Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (3/?) WiP (Patreon)

Orientation. That was what the blue-robed professor spoke of when he, and the red-robed woman, escorted me towards yet another expansive room. Except this one looked far more like one of those massive michelin star restaurants on cruise ships. 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, almost lightning-looking patterns that more resembled cracks in the otherwise pristine flooring that pulsate 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 put anyone entering about a half-floor’s height above the rest. Indeed, this seemed to be something reminiscent of those grand staircases where one’s name would be called out prior to entering the room.

And 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 freshman 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 by how the uniforms would 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 liquified mess.

So when the issue of my survival was well and truly out of frame now, what was left was the need to adapt to college life. Something that I had ironically been preparing at home for years already, but something told me that things would be much, much different here than what I was spending years readying myself for.

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 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 had 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 fucking 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 shut off the audio enhancers almost immediately after hearing that. My heart practically sank as I realized just what this place was, if the period clothing and architecture wasn’t hinting at it already… this was your typical medieval, maybe renaissance (I wasn’t the best at history), culture. A culture that’s stuck before the advent of any industrialized social progress.

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.

I hope you guys enjoy this little WiP sneak peak into the third chapter! :D It'll be edited and done soon and will more than likely be posted the same day as the second chapter going live on Reddit!