Monthly Short Story for February: Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School Side Story 3 An Investigation in the Nexus (Patreon)

Hello Commissioned Pioneers! :D As promised as always, in accordance with the results of last month's poll, I present to you the Bonus Story of the Month! There were a total of four choices again, with a majority voting for Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School Side Story 3. Let's jump right to it then! I'd like to proudly present, Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School's third side story! :D 

An Investigation in the Nexus

The Nexus, Far Periphery, The Township of the Two Rivers, Childhood Home of Lord-Mayor Alaroy Rital

“What do you make of this, Mal’Asha?” The female elf spoke, clad in the inquisitional regalia of the Nexus’ inner guard, every aspect of her armor shining and shimmering even in the darkest reaches of this godforsaken attic.

Indeed, her very presence here ushered light unto an otherwise lightless world. A world hidden from the public eye, and from the scrutiny of his majesty’s enlightened rule. It only made sense why this place was hidden, however. For the fate which had befallen this lowly adventurer turned Lord-Mayor would have been far worse than the sweet and merciful one the gods had bestowed him. For if the contents of this room were to have been released to the populous of the Township of the Two Rivers, if but a single shred of a single page of these heretical journals were seen by any of the township’s councilmembers, then the man surely would’ve been lynched overnight regardless of his age, health, or disposition.

At least, that’s what should happen.

Out here in the furthest reaches of the Nexus, especially after the recent death of the entirety of the circle of the archmages, nothing could truly be uttered in full certainty.

Which was why we were called in.

As even in the furthest of the furthest reaches of his majesty’s domain, the eternal and enlightened regime shines through. If not in the form of the Royal Truths self-evident in the hearts and minds of his subjects, then so it shall be in the form of his uncompromising grip, through the velveted glove of his measured rule.

We are that velveted glove.

For the Inner Guard remains as the sole order which answers not through a convoluted web of privy council politics, but instead, as a direct extension of his majesty’s will.

“Heresy. Heresy of the highest order, Judge-Executor Tas’Tory. This is the den of a madman. These texts, these so-called records, are all but figments of the imagination of a commoner turned appointed-noble, and reads as such.” I proclaimed proudly and without hesitation. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in my light-drenched soul. Not that there could be any shadow of a doubt, not especially during these final years which marked my formal induction into the order. Doubt was the undo-er of saints, and the slightest hint of it in the Inner Guard was analogous to the presence of taint in the presence of his majesty’s divine eye.

Holding but one of these journals in my hand sickened me to my core, as I flipped through it, reading through what felt like the greatest affront to the beauty that was High Nexian. As passage after passage, written in my tongue, the royal tongue, was devoted to the asinine ramblings befitting of a tainted asylum.

I dared not read any of this out loud. Just handling them was sickening enough.

Though I knew that once we casted hellfire upon this room, all that disgust would turn to catharsis.

I awaited such an order by the Judge-Executor.

“But what if it isn’t?” The judge-executor postulated, a genuine, completely unexpected departure from her no-nonsense attitude.

I was stunned.

No, I was completely taken aback.

Every fiber of my being felt as if I’d been tricked, duped, and completely taken astray by some latent demon which had found its way from the pages of these dark tomes and into my mind.

I casted several spells of detection to make sure I wasn’t already overtaken, which seemed to garner the attention of my senior who looked on at me with abject confusion.

“Calm down, initiate. Your senses do not deceive you, and your faculties remain entirely untainted.” The woman spoke without hesitation, attempting to bring me back from the brink that was my more than justified panic.

“Judge-executor?” I shot back, still refusing to believe what I’d just heard. The fact that this, an elven senior, would even consider the possibility of all of these ramblings being anything other than the diseased writings of a man who had positioned himself as anything but an uppity commoner was beyond appalling.

“I said, what if it isn’t? What if all of these ramblings, these lost words of a former adventurer turned politician, are in fact, rooted in some form of reality?” The judge-executor proposed yet again.

It took me everything in my whittling self control to not cause further uproar between the ranks. Indeed, if this were anything but the modern era, I’d say there might have been grounds for me to break the chain of seniority for probable cause of heresy. But alas, we now live in an age of modernity. The modern era heralded an increasingly complex web of social and ethical codes, which if it were up to me, should’ve never been integrated into the ranks of the Inner Guard. For the Inner Guard was meant to be above all of this, it was supposed to be the purest expression of his majesty’s will. How regretful it is, that the will of his perpetual reign be sullied by the short-sighted politics of a given era.

The petty desires of a hundred thousand noblemen and women are but faint whispers and echoes when set against the symphonic choruses of a perpetual monarch.

However, in the same light, I must understand that his majesty works in ways beyond the comprehension of a mere mortal such as myself. For ultimately, even the Inner Guard was transient. Everything was transient when set against the perpetuity of-

“Initiate.” The Judge-Executor uttered sharply, bringing me back to attention, pulling me straight out of the panicked reverie which I had retreated to. “You and your propensities for internalized thought are a genuine hindrance. A distracted mind is as bad as a weakened constitution. For if a threat were to arise during such a state… I shudder to think what may become of you once you leave my tutelage, Mal’Asha.” There was a clear hint of genuine care and concern there, one that harkened back to our previous exploits and my own shortcomings as a result of my preoccupied mind.

“My sincerest apologies, Judge-Executor.” I clenched both fists tight against my chest and bowed sharply in accordance with the expected social etiquette.

“It is quite alright, Mal’Asha. This is not a slight against your capabilities, but rather, something I must reinforce should you wish to survive out there against the ravages of barbarism which you will inevitably one day face alone. The enemies we face care not for honor, for dignity, nor for the rules that govern battle. They will take every advantage of every disadvantage we give them. So make sure not to give them anything, Mal’Asha.”

The Judge-Executor, as was to be expected, was a stern superior. However, contrary to the popular public perception of the Inner Guard and what was widely regarded as our cold and callous nature, she was also a caring superior. Which, given what I’d learned over the course of my training and pre-initiation, was a natural extension of the master and apprentice-like relationship between a superior and an initiate.

I trusted the Judge-Executor. I had faith in Tas’Tory. Why then, did she wish to test it by entertaining the diseased thoughts of a mad man?

Maybe this was a test?

It had to be.

“Judge-Executor.” I managed out cautiously. “Could you please clarify what you mean by your…” I held my breath, gulping down an uncomfortable knot in my throat. “... statements, regarding the nature of the findings within this den of heretical debauchery?”

It was at that point that the Judge-Executor walked over to yet another pile of junk. Unlike the rest of the boxes that only contained texts detailing the ramblings of this impossible realm, this box was larger, and contained canvases.

Each canvas was covered with a heavy tarp, perhaps to protect the otherwise expensive mana-paints from dissipating from exposure to latent mana. On the front of each of these tarps was a piece of paper, detailing the contents that lay within.

“Alaroy Rital claimed in his writings that his accounts were backed by spectral-imprints. As you understand, spectral-imprints are a step above mere memory shards or crystals.” The Judge-Executor gestured at not just the box in front of us, but an entire row of similarly designed boxes. All of which were constructed from wood and fine materials that outclassed even the attic it was stored in. “And here we stand, amidst an entire gallery’s worth of spectral-imprints. Do you know how much each of these are worth, Mal’Asha?”

“I can’t say I have done much research into the material worth of such items, Judge-Executor.” I admitted, once more realizing my follies of not having studied enough. I took for granted the unparalleled access to both funds and sourcing that the Inner Guard had. I’d forgotten how the typical noble, let alone commoner, would interpret the value of such artifacts.

“Each one of these is worth a Transgracian Academy researcher’s entire monthly stipend. Or, to put it into more layman’s terms, it’s worth the average annual earnings of a typical adventure.” The Judge-Executor spoke softly as she began flipping through each canvas, her armored hands deftly handling each and every one with the meticulous precision of an archivist despite the added encumbrance of her armor. “There are a total of 40 canvases for every box, and a total of at least 10 boxes, Mal’Asha.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow-”

“Think critically about this, Mal’Asha. Would an elf, who so clearly had the intelligence to worm his way into a position of local political influence, be willing to devote what amounts to several lifetime’s worth of funds to a cause that would ultimately bear no fruit? Alaroy Rital was a commoner who only by the strength of his own skills, intelligence, and willpower, was able to climb the ranks of his adventuring guild, before finally attaining a position of influence within his backwater town. This demonstrates that the man, whilst a commoner, was not a fool. Yes, he may be of an unsound mind, but should that mind be so unsound as to squander an entire life’s worth of effort into an exercise in futility I doubt he would’ve even been able to kill his first slime, let alone slay the region’s meddlesome dragon. In more relevant terms, I doubt he would’ve been able to turn the failing township from a backwater sinkhole, into a regional center for adventurers and craftsmen.” The Judge-Executor explained through a lengthy interjection, before deciding upon a canvas marked with the number ‘one’, denoting it to be the first of a collection of 400 canvases.

“Shall I cast a defensive spell, Judge-Executor? If this man is as competent as you say he is, he may have set up traps or some other ward against undesired tampering.” I offered, trying my best to still remain relevant in the midst of the Judge-Executor’s explanations.

“If you believe it to be prudent, then by all means, initiate.” The senior spoke. “While you do so, I will take the liberty of reading what Alaroy had to say about his first spectral-imprinted canvas.” The Judge-Executor moved to position the canvas upon a conveniently placed altar; what most of the uneducated masses may see as an easel but in actuality was the proper medium by which to observe these sensitive spectral-imprints. With an adjustment of her helmet’s eyepieces, the Judge-Executor began reading the small passage affixed to the tarp verbatim.

“I wish I would’ve had the funds, and the means to put these images to posterity far earlier. Alas, what is trivial on the other side of that window, is most certainly not on this side. Whereas the funds for a single high-quality imprint was carefully accrued over years of life threatening adventures, L.P. had apparently been gifted an item of equal if not superior capabilities on his 5th birthday. And he wasn’t even a noble. Regardless, I am happy enough that I managed to start what I hope will become the start to my own catalog of records, starting with this first canvas.

With little in the way of fanciful flourishes, the Judge-Executor promptly ripped the tarp off of the canvas, revealing a lifelike imprint of a scene that took place in this very attic. A scene which depicted a young Alaroy, an elven male in his 40s, standing proudly next to a window embedded into a dresser. The man seemed excited, the wide grin which sat upon his face looked almost unnatural, as if a demon had traced it on without a shred of regard for realism.

Or perhaps that was me being overly critical of a heretic displaying any emotion other than guilt and regret for transgressions committed against common decency.

Regardless, the scene soon shifted from a static imprint into moving images. Unlike memory shards that were at times limited and unreliable, spectral-imprints were able to put anything within its intended vicinity into neatly woven tapestries of artificed weave. This included the scene that slowly unfolded before us.

Scenes that had started innocently enough, but would quickly descend into the disturbing ravings of a mad man.

I could tell that the Judge-Executor, despite her newfound desire for over acceptance, was shocked by what she saw; despite the regal helm of an Inner Guardsman obscuring most of her face.

“It works! Oh by the grace of all of the gracious Gods and Goddesses it works! L. P., my friend, I shall too have my own imprints of our scant few interactions together!” An excitable Alaroy spoke, his eyes shifting to and fro, between the ‘focal point’ of the canvas itself, and a window that displayed nothing but the wood paneling behind it.

“The man is speaking to a wardrobe.” I uttered out in equal measures disgust, incredulity, and a visceral unease.

The Judge-Executor refused to respond, simply raising her hand, a blatant signal to halt my unneeded commentary.

There was no response from this window. No sounds that were put to imprint that could be construed as another entity talking to the elf in question. Yet his expressions looked as if he was in the midst of an engaging conversation. His head was bobbing up and down, his eyes glued to the window as if meeting the gaze of an unseen being.

“Recordings? Ah, that is what you call imprinting over in your realm is it, L.P.?” The elf shot back at the window in the wardrobe.

A few seconds passed, enough time for a proper response from that enigmatic being.

A being which Alaroy seemed to have been more than capable of hearing and sensing as he replied back promptly. “Vee Dee Ooh? Why, that sounds absolutely exotic! But we should get to more pressing matters before we run out of time. So tell me, how has the public perception of my latest exploits been? How many eyes have gazed across the pages of the tales of the one and only Alaroy Rital, Slayer of the Dragon of the Grey Canyon, Guild Master of the Elusian Guild Hall of Adventurers, Hero of the Nexus?”

Another pause, another excruciating few seconds of entertaining the ramblings of a madman… I wished to interject, to halt these charades, but the Judge-Executor seemed dead-set in seeing it through.

“You cannot be serious, L. P! A hundred thousand eyes in the span of a few months is a preposterous-”

Another pause.

“I misheard that? A hundred million of your books have been sold?! L. P., are you saying that there are a hundred million souls who now know of the exploits of yours truly, the great and storied Alaroy Rital?”

“Enough.” I uttered out.

Only to be shushed again by the Judge-Executor.

“Alright, alright. You know a lot of this is beyond me, L.P. We’ve discussed the nature of your interconnected system of interconnected nets before, with your renditions of my adventures as yet another part of one of these nets; similar to our own Astral Cloudways. Now please, I need to know. Are you safe? It has been a few months since our last talk, at which point you were discussing the possibility of your second war in the heavens being pushed into a new direction. A direction which involves the war in the heavens descending to the mortal realm?”

“I said, enough, Judge-Exector Tory!” I finally put my foot down, both literally and figuratively which was disruption enough for the canvas to shake and shudder, causing the imprints to stutter just long enough for me to have a say in this ever growing sea of madness.

“Initiate!” The Judge-Executor shot back reflexively. That single word brimming with an immeasurable disappointment.

And rightfully so.

It was beyond socially damning for me to have overstepped my bounds in such a fashion, and it was only after the fact did I realize the implications of what I’d done.

There was only one way for me to rectify my actions, and that began with a sharp clatter of armored pieces ringing against one another as I got down to both of my knees in front of the senior elf.

“My humblest and most sincere apologies, Judge-Executor. I… I do not know why I acted the way I did. There is no justifying the sheer disrespect I have incurred and I submit to any and all disciplinary actions you deem appropriate for this brazen act of professional and personal insolence. It was never my intent to dishonor your title, your station, or your person, Judge-Executor.” I bowed deeply, holding myself there for what felt like mere seconds before the woman in front of me walked forward and promptly held me up by my shoulders.

“Get up.” She spoke softly. “The floor is no place for an initiate of the Inner Guard.” Tas’Tory spoke with a sincere warmth in her voice that gave me more unease than any punishment could.

“Judge-Executor?”

“I’m not angry nor am I disappointed, initiate. Indeed, I recognize the frustration that comes with not having your voice heard.” The woman spoke cryptically as she moved to walk towards the canvas, staring at it and leaving her back turned towards me. “I empathize with your frustrations, primarily because such frustrations are what I will be experiencing should I wish to pursue what I have planned for this collection we have uncovered.”

“I… I’m afraid I do not follow-”

“You may see the ramblings of a madman. But look closer, initiate.” The woman ushered me forward, which I tentatively did. “Do you know another benefit of using spectral imprints over memory shards?”

“Memory shards are sometimes less reliable, Judge-Executor.” I answered swiftly.

“Anything else?”

“They… they tend to only imprint certain aspects of a given moment, and they lack the detail and clarity of a spectral-imprint, Judge-Executor.” I explained further as instructed.

“Yes, and amongst those details as you might already know, are the detailed imprints of the mana-streams of that imprinted moment.” The Judge-Executor spoke as she began illustrating her point, casting several spells to enhance the visual contrast of the canvas, displaying the various streams of mana in a rainbow of colors. It was then that I realized something peculiar. Something that I had not focused on given my shock and disgust at the ravings of the diseased Alaroy. Indeed, once I noticed it, I simply could not contain my shock as I took several steps backward in an attempt to distance myself from the genuine threat that the canvas, and this entire attic posed.

“The window-” I muttered meekly.

“Is an artifact created and sustained almost entirely by taint, yes.” The Judge-Executor completed my statements for me. “I do not know what Alaroy saw. But there are rumors of certain Nexian-natives, whose bloodlines have at some point crossed paths with those of the tainted adjacent-realmers, and thus carry with them a latent proclivity for taint. Either the ability to observe it with greater clarity than us, or the ability to harness it in a controlled manner outright.”

My mind was preoccupied with a single thought at this point in time. As I casted defense spell after defense spell as my gaze turned towards any and all closet-looking artifacts within this enclosed space.

I had to destroy it all.

“I understand the urge to raze this place with hellfire, initiate.” The Judge-Executor conceded. “However, given what we know, I will be forwarding this matter to the Lord-Executor. It is prudent that we isolate the cause and that we determine what it was Alaroy was speaking to through that window.” The Judge-Executor explained succinctly, moving towards more of the canvases as I stood there in complete and utter shock, wrapped in spell upon spell of taint protection.

It was in that catatonic state of disbelief did the Judge-Executor pull out another canvas.

This one was different however.

Instead of the mana-imbued spectral imprint, this seemed to be a normal, everyman canvas. One meant for painting and art rather than magic.

As she unwrapped the protective covering, my eyes refused to register what I saw.

The image was accompanied by yet another passage, one that the Judge-Executor proceeded to read verbatim.

“The more and more I speak to L.P, the more I find myself entranced by his descriptions of the world beyond the window. Whilst his talk of a plenty many things do not impress me given we have close enough equivalents, his talk of a city of glass spires is what truly captures my imagination. Or better yet, a city amidst a desolate desert situated amidst the heavens, or within the heavens themselves! I am but an amateur artist, and I would sooner see myself parading through the central square in skivvies rather than commission an actual artist given the heretical contents of my claims… but I cannot help but to express a few of these wonders, which L.P. has shown me on the rare occasion on his hand-held spectral-imprinted artifice. I call this piece… The City of Spires”

The art itself was amateurish, the composition left a lot to be desired, but the picture it displayed left a lot to be explained.

It was an urban landscape, completely overrun by gray on gray towers. Each with wild and distressing designs that lacked any artistic credibility or expression. Blocky, bland, heartless, as if someone had taken rudimentary geometric shapes and merely stacked one atop the other with no care or consideration for art. Each and every tower looked cold, hollow, and lifeless. An entire city, an entire landscape, taken over by these gray and gloomy weeds. Each tower emerging from the Earth like blades of grass or weeds would from the great plains.

It was at that point that I knew what had to be done.

It was regrettable.

I truly did see the Judge-Executor as more than a superior at one point.

=====

Grand Capital, The Royal Palace, Inner Guard Sanctum. 4 Months Later

“You have done this institution a great service, Junior-Inquisitor.” The Grand Inquisitor spoke, her voice echoing through the empty amphitheater with my gaze averted from her heavenly visage.

I shuffled in place, her presence all but dwarfing my own, despite our comparatively similar height and stature. “I… I feel as if I have done a disservice to the chains that bind, Grand-Inquisitor-”

“Shush. The chains that bind and the social contracts that lie therein exist only for those deserving of it. You are of a strong heart and mind, Mal’Asha. You stood alone, surrounded in a den of evil with an orator of sin abusing those chains for the purposes of heretical conversion. Yet your soul remained strong, true to the cause, enlightened with his majesty’s eternal wisdom.” The Grand-Inquisitor quickly shot down any and all thoughts of self-doubt, instead, imparting my soul with a fiery zeal that left me feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction. A feeling that the Judge-Executor's whispers of sweet nothings could incite.

“I feel as if the chains that bind made me view the Judge-Executor almost as a parental figure at times, Grand-Inquisitor. It was frightening, but I knew my faith would see me through. No matter how strong the bond, no matter if a bond birthed by blood or forged by fire and steel, nothing is as strong as the faith and love of his majesty’s perpetual guiding light.” I announced proudly, with a confidence in my voice that I never knew I was capable of prior to my induction into this highly coveted order.

“Your place is most certainly here amongst our ranks, rather than that of the Judge-Executors, Mal’Asha. The Inner Guard is nothing if not pure, but only the purest of the pure find themselves here. Be proud of that, Mal’Asha. Be proud of the purity of your heart.” The Grand-Inquisitor chuckled back with a warmth in her voice that sent shivers down my spine. The woman was larger than life, wiser than any bar his majesty. Yet, she was humble enough to discuss such trivial matters as the fate of the Judge-Executor with me, a mere junior-inquisitor. “I take it your oversight of your first inquisition was successful then?”

“Yes Grand-Inquisitor. The land, property, and belongings of the heretical Alaroy Rital have all been razed with hellfire. In addition, I’ve seen to it personally that his records and his familial relations have all been addressed in an appropriate fashion. Echoes of his legacy still lingers, which is the unfortunate effect of a local figure cast in legend. However, even those too will die over the ensuing years.” I spoke with certainty.

“Will they now?” The Grand-Inquisitor shot back at me.

“I will make sure of it, Grand-Inquisitor.” I responded. The stutter that had come naturally as an extension of my inconfidence was all but a distant memory now. Replaced entirely by the ceaseless fervor of my newfound place.

“Good, good.”The elderly woman spoke with a series of slow affirmative nods. “You have a bright future ahead of you, Mal’Asha. There will always be more tainted artifacts to be rid of, and more subversive elements to correct.”

Despite this, and despite dispatching of the wretched Judge-Executor months ago now, a part of her still lingered in my mind. Or at the very least, a part of her that still spoke to my innermost sense of wanton curiosity.

I wished to ask further about the nature of these artifacts.

I wished to know more about the demonic elements that had taken hold of both Alaroy and Tas’Tory.

But I knew better than to dig deeper into that which was tainted and corrupt.

I knew better than the former Judge-Executor, than to entertain what should never be entertained.

“As you command, so I shall follow, Grand-Inquisitor.”