Monthly Short Story for April: Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School Side Story 5 A Long Flight From Home (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 5.

This actually takes place some time after last month's side story, A Hero's Visit, so I suggest you read that first before reading this story as it gives some backstory to this story! :D

Let's jump right to it then! I'd like to proudly present, Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School's fifth side story! :D

A Long Flight From Home

Aetheronrealm, 7 Hours Flight North-East from Flockston. Somewhere near the Estan Coastline.

Flying during a storm was a reckless endeavor unless you knew exactly what you were doing. Safe passage during such perilous conditions required a flight partner, a flock lookout, and the forethought to meticulously map out flight paths and alternate routes should something unexpected arise during the journey.

This was why there existed a great many social institutions that arose with the express purpose to facilitate a safe passage. From vast stretches of rest-nests, towns specialized in providing services specifically for the weary traveler, to paid and voluntary traveling flocks, groups of Avinor not related by class, blood, or occupation, but temporarily united in flight for the security that came with numbers.

Yet all of these precautions, all of these safety nets designed to ensure that the typical Avinor traveler did not fall to the follies of the inexperienced traveler, were luxuries which I could not afford.

Not because I didn’t have the gold.

Nor was it because I didn’t have the connections, even if they were dwindling by the season.

But because I didn’t have the luxury of time.

And I lacked the foresight to know when he would return.

But beyond that, I had little in the way of choice if I wished to preserve the last living legacy of Avinor-kind.

The damp coldness reminded me of this reality, as did the weight of the precious cargo which was attached underneath me in a carry-sack, designed for hatchlings, and not for fledglings.

Indeed, no Avinor in their right mind would’ve even considered taking a fledgling out on a flight even in the best of conditions… but I didn’t have a choice.

As the danger I was putting myself, and my son in, was a calculated risk for a far larger picture that mattered more than any of our lives individually.

It was a risk that at least offered marginally better chances at survival, rather than sitting down and waiting for my fate to be decided at the hands of the hero of the Aetheronrealm.

And so I flew, the natural water-proof coating of my feathers did very little against the monsoon rains that pelted the coastline. But my breed was known for their hardiness, their speed, and their ability to persevere, even if my family had been spared the burden of having to use these natural abilities as a result of our rank and station.

I could feel my tail-feathers struggling to keep up against the forward winds, as I flapped harder, and harder, and harder against the ceaseless intensity of the summer storms. I could feel my muscles aching, burning, and coming close to cramping up, wishing to stop, desperately needing to glide. But I knew better than to listen to the screams of my body, as giving in to the instinct to glide, would undoubtedly mean assured death. As I’d be committing to a final glide, an uncontrolled descent towards the sheer ragged cliff faces… or worse, the waters rife with monsters.

Monsters which at one point in time had been kept at bay by our overfishing, but had now been allowed to return to their former archaic dangers as a result of the imbalance brought on by Nexian tampering.

Nexian tampering…

The thought of anything Nexian made my blood boil, which acted as fuel to keep me going, giving me the strength to push onwards towards a destination that neither me nor my uncle nor anyone else could say for certain still even existed.

“Mommy… I’m cold…” I heard the little one whining, clinging tightly to my underside as my only wish now was to hug him and hold him tight. But I couldn’t, not when I had nowhere to land, and not when we were still at a risk of being followed. “I wanna go home…” He continued softly.

“Shh, shh… We’re almost there my love. We’re almost there. Just a few ticks now. “ I managed out under a ragged, tired breath. I could barely hear myself speak against the unrelenting roar of thunder that accompanied the ceaseless assaults of lightning which temporarily lit up the dark overcast skies. Yet as dangerous as the lightning was, so too was it necessary in me completing this journey, as they served as the only source of light I was using to navigate these treacherous coasts.

I purposefully charted a course far away from any rest-nests, from any established civilization for obvious reasons. So there was nothing out here but the skies above me and the lonely lonely shores beneath me.

“But I wanna go home now… I don’t like this mommy… please…” The boy pleaded.

The sharp, piercing whines sent a stinging pang of guilt right through me.

But I knew I couldn’t stop.

I had to keep on going.

Because if I did… if we went anywhere but our destination, then there would be no more tears to shed.

“We’re almost there my love. We’re almost there.” I kept repeating.

Partly to soothe Cinata.

And partly to convince myself that we’d actually make it through this treacherous night.

Aetheronrealm, 17 Hours Flight North-East from Flockston. Alewing’s Cove.

I arrived to no great fanfare or procession.

There were no retainers to help me as I staggered forward into the empty, seemingly lifeless cave.

There were no porters to call for aid or assistance, as my legs gave in, and my whole body lay limp, wet, and motionless at the lip of the iron door that had seemingly rusted shut centuries ago.

There wasn’t even a lick of light or fire, no sounds or inklings of civilization, as the seemingly endless monsoon raged on, occasionally sending drafts of salt and fresh water into this tiny cave that stood barely a few feet above water at high tide.

Indeed, I wish to simply lay there and let the waters take me… if it wasn’t for the sharp, wheezing breaths of Cinata, who pushed me to persevere onwards.

I staggered to my talons, the sharpened ends clacked against the millenia-old seastone that lined the floor of this cave, as I raised a single talon up high, clutching it against the door handle of this rusty entryway, lifting it, before slamming it a total of five separate times. Remembering to space them out as my uncle had taught me.

Five seconds… then three… then two… Then seven… Then ten…

I just hoped that the rhythm wasn’t entirely shot by my hand’s constant shaking.

Seconds passed… but no response came.

What felt like minutes passed after that, yet there was no inkling that anyone was here.

Part of me wanted to try again, to bang incessantly on the door for help.

Yet I knew that would make things worse. Or rather, that would ruin what sliver of a chance I had at completing this fool’s errand.

“Remember, you’re only allowed one chance at entering the code. Any further attempts will invalidate your entry outright. Is it draconic? Of course it is. Is it the best we could come up with? Of course not. But when the armies were scattering and our forces pulled back to settle in for the long, drawn out guerilla campaign, there was little time to plan for every eventuality. That includes this small holdout that might or might not even still exist.”

I distinctly recalled my uncle’s words from the few nights we’d afforded ourselves to plan out this foolhardy plan.

It was harsh, it was stern, but in that harshness was a certain tone of voice that I hadn’t heard in a long while now.

Pride.

Perhaps this self-sacrificial mission was enough to redeem my complicitness in all of this in his eyes.

Or perhaps, he was just satisfied that with my absence, his mission could now resume. Though, I doubted if he could even stall the hero for more than a few short seconds if it did come to that.

But of course, my uncle had always surprised me in the past.

And I knew he had his secrets.

The cellar did smell of charcoal and sulfur after all.

Whilst my time at the court had been few and far in between, there were a few short instances where I was permitted to listen in to the long drawn out discussions between the arcanists and the empircalists. This distinctive mix of charcoal and sulfur was something I would never forget, as it belonged to something that the empircalists had brought to the table just weeks prior to the Nexus’ arrival, as they championed it as some sort of powder that would revolutionize the battlefield, bringing forth a new age in warfare.

Unfortunately, whatever it was meant to be never really did manifest. Not when the Nexus had removed all traces of empircalist traditions.

But perhaps my uncle was finally able to re-crack this code, and perhaps, he would be able to use whatever empircalist tricks remained to stall for time.

I could only hope.

Another gust of wind brought me out of my short reverie, much to my dismay.

The thought of the hero walking into my uncle’s final few tricks was starting to warm me up something fierce, but it didn’t really do much against the unrelenting force that was a summer monsoon.

The howling of the winds soon followed, just to add insult to injury, as the little one began to stir once more in the tight embrace of my carry-sack.

“Mommy… are we there yet?” The little one uttered out, his voice barely audible against the constant wailing of the wind into the cramped confines of the cave entrance.

“We’re here my heart, we’re here.” I managed out weakly, my arms having since given in to the cramps of a continuous flight that had taken me from dusk to dusk to accomplish.

“You’re lying…” He managed out weakly.

“Nono, sweety, we’re here, we just need to wait for the servants to-”

“There are no servants! There’s nothing! There’s nothing anymore! Just like there’s no more castle, there’s no more tower, and there’s no more Ciphony!” Cinata yelled out with great vitriol, venting out all of his frustrations through a series of teary breaths.

He was right to be mad.

He’d lost so much in so little time.

And in his eyes, it was me and me alone that had orchestrated the loss of everything we’d both once taken for granted.

“I’m sorry Cinny... I did what-”

“That’s what you always say!” He began, his yells emitting an ear-shattering screech, before finally… dying down. “That’s what you always say…” He muttered out weakly, the trip clearly having drained him of even the ability to voice his frustrations.

“I know… and I’m sorry.” I managed out, holding him tighter now… and as much as he’d tried to push me away, he eventually relented. Reaching his little wings around me as I could feel the rapid shallow heaving of his chest, and the sharp shrill whistling of the air entering and exiting his little lungs.

“I just wanna go home mommy… I just wanna see Ciphony again…”

“One day my heart-”

“I wanna make it all go back to before. I wanna go back where everything was normal again…” He continued in between shallow ragged cries.

I said nothing as I did the only thing I could do at this point.

And that was to hold him as tight as possible as I felt the weight of fatigue finally catching up to me.

“Mommy-” I could barely make out as the world started fading back and forth between peak clarity and a hazy darkness.

“Mommy what’s wrong?” I heard Cinata speak again.

“Mommy’s just… tired, my heart.” I managed out, barely able to form coherent words at this point as I felt like every fiber in my body was about to give in.

“Mommy please, you’re scaring me.” Cinata’s voice barely broke through my haze, just before I lost what footing I had, and slammed shoulder-first into the cold hard rock, still holding the fledgling tight, making sure that he didn’t take any force from the impact.

“Mommy can’t… can’t stay up…” I felt like everything from the nonstop flight was suddenly catching up to me, as the last ounces of strength were being sapped by the cold, now that my muscles were finally resting, and the heat from within was suddenly dying out. “Cinny... I need… I need you to listen carefully… if… if mommy goes to sleep, and if…”

“Nononono! Not like Ciphony, not like Ciphony!” I heard the boy yell out, as he scrambled in place, reaching both hands around my shoulders in an attempt to prop me up.

But I couldn’t even sit up.

I didn’t even have that type of energy.

“Cinata please listen… mommy needs you to be brave… can you do that for me?”

“I… I don’t wanna… I just want to-”

“Please my heart...”

“Okay… I’ll try.”

“Underneath mommy’s right coat pocket is a crystal. Do you see it?” I managed out, trying to guide the little one’s talons to it.

“Y-yeah… I do.”

“What mommy needs you to do is to tap that crystal against the wall really hard okay? But only if mommy doesn’t wake-”

“NO!” The fledgling shouted, pocketing the crystal into his pants as he slammed both fists hard against the ground.

“Cinny...”

“You can’t say that. You can’t…” He spoke, with the same pained squawk that I swore to myself I’d do everything in my power to prevent hearing again.

“Mommy’s… very sorry… mommy isn’t… hasn’t… been a very good mother.” I finally admitted.

“Why are you saying this mommy?”

“Because mommy wants to apologize for everything that’s happened. For Ciphony… for our home… for… for this.” I managed out under increasingly hushed breaths. “But even after everything, I want you to know that mommy loves you, very much. And everything mommy’s ever done, was to protect you. And mommy’s sorry she couldn’t try harder…” I felt everything going away.

“-no…”

I felt so heavy.

“-no!”

Yet so light…

“NO!”

Light…

There was suddenly light, and a lot of it.

Just before things went completely dark.

Aetheronrealm, Alewing’s Cove, The Coastal Hideaway.

Plink, plink, plink…

I could hear the distant sounds of water droplets dripping incessantly.

It annoyed me to no end, as I struggled to open my eyes, only to be met not with the protective netting of my nest, but the ragged confines of a chiseled-out rockface.

It was at that point that everything came back to me.

And my heart dropped straight to my core.

“Cinata?!” I yelled out, jumping straight out of the pathetic excuse of a cot, only to land face first against the cold hard rock of the floor.

I was still sapped of energy, and I was barely able to even squawk out a pained breath of frustration as result.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” I heard a familiar, yet distinctly foreign emerging from the corner of the room, followed by the rough clacking of talons against the rough uncut stone floors. “You’ve overexerted yourself my Lady, please, allow me.” The man spoke in an eclectic mixture of old Estan, Coastal, and Crown dialects. Moreover, he spoke with the cadence of a knight.

“Who-?”

“Apologies my lady, it’s been far too long since I’ve been in the presence of a member of the Inner Flock.” The man offered, as he lifted me effortlessly back into the pitiful cot that smelled of damp, borderline unsalvageable hay. He withheld his introductions until I was once more propped up against the collection of haybales that were perhaps the closest things to pillows the man could come up with. But even that was preferable after everything I’d been through. “I am, or, was, second-flight squire Elosia Lapran, of House Lapran. At least, that was my original rank before everything went belly up… now… by the laws of military ascension I have assumed the title of Knight-Keep, but I do not dare fully assume that title other than the responsibilities it entails.” The man offered with a certain level of self-deprecation. “I will not mince my words my Lady, I have failed in my duties to protect the rest of my flight. However, at the very least, with your return… perhaps I can once again rise up to the challenge, to clear my name of my cowardice.” The man offered with a warm smile.

My eyes were finally adjusting to the dim lights, and it took me a few more short moments before I saw the man for what he was.

He was of another coastal species, two-toned, white and yellow, meaning he was from a minor, yet respectable lineage.

“We have similar desires then, Knight Lapran.” I managed out weakly.

“Please, I do not deserve such titles-”

“And I do not deserve the title of nobility of a land I no longer rule.” I managed out tersely.

The man’s face shifted at that, as he realized that despite the hopes that came with my unexpected visit, we were now both birds of a feather.

“Tell me, is my son-”

I wasn’t able to get another word out before the rickety old door to the room suddenly opened up with a heavy squeak.

The knight soon shot to attention as this new figure entered.

A figure which I immediately recognized, as I attempted my own sort of bow, but was stopped by a single outstretched hand from the old avinor.

“Your son is doing quite alright, despite your desperate and foolish gambit, my dear.” The man spoke with a raspy voice that was drenched with a heavy accent unmistakably drawing from the crown-nests.

“Master Arcanist, I apologize for-”

“Shush.” The man interjected, raising his withered talon with his palm outstretched.

The finer aspects of court etiquette haven’t yet been beaten out of me by the new Nexian standards.

So I knew what this meant.

I had to keep my mouth shut for as long as the man wished to speak.

“I see the Nexian usurpers haven’t yet ruined your years of manners-studies. Good.” The man nodded with a solemn smile. “Which is a shame, given that it will be all but useless and forgotten in the span of a few generations.” The man trailed off dourly. “I know why you’re here, Lady Telaniri. I understand you wish to preserve your son’s life, now that he has fallen under the Nexus’ sights. A noble effort, for perhaps somewhat of a selfish cause.”

The man’s hand lowered now, which prompted me to immediately interject.

“It’s not just about my son’s life.” I snapped back. “It’s about what he carries within him. The last living vestiges of our legacy.” I continued, keeping things short, concise, and direct.

“You mean the boy’s arcane soul?”

“Yes.”

“I figured as much. Though, I never thought you to be a supporter of the arcanists.” The man shot back with a cock of his head.

“When both arcanist and empircalists are being hunted down in equal measures, replaced by Nexian trickery, is there still a need to hold such petty notions as familial support for either of the arts?” I shot back with a sharp chirp, keeping things civil, despite my growing annoyance.

“Touche, my dear.” The man nodded. “Though I meant nothing by that, just so you are aware. I was merely making an observation of the irony of the situation. Given your family’s propensity for the support of the empircalists. Your uncle especially. Indeed, I’d assumed that none in your line would harbor an arcane soul.” He suddenly raised both his arms, flaring out his feathers. “And yet here we are, with a son of the Telaniri line bearing a soul with such potential it is a shame that I will have long since returned to the dirt before I am able to teach the boy even the barest of fundamentals.” The master arcanist sighed then shrugged in short order.

“It is a shame.” I acknowledged with a nod. “Though I don’t see him needing any of his arcane gifts, given the plan I have in mind.”

This seemed to garner the attention of both the arcanist and the knight, as the former gestured for me to continue.

“We cannot save ourselves.” I began, causing the knight to noticeably wince. “But we can save our legacy.” I offered. “A legacy not tied to our former way of life, our culture, nor anything else that the Nexus can touch and see, but our legacy in the form of something intangible, something that if implemented correctly, can result in a return to the status quo somewhere down the line.”

The master arcanist refused to interject, still nodding his head for me to continue. Which genuinely surprised me, given the man’s former propensity for his opinionated outbursts.

If he was willing to hear out a plan which called for the acceptance of our loss as a civilization, then that meant that his spirit was just as worn as mine’s was.

“My son’s arcane energy. You feel it too, do you not? It is subtle, barely detectable when not in use. Yet powerful when it is triggered.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that. Indeed, that was why we even opened the door in the first place.” The master arcanist admitted with a heavy sigh.

“Excuse me?”

“Your uncle told you about the code, didn’t he?”

I nodded in acknowledgement.

“Well, you misinterpreted the code. So we were about to leave whatever was on the other side of the door to its fate, that was, until your son generated light just by his willpower alone.”

So that’s what I saw before I completely lost consciousness…

“What’s more, the light he generated was of the pure variety. Something that’s difficult to do even for a third year student studying the fundamentals. He is but a fledgling, yet his soul harbors so much potential. We opened the door because we detected the presence of an arcane soul, which we know are all the more uncommon by the passing day given the Nexus’ reformations.” The man seethed.

Though I personally was seething as well given the implications of the man’s admission.

If it wasn’t for Cinata’s outburst, he would’ve left us outside for dead.

But then again… my uncle had warned me about the very real possibility of this eventuality. It was a risk that I had inadvertently taken the moment I left for the hideaway.

So I put those feelings aside, as I nodded along with the master arcanist’s observations.

“Which leads me to my point, master arcanist.” I breathed in deeply. “I think that with my son’s unique soul, he could avoid detection. However, should he remain amongst the families of those with connections to the rebellion, then he will inevitably be discovered. In addition, should I place him amongst the peasantry, then his gifts will be lost and forgotten over time. My son’s lineage must remain within the rungs of the existing nobility, such that one day one of his descendants may rise to reclaim our world; with titles and both the political and material capital to do so. However, as I have stated, he cannot remain within the ranks of the nobility that have allied with the rebellion.” I offered, which prompted a questioning glance from both parties present in the room.

“Then what do you propose, Lady Telaniri?” The master arcanist asked plainly.

“I propose we conduct a plan to strike at the very heart of the usurpers.” I began, as a renewed pang of guilt grew larger and larger within my very core. “I know a member of the usurper crown-family personally, and I know of certain secrets that can take her, and her side of the family down in the eyes of the Nexus. I have secrets that, should it be revealed, a cavalcade of questions shall rain upon her side of the crown and with it… will come challengers and detractors to her legitimacy. Those noble families that had once supported her, will sense weakness and a potential to likewise lay claim to the Nexus-backed crown. I plan to take advantage of this knowledge, and I also plan to fulfill a wish that she has had now ever since her family took the throne.” I began trembling even more now, as the implications of this plan were continuing to weigh on me with each passing word. “Princess Rasila Dilani has always wished for her son’s return after the attack of the Central Nests. Rumor has it, she has never truly given up on the potential that her son may be out there, somewhere, still alive. So, with your help, master arcanist.” I turned to the old man who glared at me with a look of disbelief, as if he was staring into the eyes of a mad woman. “We will convince her that she’s found the son she’s been looking for after all this time.”