Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (24/?) Revised Version (Patreon)

Hey everyone! I've made some revisions primarily to help make sure the conversation flowed well as well as revising certain small bits for overall consistency with the story, which includes the name of Thalmin's ancestor! Word choices have been revised, as well as certain large chunks of conversation that have been broken up into more bite sized bits for ease of reading! Whilst there hasn't been many changes to the actual content of it I believe this flows better so I think you guys should check it out! :D 

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Living Room. Local Time: 1700 Hours.

Thacea

Perpetuity.

That was what the Nexus stood for, what it sought after, and what it fought for. In its quest to ensure the continuity of civilization, it had reasoned that all civilizations fell under its enlightened protection. Protection not from any outside power, nor any external existential threat, but from the dangers inherent within civilization itself.

Dynamicity.

That was what the Aetheronrealm had always embodied. A stark antithesis to the Nexus’ stringent beliefs and unwavering convictions. In more ways than one, my home realm had always been an outlier prior to the Nexian reformations, as it defied all known Nexian expectations on what an Adjacent Realm should have been. For instead of a series of disconnected fiefdoms trapped within a single continent, the Nexus discovered my kind spanning the breadth of our entire world. Instead of a disjointed and poorly connected peoples, they found a species united in a shared language, shared faith, and a deeply integrated culture.

Instead of another book for their anthology, they found a manuscript for a play yet unwritten.

A play which would remain unwritten, before being scrapped and rewritten to fit their anthology.

For we were an anomaly.

And we owed this anomalous state of affairs to our species’ natural gifts, and our inclinations for flight.

We owed it to our wings.

It was a mere, single, point of divergence. A single variable factor which entirely uprooted the Nexus’ prior assumptions and expectations.

So what then, could the Nexus expect from Earthrealm?

If our wings were enough to uproot millenia’s worth of historical, social, and cultural conventions… just how far was Earthrealm’s point of divergence going to take them?

Where would they fall in this sliding scale of Perpetuity and Dynamicity?

Moreover, could they even be classified at all?

Classification implied some level of conformity within an established system of preexisting conventions.

Conventions which simply could not be applied to Earthrealm and its denizens, for one, very, simple reason.

The nature of their point of divergence.

Their lack of a mana-field, and their mana-less home.

This alone was enough to upset the reality the Nexus had meticulously crafted. For it defied the one assumption which underpinned all other conventions: that life was only possible by virtue of a mana field. That sapience only came about as a result of the dynamic properties of mana. And that civilization was precipitated by the virtue of those few sapients with the gift and potential for mana-field manipulation, i.e. magic.

For it was only through the purposeful study of mana and its implementation in the form of magic, that led to the birth of the complex constructs which allowed for the existence of advanced civilizations.

Earthrealm had defied these conventions from its very inception, being a mana-less world which inexplicably bore life. Life which eventually gave rise to a mana-less race of sapients. Sapients which, through exotic means yet unknown, managed to birth civilization. An exotic civilization with an unprecedented level of parity to the Nexus in complexity and resolve, at least, as far as I’ve been able to observe.

This point of divergence was an impossibility, born out of a slew of enigmatic circumstances.

Leading to an impossible civilization, with an unforeseen abundance of unconventional and exotic tools created with the express purpose of making up for their magical deficiencies.

Perhaps then, that was what the Nexus should expect from Earthrealm.

Not dynamicity.

And most certainly not perpetuity.

But impossibility.

“And so the dragon enters her den, to rekindle the fires of her flame.” Thalmin began, breaking my reverie as we both watched in silence as the tent-like structure jiggled and jostled around somewhat. Before finally, it fell silent.

Though, silent was a relative term in this case. As the beginnings of the Earthrealmer’s slumber was marked by that monstrous rumbling and a terrible shrill shriek that would’ve caused any acoustically inclined species to go deaf.

This terrible assault on the auditory senses was a direct consequence of the complex series of artifices required to sustain a mana-less environment, and by extension, a necessary burden to tolerate given the exotic predispositions of the Earthrealmer’s unconventional physiology.

I outstretched my talons, feeling the ebb and flow of the rich, vibrant currents of mana around me, focusing on the direction of their movements; feeling for the various subtleties which differentiated each and every stream from one another. Before finally, I channeled but a few with a sudden tug and push.

Tisha Marsonachir. I casted silently within the confines of my mind, feeling the warmth of the mana-streams passing through my tainted manafield, imbuing me first with a feeling of fullness before quickly transitioning into that inevitable sharp twinge of discomfort.

A discomfort which at one point in time had been visible to all in the form of the physical cues one would associate with pain and irritation, but that had now been all but masked. Not out of some desire for stoicism or some proclamation of strength, but out of necessity.

For the Aetheronrealm court, like most existing royal courts, was a game of fronts and appearances amidst a constantly shifting political landscape that favored convention and conformity.

Taint and any signs of tainted afflictions, be it imagined or authentic, was something to be avoided. Signs of pain during magic use being one of them.

Thalmin, of course, never noticed.

The lupinor prince turned to me once again with that toothy grin of his. A predatory expression that I understood, but that most other species of the prey variety would’ve very much been naturally threatened by. “Good job. Quick thinking as always, princess.”

“I will have to inquire as to the specifics of the causative agents behind that dreadful noise.” I began softly. “It will be necessary to delve into whether or not this will be a constant each and every night, or whether there are mitigating factors which may aid in the dampening of this noise to more acceptable levels.” I continued, finally getting back into my former self. “It is a task that is regrettable, but one that is necessary to the maintenance of our continued state of affairs.” The verboseness that Emma had clearly disliked, a style of speech which purposefully hid and twisted direction, course, and intent, was now coming back to me.

The language of nobility, of speaking without actually saying anything, came rushing back to me.

“Heh.” The lupinor prince began, shrugging, before raising a hand to rub the back of his neck. “She had that effect on you as well, huh?”

“I beg your pardon?” I turned to face the lupinor prince with both hands firmly by my side.

“Princess, it’s only been a few days, but I can tell that there’s a difference in our interactions. If you’ll excuse my presumptiveness, I note a distinct and fine line between how we interacted prior to Emma’s arrival, and the subsequent hours and days following her paths crossing with our own.” The lupinor spoke earnestly, truthfully, perhaps to a detrimental degree.

“I’m afraid I cannot-”

“Maybe it’s easier for me. I am a mercenary prince after all.” The lupine chuckled in self-deprecation. “But there’s an underlying sentiment of informality that the earthrealmer invokes. It’s as if her very presence entices the deconstruction of Nexian social conventions, and the propagation of the self as a primary point of reference. Not one’s station or social standing.”

“That much is quite apparent if I do say so myself, Prince Thalmin, at least as it pertains to that former point. The latter remains inconclusive in my eyes.” I stated firmly, as if I was trying to convince myself that the aura the Earthrealmer projected, hadn’t yet affected me on some level.

A constant exposure to her unconventional values had started to chip away at what was the norm, and had slowly begun exposing what I’d been hiding underneath for a decade.

But with her presence now hidden behind an impenetrable mana-less barrier, the brutal, callous, and indifferent systems of the reality I was accustomed to began rushing back in. Overwhelming the brief, almost alien sensation of calm, that had resulted as a result of the Earthrealmer’s lack of any societal prejudices or expectations.

“Princess.” Thalmin tugged me out of my reverie once again. “I know you feel the exact same way I currently do. This… liberation of the soul. I know I can’t be the only one.” The lupinor’s voice seemed almost desperate. Perhaps not so much pleading, but dangerously close to bordering a tone of voice that was unbecoming of a member of a royal household.

It was clear what he was trying to do.

He was trying to reach out in a way that only I understood, by virtue of our shared experiences.

It was an attempt to bridge the gap, a leap of faith, and a gesture of trust.

“Thalmin, I-” I paused, as if catching myself just as I spoke, as I realized I’d left out the Prince’s title; a gross violation of court etiquette I hadn’t made since my youth. It was a mistake that was barely tolerable as it was with hatchlings, but was all but damning for any self-respecting member of noble heritage that had outgrown their down-feathers. Indeed, it was all but a political death sentence within the ruthless world of the Aetheronrealm royal court.

And while a political death sentence to most might’ve meant a loss of titles or a reconstitution of stipends, to one as tainted as myself, the term was to be taken far more literally.

“I apologize, Prince Thalmin I-”

“You already dropped ‘Prince’ in our conversations with Emma present.” The lupinor interrupted, his tone very much incongruent with the content of his speech. As instead of the sharp, terse, or even condescending tone of offense that should have accompanied such an interjection, there was only a calm, undeniably friendly cadence. “How is it any different now?” He offered with an overly amicable, toothy grin.

“The Lingua Regalia dictates-”

“The Lingua Regalia is a product of the Nexian reformation, and I refuse to abide by it when at all possible.” Thalmin retorted bluntly. “Whilst a similar concept might have existed in your realm prior to the reformation, what is left of it now is most certainly not of your own heritage or design. Thus I urge, no, I implore that we end this charade. Or, at the very least, we should start making an effort in doing so behind closed doors.” His tone was firm, but not demanding, once more straddling the line between defiance and diplomacy.

Thalmin was making concessions now, or at the very least, it was clear he was trying to make things more accommodating for me.

I couldn’t tell if this was just an aspect of his realm’s infamously rebellious attitudes, or whether or not this was yet another impact of Emma’s convention breaking proclivities.

“Language is but another facet of control.” I spoke under a hushed coo, partly to myself, and partly to surmise the underlying issues behind Thalmin’s sentiments of discontent. “By addressing this matter in such a blunt manner as you have suggested, you understand this leaves no room for interpretation as to your rebellious intent, correct?”

It wasn’t like me to be this willing to take unnecessary risks for no real tangible returns, to act foolishly for foolishness’ sakes. Even addressing this matter felt as if I’d yanked the veil off of a Nexian attache in the midst of a bicentennial procession. Yet I couldn’t deny what Thalmin had already pointed out. I couldn’t deny that his words bore merit.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Princess.” The Lupinor prince uttered confidently, and in doing so, had all but laid his cards to bear. “Besides, I did say only behind closed doors did I not? I’m not entirely suicidal after all.” The prince quickly added, bringing me some level of reassurance that the man hadn’t yet lost all of his stately bearing.

Yet even after all of these reassurances, and despite the nature of the Havenbrock royals being known to me, it still took me a great deal of conscious effort to actively commit to a drastic shift in noble etiquette.

I understood that I’d done so without any conscious effort prior, in the presence of the Earthrealmer, but that felt fundamentally different.

“Thalmin.” I spoke, feeling as if I’d just flown head first into a downdraft. “Your eagerness to accept the Earthrealmer’s novel, nonconforming ways, is truly unprecedented.” I managed out with great trepidation.

“Is it truly something you wouldn’t have expected from a mercenary Prince?” He chided back once more.

“That particular title and the subject matter it pertains to is irrelevant to this conversation.” I shot back. “You of all people should know that the Aetheronrealm stands with Havenbrockrealm. Whilst your family’s rise to power and ascension to the throne was… troubling and unforeseen, there is no denying the lengths to which your rule has benefited the realm. A far cry from the despotic rule of the prior regime which shall remain unnamed as befitting of their discredited state.” I paused, allowing some time to compose myself before continuing. “With all that being said, I merely wish to express how I was taken aback by the shift in your appraisal of the Earthrealmer’s dispositions.” I clarified diplomatically. “Especially given your initial interactions with Emma.”

“A shift, yes. But one within reason.” The wolf promptly clarified. “Emma is an enigma, Princess. When she first arrived, I was met with a being who hid their face in a suit of magically sealed-off armor. You know as well as I that us Lupinors find the obscuring of one’s scent, mana-based or not, to be indicative of cowardice or duplicity. But beyond those actions were words, words which boasted and proclaimed of a realm without knights and squires. So confidently did she utter those words that the sheer ludicrousness of such a statement had moved to border on the sing-song overtures of your common back-tavern two-faced fraudsters. Simply put, Emma had raised every potential red flag that could’ve been raised from the likes of a newrealmer.” The lupinor paused, as if to emphasize his next point. “It would’ve been an impossibility to see any of her claims through, let alone for the content of her character to be proven righteous in my eyes.”

“Yet despite all of that, she managed to do so in a matter of days.” I interjected, eliciting a series of fervent nods from the Lupinor prince.

“She managed to prove the impossible, possible.” The lupinor admitted with a hefty sigh. “I don’t like being wrong, Princess. I hate losing. Yet, this is one of those instances that I must concede and suffer a level of personal indignity. To do otherwise, would be to remain in the field of battle knowing well that the war had already long since moved on.”

“A very noble sentiment, nothing short of what I’d expect from a prince of the Havenbrok household.” I spoke with a reassuring smile. “From the very nature of her species, through to the mana-less artifices she wields with the deftness of a mage-artificer, Emma has done something which even the most seasoned of court nobility finds difficult to do.”

“That being?”

“Actually providing evidence to back up one’s bold and ostentatious claims.” I offered surreptitiously.

The lupinor cackled loudly at that, the fang-to-fang grin he held refusing to die down as it became clear with each passing act of jest, that we were indeed slowly but surely solidifying the foundations of our unconventional clique. “Fair point, princess.”

“I admit, I still had my personal reservations on the Earthrealmer even after all of our discussions, but every single one was ultimately rebuffed by the admission of ignorance from the Great Keeper of Knowledge himself.”

“That was your tipping point?” Thalmin asked with a cock of his head and a flick of his ears.

“Not necessarily, my reservations had already shifted earlier on due to the sheer weight of the evidence she had to support her claims. However, for a truly neutral, wise, unbiased observer with an unparalleled scope of power and knowledge such as the library to admit its ignorance on the nature of Emma’s armor and artifices? To then demonstrate a proactive willingness to bestow upon her a title of patronage? I would say that any and all doubts regarding the veracity of Emma’s claims, were all but put to rest from that point onwards.” I admitted with a soft series of coos.

“You’re a wiser mind than myself, Thacea, so I won’t discount your trust in the library. Though I personally have my doubts on putting faith on such a self-centered pit of endless consumption. If it weren’t knowledge it sought after but instead say… weapons of war or tomes of discord, I believe most would change their tune with regards to its trustworthiness. I personally don’t see any entity with that much power, demonstrating such a gross lack of empathy, as one I can ever put my faith in.” Thalmin once more laid out his grievances against the library, but just as quickly moved on. “But I digress.”

“So if not for the library, then what was your tipping point, Thalmin?”

“I’m of two minds on this one Princess.” The Lupinor sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in nervousness once more. “Because my tipping point, as it were, is an artifice that remains firmly entrenched within two worlds. Impossibly compelling, yet by virtue of its disturbing implications, equally impossible to believe in.”

That vague descriptor certainly caught my attention. “That being?”

“Her ‘gun’.” Thalmin stated bluntly, before pausing, deftly shifting the conversation towards what it had so clearly been building up to all this time. “Do you really believe it? Everything she says about it?”

“What aspect of it in particular are you bothered by?” I quickly deflected back, allowing the prince to place all his cards on the table before I revealed my own.

“It’s not so much about the exotic mechanisms by which such a mana-less artifice is supposed to work, that much I can suspend my disbelief over, as I’d already seen it in action. Her claims are reinforced by action, something that very much speaks to me on a deeper level. Because unlike her memory-shard artifice, or her insect-like golems, or even her translation artifice, this is the only tool on her roster that I’ve seen working in a manner that I can actually, palpably, see. It spoke for itself in the field of battle, and its components, whilst bizarre, were at the very least capable of being dismantled and explored. It is because of this that I’ve truly come to believe Emma. However, what troubles me is what you’ve managed to uncover by virtue of your inquisitive line of questioning, Thacea.”

I knew exactly what the Lupinor was referring to, and it would be a lie to say my heart did not waver as the topic was broached once more.

“The proliferation and deployment of such a weapon en masse and as a universal standard?” I spoke with a nervous coo.

“Precisely.” The prince let out a sullen, whine-ridden sigh.

“Then I refer to what we’ve already established, what you said yourself, the Earthrealmer has a propensity for proving the impossible, possible. Emma has been immensely forthright thus far has she not?” I shot back.

“Yes she has, but that doesn’t mean she does not have reason to lie regarding the potential strength of her realm. It’s the smart thing to do, after all.” Thalmin surmised, clearly attempting to rationalize away what I knew wasn’t the case.

The Lupinor had yet to have been privy to what Emma had shown me the night prior: the unrelenting fires of industry that the Earthrealm possessed.

“Thalmin, as much as I would agree with you given the logic of such an assertion, I just don’t see this being the case with Emma. What you’re describing is the intentional ascription of a strongman’s tactics to diplomatic dialogue. Which, up to this point, Emma has never once demonstrated. If she wished to lead in with strength and bluster, why do so exclusively in front of her most trusted peers? Why reveal now? Why does she choose civilized discourse with the Academy, backed not with strength, but with espionage? She has had every opportunity to play the strongman, she has the capacity to intimidate and bluster with great bravado, yet she hasn’t.” I argued, taking everything I’d seen of Emma up to this point and laying it all down in front of the Lupinor.

The Earthrealmer had so many opportunities prior to this point to push forward with a display of strength to assert herself, yet she chose the intelligent path of diplomacy, aided with tools designed for espionage and intelligence gathering. She didn’t lead in with strength, yet her dialogue wasn’t naively driven either.

“That’s the thing, princess. I have no reason to doubt her on this point.” The wolf began with an exasperated sigh. “She’s matched every single one of my values, word for word, and most importantly, action by action. And yet…”

I didn’t interject as the Lupinor trailed off, not wishing to edge him in either direction as I allowed him time to gather his thoughts at his own pace and on his own terms.

“... And yet, this is a step too far.”

“You just stated she fit your personal criterion on the content of one’s character did you not?”

“I did, and that’s the absolute most frustrating part. I just can’t get myself to believe her. Everything within me tells me that I should trust her at this point. And yet, if I do… then I’d be subscribing to one of the most preposterous reality defying claims imaginable.”

His eyes turned steely for a moment as he attempted to hammer home the point he was desperately trying to make. “An army armed exclusively with exotic weapons is one thing. But for that army to rely on an exotic weapon which can only function so long as these meticulously crafted cartridges remain in ready supply? Thacea, that’s like structuring your entire army around bowmen. What happens when you’re out of arrows? The Earthrealmers have no mana, no magic, so you can’t just conjure up or teleport over a fresh batch of bows. Not to mention the doctrines that would have to be adopted to field armies composed entirely of ranged combatants. It’s insanity, Thacea. I… I lose either way. Either I trust her and submit to the end of the reality of warfare as I know it, or I reject her claims and thus my judgment on one of the greatest potential allies and friends I could have ever hoped to gain in this hostile world.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m telling you to do.” I continued onwards, taking a deep breath and steadying myself. “To accept that this is indeed, a possibility.”

The wolf’s eyes widened at this, as if he’d expected me to yield, given my measured and reserved stance. “Princess, to supply an average army of ten thousand strong with weapons that rely solely on this exotic ammunition, which truth be told requires the precision of a seasoned blacksmith or clockworker to accomplish, means that Emma’s realm must be entirely devoted to the industrious efforts of war. Which causes me to shudder at the thought as to the actual state of their realm, if all matters are entirely focused on this one endeavor.”

“And yet we see her armor, forged with the expertise of a manasmith without mana. And yet we see a memory shard device, containing within it not just shards of moving images but entire books and gods knows what else. And yet we see her golems, mana-less insects capable of recording moving images, and intelligent enough to return to their master. All of this points to a society that is dedicated to more than a sole aspect of industry, Thalmin. This indicates that they are as diverse in specialization, as perhaps the Nexus itself.” I paused once more, allowing myself to catch my breath as I steadied up the next line of rebuttal which the Lupinor seemed anxious to hear. “We’re only seeing things from a singular vantage point. We lack the scope, size, and scale of a shadowmaster’s records. We’re peering into a ballroom through a single crack in the wall, glimpsing only bits and pieces of a greater song and dance that has been going on for gods know how long.” I expressed with a series of exasperated chirps, each and every one owing their still-intact composure from the practice and experience garnered within the Aetheronrealm’s royal court.

The difference here, however, was that court politics merely felt grandiose, when in actuality it was anything but. For each boisterous claim and embellished tale was ultimately all but the act of constructing mountains out of molehills. Whereas the situation with the Earthrealmer was the exact opposite. Every word spoken might have felt inconsequential, as benign as a chat with an ally of subordinate peerage. However, unlike court politics, each and every inconsequential word carried with it far reaching implications that bordered on the existential. Emma’s cheery and amiable disposition carried with it words that broke the very fundamentals of the world I thought I knew. With her, it wasn’t a matter of constructing mountains out of molehills, but instead, not appreciating every word as mountains to begin with.

A silence descended upon us both as I finished my long winded tirade. Whether or not the Lupinor had taken it to heart, remained up in the air.

“Expect the unexpected.” Thalmin finally broke the silence. “That’s an old adage from Thalonus the Great, the first of my line, and the founder of the Havenbrock family. Perhaps it is time for me to finally take his lessons to heart.” The man, his face once more broken, spoke to me in a manner so earnest it almost hurt to see.

“You know, we have another saying in my realm, Thalmin.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s: do not speak of storms if you wish to see a safe flight through. It means exactly what it implies. I understand the standards of superstition may be different across the realms, but it’s very much still quite prevalent within Aetheron. So I’d rather we refrain from tempting fate as-”

SLAM

The unmistakable sound of aged, mana-treated oak slamming against reinforced manasteel reverberated throughout the entire room. Proudly proclaiming the arrival, or rather, the return of a certain member to our party that has been inexplicably absent since morning.

Yet neither of us stood up in either shock nor panic, as we turned to face the Vunerian, who looked to be in an absolutely sorry state.

Gone were the immaculately pressed, meticulously folded fine silken robes from this morning. Now instead, replaced by a crumpled, torn, and ripped series of fabrics which barely covered his form. Indeed, I could see patches of orange fur and bite marks set across most of his cloak, which he used to immediately cover himself up just as the door swung shut behind him.

“What are you two looking at?! Haven’t you ever seen a Vunerian at the end of a particularly productive day?!” Ilunor practically barked out, yet it was clear that even his throat seemed particularly worse for wear. As if he’d been using, and had worn out, either his voice or his flame. “I bet you two have just been lounging around here in the dorms, so don’t look at me with those judgemental stares.”

A silence once more descended upon the room, with all of us at a loss for words.

It was once again, Thalmin, who was brave enough to break the silence.

"What the hell happened to you, Ilunor?"