone lesser, I could easily see death as an assurance. However-” The princess paused, shifting her chair closer towards the tent. “-the position of a black robe isn’t garnered through political acumen alone. There is a certain prerequisite of magical competence, one which is vetted through the privy council, and at times achieved through a challenge of magical supremacy. Whilst not truly living up to their title of planar mage, given how the bar to entry for such a title has been diluted over the years, the black robe position is still very much one that carries with it a truly staggering prerequisite of both magical potential and magical acumen. It stands to reason then, Emma, that Lord Lartia is leagues beneath Professor Mal’tory. His death through your device during the warehouse incident was certainly assured. But Professor Mal’tory? It’s certainly possible, especially with the aid of the Academy’s healers, that there could be a chance for recovery. Though, it remains to be seen just what kind of a state he returns in.”

That latter statement was one that caught my attention the most, prompting me to zero in on it. “You mean, like… he could come back as a brain-in-a-jar or something?” 

Silence was my only answer for a few seconds, as I could only imagine Thacea’s expressions of shock and perhaps utter confusion on the other side of the tent.

“That… is a modality of living that is abhorrent and borderline taboo, Emma. This is especially true when there are a plethora of other life-extension or soul-preservation options available.” Thacea reasoned, before shifting gears somewhat. “Is… is that a common practice in your realm?”

“No, no. It’s… I mean… I was just spitballing ideas. I guess what I meant to ask was this — exactly what sort of state is he going to return in? Are we talking about Sorecar’s soulbound suit of armor? Or are we talking about a complete magical recovery like with the Apprentice and her crush injuries?” I offered, prompting Thacea to quickly move on after that point. 

“I am unsure, Emma.” The princess acknowledged with a heavy breath. “The extent of his injuries remain difficult to ascertain given the lack of manastreams in your manaless records. But regardless of the extent of said injuries, I am certain that his return will not be one of a spell-bound husk. With all due respect to Professor Sorecar and his current disposition, it is unlikely, barring some political maneuver within the privy council, that a spell-bound be allowed to maintain their black-robe position. Thus, considering there has been no news of Professor Mal’tory’s untimely resignation, I believe the answer may prove to be closer to a recovery of the body and soul.” 

That response prompted me to once again let out a long and drawn out sigh. Exhaustion threatened to consume me, if not for the sharp pang of stress, anxiety, and utter apprehension that prevented me from thinking straight. 

“Emma.” Thacea continued, her tone softer, and more personable now; as if switching gears upon realizing just what sort of a state I now found myself in. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I am certain that there is nothing to fear from Professor Mal’tory’s class. I doubt any harm will come to you, or anyone else in the group for that matter, so long as we play our part and carry on our duties.”

Those words… quelled some of my concerns. Though not really. 

It wasn’t like I was afraid of the class or what could happen.

If anything, I was confident in the armor’s ability to deal with him if push comes to shove.

Moreover, if anything were to happen, I was quicker on the draw than the man was able to restrain me.

Especially with the two weapons he’s yet to see.

No, the concern wasn’t with any solid overt threats.

It was with the unknown.

Of exactly what would go down tomorrow, given there was a high likelihood he’d be back in the flesh.

I all but flopped to the ground as a result of all of these thoughts assaulting me at once, generating a solid thunk in the process, that was probably far less dramatic than what it would’ve otherwise sounded like if I were in full armor.

“Emma?” Thacea offered once more, her tone of voice now growing increasingly anxious. “Are you… quite alright in there?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.” I offered, simply taking a moment to just lay there, staring blankly at the canvas-like roofing above me with HUD-less eyes, and data-less vision. Offline mode was sometimes as jarring as it was necessary, especially after way too much time in the suit. “I’m just laying down.” I added lazily. 

A part of me wanted to grab my tablet, or my glasses, just to see Thacea’s facial features throughout the conversation. 

The optical sensors and cameras lining the exterior of the tent gave me and the EVI a complete and unimpeded view of the world outside the tent after all.

But I just couldn’t.

“So… about Thalmin.” I began, shifting away at least slightly from the Mal’tory situation. “I don’t suppose we can, like, report this to some higher authority or a disciplinary board or something? Like, I’m guessing this could be the same issue with Ilunor when he was under Mal’tory’s employment right?”

“Indeed.” Thacea acknowledged. “The disciplinary board is, even in typical circumstances, yet another tool in the grander game. It acts less as a force of punitive justice, and more so as a mechanism to be triggered upon your opponents.”

“But we have the evidence, don’t we?” I offered. “Thalmin’s memories, just have him submit that as evidence. He doesn’t have the same issues Ilunor did with his brain curse thing-“

“I’m afraid the reality of the situation isn’t that simple, Emma.” Thacea interjected. “There is no guarantee that the disciplinary board will be conservative in their approach; thus no guarantee they wouldn’t take cumulative memories outright for their own ends. I believe you understand why this would be an unacceptable risk for our group to take.” 

“Yeah… I can see it.” I acknowledged with a heavy sigh. “It’d mean risking revealing our deals and plans with the library, our campaign against Mal’tory, and anything and everything in between.”

“This is without even mentioning the negative repercussions incurred upon Thalmin himself. As his words of active sedition against the Nexus would be recorded and documented for posterity, something which would be an intolerable risk to his own security and standing within the greater game.” 

“Right.” 

“In any other circumstance, perhaps the risk may in fact outweigh the opportunity cost, but in our case Emma… it most certainly does not.” 

“And what if we ask them not to scan his brain? Like, just asking them to perform a good old-fashioned investigation?”

“Then they may very well escalate matters into requiring some form of scrying or divination, Emma.” Thacea responded a-matter-of-factly. 

“Right… so using the disciplinary system in any capacity to deal with situations like this is a no-go then.” 

“Correct, Emma.” Thacea acknowledged with yet another nod. “In any case.” She continued, as it was clear she was now trying to shift the conversation away from Mal’tory, and towards something else. 

That something, turned out to be a series of three distinct beeps, courtesy of the M-REDD on my side of the tent. 

“I believe it is time you finally ate something that isn’t-”

“-animal feed?” I interjected snarkily.

“I was not intending to use such a deprecating descriptor Emma-”

“Nono, I was just making one of my jokes, is all..” I responded tactfully, before getting up and off of the cold hard canvas floors, my undersuit sticking to its surface for a bit. 

Opening up the M-REDD, I was greeted to a sight that was, perhaps for the first time… at least not a complete disaster. 

But then again, the same could be argued for the disaster that was the foot long brioche-turned-crouton. 

So looks could be deceiving.

Even when the foodstuffs in question looked eerily similar, if a bit discolored, from how it was outside the tent. 

Which meant… there was only one way to be sure. 

Consumption.

But first…

I turned my eyes towards one of the many cameras, the eye tracking more or less figuring out what I meant immediately. 

“External audio temporarily disabled, Cadet Booker. Your orders?” 

“I’m assuming you’ve done the appropriate food-safety tests as per HARPP protocols?” 

“That is correct, Cadet Booker. All parameters are within acceptable limits. The system would have alerted you to potential risk factors if any were detected.”

“I know, I know, I’m just double-checking, EVI.”

“Acknowledged.” 

“Alright, external audio on.” I ordered, my gaze finally unlocking from the cameras as I turned my full attention to the contents within the M-REDD’s airlock.

“Is everything to your liking, Emma?” Thacea asked warily, prompting me to reply as I took a closer inspection at everything within the platter of food.

“I haven’t tried it yet, I’m just… observing how much it’s changed first.” 

The platter was a simple affair, just a piece of flatbread, the same one Ilunor had used earlier in his… ‘demonstration’, plated alongside a few slices of fresh fruits, vegetables, and a dip that reminded me of a cross between hummus and whipping cream. 

I’d been reluctant to put the latter into the M-REDD, given how foods with greater density tended to take more time to desaturate. However, because of its airy, almost whipping-cream-like consistency, I thought it probably wouldn’t hurt to try. 

Though, amongst the rest of the food that at least retained their shape, the fluffiness and airiness that had been observed before seemed to have suffered at the hands of the M-REDD, rendering its fluffy peaks into sad little puddles of semi-fluid, semi-cream like consistency. 

“Alright so, bread looks the same, fruits look as if they’ve all browned due to oxidation or something… is that normal?”

“If it’s browned in any capacity, then we would consider it completely unfit for consumption. However, I have heard that peasants do consider browned fruits to be safe to eat, Emma.” Thacea answered, before quickly correcting herself once more. “Not that I am implying that you should be subjecting yourself to fruits of sub-par quality-“

“No, wait. Actually, I have a theory. You said before how the food that’s delivered to the dorms are like… magically enchanted to retain their freshness, right?”

“That is correct.”

“The M-REDD just sucked all of the mana out of it. Is it possible that by doing so, the magic that was the only thing keeping it fresh has like-“

“-failed?” Thacea completed my sentence for me, her tone indicating that the hypothesis was piquing her interests as it was my own.  

“Yeah.” I acknowledged. 

“That is more than assured, Emma.” Thacea answered affirmatively. 

“Right. And does… four, five hours exposed to the air sound like the typical time at which fruits like these would begin to brown?”

“That… is not something I am familiar with, Emma.” Thacea acknowledged, in perhaps one of the first instances she’d actively demonstrated a hole in her otherwise encyclopedic knowledge. 

“I figure that’s the sort of stuff you’re probably not exposed to much within the castle halls right?” I offered inquisitively. 

Thacea paused, as if pondering her answer, her features scrunching up in irritation. “Indeed. If you so wish, this is a matter that might best be answered by those who you may consider to be more worldly in such affairs.” 

It was at that point that I realized I’d slipped up, as sarcasm of any sort from Thacea was definitely not normal. 

“That came out wrong, I admit.” I acknowledged with an apologetic nod. “I was just making an observation, Thacea. I wasn’t implying anything by it. Everyone's experiences are just a bit different, and I respect that. I’m sorry if I caused offense.” 

The princess paused for a moment, before acknowledging that little backtrack with a nod of her own, following it up with a light chuckle. “The audacity of you, a citizen-commoner, to make a slight of such audaciousness, will be duly noted.” 

“Oh, so we’re keeping a list now I see?” 

“Perhaps, or perhaps not, but in any case…  I assume this conversation hasn’t been an attempt to delay the inevitable?” The princess quickly added that last remark, in a way that felt almost sarcastic, like an attempt at my own snarky sense of humor.

“Of course not.” I replied confidently, before feeling that bout of confidence fade upon setting my sights on the platter of de-mana-ified food. “Well, hey, there’s only one way to see if this works.” I sighed, holding one of the browned slices of apples close to my mouth. 

… nomf… 

To say that I was mildly surprised, would’ve been half correct.

To say that I was over the moon, and practically jumping for joy, would also be half correct.

In a sense, I wanted to believe the experience of eating what was in effect a half-crispy, half-mushy browned and uncomfortably seasoned apple was a welcome departure from the nutripaste tubes, and would’ve been enough to send me over the edge of culinary bliss.

But it didn’t.

If anything, it was colored by a mild disappointment, only marginally improved by a texture that wasn’t offensive, but tolerable.

“Well?” Thacea urged, prompting me to reply as frankly as I did earlier when it came to our previous conversation topic. 

“It’s okay.” I responded half-heartedly. “It tastes… more or less exactly like how it looks. Sweet, tangy, weirdly like a pear with hints of like… guava? Like, the texture definitely has that weird grainy stringy guava thing going on, except with the sliminess of an apple that’s been left out a bit too long. It’s something? But…” I paused, realizing the implications of this… “At least we can confirm that I won’t have to rely solely on the aquaponics algae farm.” 

“Anything that can save you from such a fate, even if marginal, is still a cause worth celebrating and striving for.” 

I began going through the rest of the fruits in rapid succession, each and every one of them more or less matched the old fruit left in the fridge for too long texture and flavor. This left the vegetables, which, while firm, tasted beyond overly seasoned. Dipping them in the hummus-like sauce didn't help matters at all — a fact that I conveyed towards Thacea with vivid detail. 

One after another, every item on the dish was absolutely demolished, until I was finally left with the final boss as it were — the flatbread.

My last match with a mana desatured baked good had left a dry and crumbly taste in my mouth.

This flatbread… was bound to do the same.

I took a moment to compose myself, before quickly, and nervously, I took a small bite out of one of its corners.

The flavor hit me first.

A slightly charcoal-y, smoky flavor masked with some salty herbs baked into it.

Next, was the texture, which… wasn’t bad.

It reminded me of a naan bread that like the rest of the food, tasted like it’d been left too long on the counter. It wasn’t crouton-levels of crispy though, moreso… overly chewy and dry. 

It was as if there was something missing from it.

“You know what.” I finally continued. “I think I’m going to pay the kitchen staff a visit some day. Thacea, are the kitchens off-limits to students or do we need to schedule something to visit them or anything?”

“I believe we can simply walk in, Emma. Moreover, it’s a distressingly common sight to see students of lower noble heritage marching into such places to make their complaints heard, or their special requests followed-through.”

“Right.” I nodded. “We’ll do that, after this week is done. Or… maybe after this month is done. There’s just too much to deal with right now.”

“Starting first and foremost with sleep, followed by tomorrow’s classes-”

“-and the spy mission to the man’s office, yup. Him being alive might actually be a good thing actually, since it’ll allow us to send an infil-drone to his office. And with my new set of drones printing as we speak…” I paused turning towards one half of the mechanical printer currently operating at max capacity. “... we should be able to resume the library’s mission, and get other answers in the meantime too.”

=====

The Grand Concourse of Learning. The Hall of Light. Local Time: 08:55 Hours.

Emma

The irony wasn’t lost on me, or anyone else for that matter, as throughout breakfast the number of laughs, cackles, and giggles could be heard throughout; making fun of how the black-robed professor was tied to a hall whose name was anything but.

However, despite that laughter, and despite the cheery back and forths between the rest of the group, I couldn’t help but to feel nervous at what was to come.

Especially as the man had once again been absent from the morning breakfast. 

His seat remained eerily empty, even as the clock marched forwards towards class.

There was no sign of him anywhere though, not even as we made our way towards the hall proper, as we were introduced to a room that immediately sent me back to the man’s dark and dreary office.

The Victorian aesthetic was certainly back, as there was nothing worthy of the room’s namesake seen anywhere. 

The various desks were made up of that same extra-dark oak that comprised up the man’s desk back in his office. The chairs behind them were the only things that truly broke up the monotony of black, dark brown, and even darker brown, as their plush leather upholstery was colored in a series of forest greens, striking oranges, and bright red.

Indeed, the longer I stayed here, the more claustrophobic I got, as I felt last night’s dream creeping up on me again, and the unmistakable feeling of being pinned down with my arms stuck to my sides surging to the forefront of my memory.

That was the one move that actually worked to counter me and my armor.

And it stuck with me.

I didn’t say anything else as Qiv began shepherding any stragglers towards their seats.

I could only watch as the clock began slowly, but surely, ticking up towards the start of class proper.

As five minutes soon became, four, three, two, and finally… one.

Nine o clock was announced with a series of melodic dings, akin to a grandfather clock counting each and every hour up with its deep and resonant chimes.

I counted each one, my breath hitching up with every passing ding… ding… ding… ding… 

Until finally, at the ninth ding, the door closest to the front of the room’s lectern swung open, revealing a dark and imperceptible chasm beyond it.

I held my breath, and in that moment, the whole room was suddenly bathed in a glowing pearlescent white.

This was quickly followed up by a series of harsh metallic footsteps, and a pair of softer footfalls, as well as a voice that resonated throughout the room. 

“Good morning to you all, first years, of The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts."