Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (36/?) Revised Version (Patreon)

Hello everyone! Just a few minor revisions this time around! Mostly just a few details like the golems actually being gargoyles, as well as a few grammatical fixes! There was also a bit of an addition to the paragraph where Emma talked about the crate, as I wanted to add a bit of a blurb about the specifics of the actual threat! In addition to that I also edited the paragraph with the explanation of the Nexus' opinions on Stately Decorum and their expectations regarding Earthrealm because I thought it could be worded a bit more neatly! I've also added a few more lines to the ending just to add to the overall pacing and feel of it! So yeah! I suggest you guys check out the revised version, and I hope you guys enjoy! :D As always, the revisions are highlighted with an underline for ease of reading! :D

I found myself in a part of the castle that just physically could not exist.

The EVI, and every sensor it had, was completely at odds with the reality that the gargoyle had led us into.

Because despite the countless hours of walking I’d done, and despite the meticulous mapping the EVI had carried out during all those hours, the space we had just stepped into just did not align with the geometries of what should exist in this section of the castle.

At least not what standard euclidean geometries would allow.

Physics, geometry, and my frazzled EVI aside, the hallways I was being led through were distinctly different from the ones I’d navigated thus far. The marble here was somehow brighter, same with the walls that looked as if they’d been carved out of a single piece of solid rock. The whole place gave me 3D printed, or factory-molded vibes, but without the minor imperfections that would’ve come with it.

As we made our way further and further still, stark white was becoming a constant theme, as each successive hall I was led to became increasingly brighter. Shadows began disappearing first, followed by what little textures remained, before leaving only the distinct outlines of the shapes that made up the walls. Eventually, nothing but the rough outlines remained, making me feel like I was walking through an unfinished art piece with just inked linework, or an unprocessed 3D render.

It felt like I was in a psychedelic music video at points.

Eventually, we made it out of the stark white, and back into something that more resembled the Academy I knew. In fact, it looked a bit older than the castle I had started to get used to.

The walls here were a mix of solid obsidian and a patterned marble, the floors were of a certain rock that felt hollow to walk on. More and more, the abstract art of the castle began to shift into sculptures of actual people. The paintings on the wall likewise started coming to life, as many moved about on their own, seemingly oblivious to the world that stood right in front of them.

It took a solid thirty minutes of walking, but eventually, we arrived at an absurdly large set of doors, in the middle of a part of a castle that no longer resembled the one I knew.

“Cadet Emma Booker, your newrealmer status prompts me to inform you of the Expectant Academic Decorum. You are to use these door knockers to knock on the door three successive times, in intervals of exactly three seconds. Do you understand these terms?” The gargoyle finally broke the silence that had only been interrupted during the half an hour walk by the clacking of metal boots on marble and stone floors. His gravely, artificial voice breaking through the unnerving silence that dominated this space.

“Affirmative.” Was my go-to answer, as I steadied myself in front of those doors, reaching for the two large glowing metal rings on either side of it. “Here goes nothing…” I mumbled to myself behind my speakers as I went ahead with the motions, generating a gong-like noise that reverberated throughout the halls.

Seconds passed.

Then an entire minute.

Time in this lifeless place just passed slower, especially when you had a constant timer ticking away, reminding you of each and every second that passed.

It took a whopping five minutes before the doors finally creaked open, revealing an office that both looked exactly what I expected, yet was as fittingly bizarre as this whole non-euclidean wing of the castle.

The furnishings, decor, wallpaper, and color scheme all looked strikingly Victorian. Browns and greens dominated the space, as did reds and blacks, with plush seats and endless bookshelves dotting the massive space. In between those were sculptures and busts of predominantly elves, interrupted occasionally by what looked to be aquatic-like mamallians, and even the odd cat-person here and there.

Yet it was the expansiveness of the place that really threw me off, the sheer scale of it, as it was clear that half of this office was built for one very eccentric purpose; a purpose which loomed overhead ominously, unwaveringly, and worst of all… animatedly. Soaring in frozen place above the office with its wings outstretched was a dragon, or more specifically, a dragon that had been systematically dissected into varying states of dissection. Starting with its tail which was nothing but bleached, stark-white bones, flowing into its midsection consisting of pinkish-red muscle and sinew, before finally ending off at its head which was completely intact with black and blue scales that still pulsated with life. In fact, its entire head was still animated, as its features were locked in a permanent expression of what I could only describe as shock. Its two copper eyes were fixed forward with the determined gaze of a warrior engaged in combat, and only once for what felt like a split second did it actually register my presence. Though this was short lived.

I couldn’t tell if this was a twisted war trophy, or whether this was just another one of the self-proclaimed light mage’s projections. Whatever the truth was, I just really hoped it wasn’t alive, and if it was… I hoped it wasn’t in pain.

The dragon itself took up the space of a commercial shuttle, which forced me to walk a good seven hundred or so feet before I was even close to making out Mal’tory standing idly by his desk. His back was faced towards me, whilst his front remained transfixed on a view outside the window. A view which seemed to imply that we were still somewhere within one of the upper rungs of the castle’s many towers, as I could just about see the cluster of lights that made up the town which sat at the foot of the lake formed by the waterfall underneath the castle.

“Cadet Emma Booker.” Mal’tory spoke with a disinterested tone of voice, yet still managed to emphasize, enunciate, and punctuate each and every syllable in my name with a sardonic beat and rhythm. “Scarcely enough time has elapsed for the ink of your signature to dry, and yet your name finds itself quickly becoming engraved within the tapestry of discourse.” The man paused, letting out a barely audible sigh as he maintained his course, refusing to face me eye to eye. “Are we so eager now, to become part of the Academy’s lore? Have we a fire and a passion so strong that we eschew harmony for discord? Is this the norm for what might be expected from Earthrealm? Or is the candidate of Earthrealm so brazen in her personal desires for notoriety that she loses sight of the candidacy she represents?”

I remained silent, refusing to respond. This seemed to finally prompt the man to shift his course, as he turned around slowly, revealing a crystal ball cradled between both his hands. “Your tongue, Cadet Emma Booker. Shall I remind you that you have one to speak with?” The man continued, neither his ash-gray complexion nor his yellow eyes once betraying even a sliver of emotion, despite his choice of words so evidently hinting at his open disdain.

“Professor Mal’tory.” I parrotted the man’s acknowledgement of my presence, but without any of the disinterested dismissiveness that he himself had used, choosing to go instead with UN bureau-speak; a tone of voice synonymous with the ‘de-facto’ way most government employees and politicians spoke back home. It was a weird mix that landed somewhere between professional and polite with a dash of civil-service-rep-agent courteousness sprinkled in. “Thank you for granting my request for this meeting. Considering the promptness and the timing, I have to give credit where credit’s due, for giving this issue the attention and urgency it deserves.” I finally began, opening up the line of diplomatic dialogue without responding to any of the jabs he’d laid out as bait. “We have a lot to discuss, and not a lot of time to do so.” I continued, as I started laying out each and every one of my cards. “I understand there has been a certain level of misunderstanding between both of our parties, and I would like to state for the record that it was not my intent nor my wish to cause any unnecessary trouble. It is my aim tonight to reach a suitable compromise that satisfies both of our parties, and is in the best interests of all other parties inextricably involved.” I spoke as plainly but as politely as I could, following the SIOP’s diplomatic dialogue to a T.

Polite introduction.

Establish realistic aims and goals.

Emphasize mutual interests and a desire for cooperative dialogue.

Maintain non-confrontational and non-accusatory language.

Wait for reciprocation and proceed as appropriate.

“And pray tell, what other parties are inextricably involved in our little parley?” The man shot back without ever once addressing any of my other talking points; subverting the whole point of a UN-style dialogue. Though part of me was hoping for this outcome, because it allowed me to fast-track this conversation toward a trajectory I wanted it to head to.

“The innocent parties that are blissfully unaware of the nature of the danger which lies in wait, Professor.” I began slowly, sternly, making sure not to leave any room for misinterpretation. “The parties that may or may not be involved with this whole affair in the first place. The students, staff, faculty, or any would-be bystander whose only crime would be their physical proximity to the crate when the inevitable arrives.” I took another breath, making sure the stakes were laid out before I established the threat, making it as clear as could be for the mage. “The inevitable outcome which I have described to the apprentice in length: a destructive force triggered by a mechanism designed explicitly with the intent to destroy. A rapid and uncontrolled release of energy. An explosion, Professor Mal’tory. One that will activate either when a certain amount of time has elapsed, or if enough tampering is detected.”

“Is that an open threat, Cadet Emma Booker?” Mal’tory spoke carefully, slowly, once more choosing to enunciate every word and dragging each syllable out before ending the question off with a weighty click.

“It is a statement of fact, Professor Mal’tory.” I shot back plainly. “Because the decisions we make here tonight will determine the outcome of the tragedy that will befall tomorrow. I speak in no uncertain terms when I say this, professor: the threat is real, but it is within your control to prevent.”

“I find your concern over the safety and well being of others to be misguided, Cadet Emma Booker. You speak and act under the guise of a good samaritan. You coat your aims, decorate your demands, and embellish your words to avoid sounding like a savage who believes violence to be the panacea to all ailments. Yet no matter how well you wrap a dagger in parchment and glamor, its shape remains obvious to those willing to pay your argument even a second of thought.” The dark elf continued glaring straight into my lenses, not once shifting, not once displaying even a crack in his composure. “You are not the first to offer up violence in negotiations in an attempt to demand results, and you shall most certainly not be the last.”

I had to take a moment to process all of that, as it felt like I’d just been hit with the full force of not just one, or two, but an entire shuttle’s worth of mental gymnasts headed to the denial and misdirection olympics.

“At what point have I demonstrated anything other than a complete adherence to the diplomatic process, Professor? From the onset of this whole situation, to my attempts to resolve it, I have been nothing but patient, nothing but tolerant, and nothing but reasonable.” My breath hitched up, as I just about caught myself from letting out a frustrated hiss. All pretenses of maintaining UN bureau-speak were faltering, as it was clear that direction was doing nothing to unstuck the crotchety elf from his high-horse. “The reason why I emphasize the dangers involved is because I cannot stand by idly as a literal ticking time bomb counts down towards a disaster. A disaster which will hurt your people, Professor. And as much as we’ve had our disagreements, as much as we might not see eye to eye, I would rather not see anyone hurt.” I laid everything out to bare, as I once more threw the ball to Mal’tory’s court. Or what I was beginning to feel was less of a court and more of a solid brick wall.

Yet what I got back in response… wasn’t anything what I expected.

“Apprentice Larial was correct in her observations. You do sound strange, Emma Booker.” The man spoke suddenly, taking almost by complete surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“Whilst an admittedly small sample size, I’ve now heard you at your best attempts at professionalism, and at your most emphatic of emotional responses. You speak with words that are ours, yet your tongue is marred by the language of another. Your choice of words is that of a seasoned orator, yet the context they convey is akin to that of a common town cryer. I applaud the efforts you have taken to study High Nexian in preparation for your peoples’ candidacy, yet I cannot help but to be offended by the message you force them to convey. It is as if I am being served a dish made from the finest of Nexian ingredients, yet cooked in a manner entirely foreign and unfamiliar. I must wonder, do the concepts of a higher and a lower tongue not exist in your realm? Are you purposefully speaking to me in the context of that lower tongue to which your heritage belongs?”

“I’m bilingual.” I responded a-matter-of-factly. “The language I use most often, English, doesn’t have such a distinction. But the other language I speak, Thai, does. Though I'm not well versed in it.”

“Ah, multiple local tongues. Tell me, Cadet Emma Booker, considering the varying range of tongues, from which Kingdom within your realm do you hail from? Your strongest? Your wisest? Your most cunning?”

“I’m here on behalf of the United Nations, not any one state or territory within its jurisdiction, Professor.”

Mal’tory paused at that, one of his brows raising ever so slightly as he began drumming his fingers against the wooden desk. “A collection of states under a single monarch?” His voice perked up with genuine interest.

“No. A single, cohesive union, under an elected head of government and an appointed head of state.” I clarified without a hint of hesitation.

“Elected… As in an electorate of nobles and landowners?” Mal’tory shot back questioningly.

“No, a constituency consisting of all citizens.” I corrected just as quickly.

“A head of state appointed by the Church or Crown?”

“An appointment made by the Civil Advisory.”

“Is that an extension of the state religion or an arm of the crown?”

“It’s an organization made up of leading civil servants and prominent academics.”

“And your civil servants alongside your scholars are involved in the appointment of a Head of State?”

“Yes.” I replied bluntly.

“And pray tell who is the monarch in charge of this mad house, hmm? What King or Queen, Emperor or Empress, Lord or Lady, has allowed this… experimental state of affairs to come to pass under their purview?”

It took a few moments for me to consider the man’s questions, as I cocked my head to the side in confusion. “I… I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Your elections held by the masses, your appointments conducted by your state’s servants and scholars, pray tell… what Monarch and what Body of Nobility would allow for their powers to be gambled on a whim? To be dictated by the common masses?”

Those series of questions were enough for me to give me pause, as my understanding of Mal’tory’s worldview suddenly clicked. He was assuming that the elections for the First Speaker, and the appointments for the First Secretary, were pulling from a candidate pool of nobles.

“The First Speaker, and the First Secretary respectively, are positions that can be held by anyone, Professor. In fact, there hasn’t been a recorded instance in history where either offices have been filled by a noble. The UN as a nation doesn’t have nobility. Some of our states do, like some of the old states within the European Federation, but even in those instances their roles are entirely ceremonial.”

It was at that point that something began happening behind the dark elf’s eyes. His haughtier, unbothered look of disinterest that had already evolved into a mild look of curiosity, had now transcended into a face full of shock and disdain. Moreover, the man refused to respond. It was clear that something was going through his head. Something that he didn’t want to say out loud, as he finally gestured for me to take a seat at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

As soon as I did so, he did the same, his piercing look of shock having since returned to the same forced look of disinterest.

Though it was clearer to me now than ever, that this was just a facade. A thick facade, sure, but a facade all the same.

“This makes a great deal of sense.” The dark elf managed out with just the barest hint of facetiousness. “It is no wonder you keep mentioning your concern for the well being of parties uninvolved with our talk. It is also no wonder you cast such a wide and ambiguous net when entertaining this whole discourse, and why you started this conversation with the mention of compromise despite our discussions clearly being a zero sum game. You owe your eccentricities to the environment fostered by your home realm. For such a maddening state of affairs to function, there can be no decisions made. Only compromises upon compromises, the blind following the blind. The light of enlightenment, smothered by a billion voices.” The man paused, taking a moment to let out a sigh as he locked both his hands in front of him. “So then, Cadet Emma Booker. How do you suggest we proceed?” He suddenly, and unexpectedly, threw the ball back into my court. “Let us see what a child of a realm of anarchy has to say.”

My whole body tensed at that, as I went to immediately correct what could easily be a dangerous political precedent to set. “I need to state for the record that my realm is not in a state of anarchy. It never has, and never will be. We’ve fought hard to maintain our democratic traditions and our institutions which protect the rights of all humans: past, present, and future. Generations have sacrificed life and limb to build the future which I now call the present. As a candidate sent by my people, it’s my responsibility to make that very clear, Professor. I would refrain from using precedent-setting words such as anarchy, for my presence here is the result of the collective efforts of an entire government, legitimate and recognized by the entirety of my species. A government of the people, legitimized by the people, for the people.” I paused, taking a few minutes to gauge the man’s reactions before moving on. “Now, with that being said, I believe it’s time we address the actual issue at hand. My missing luggage, the crate which I am certain Apprentice Larial has already informed you of.”

Mal’tory’s expressions shifted somewhat as I attempted to shift the conversation back to the point of this whole encounter. “But this isn’t about the crate, is it, Cadet Emma Booker?” I could swear I could hear him grinning despite his facial expressions remaining completely still.

“What?”

“Your claims, your antics, all of it is indicative of a desire to disrupt the status quo for your own aims. This entire situation was in effect precipitated by a choice willingly made by your own people.”

“You cannot be serious-”

“Why else would you have violated Stately Decorum by defiling the Minor Shard of Impart?” Mal’tory interjected with a coldness dripping in self-assured certainty.

I could only let out a single, frustrated, exasperated sigh, as the frustrations at the wishy washy nature of the Nexus’ antics finally came to a head in the form of that one simple question.

“You guys said it was a gift!” I finally let it out.

But that was just the beginning.

To say I had words to finally say on behalf of the entirety of the IAS, would’ve been a massive understatement.

“Never once has the Nexus informed us of Stately Decorum, Professor. Nor any other decorum for that matter. You’ve never given us a list of your expectations, a cultural exchange package which we could’ve used to help ease diplomatic exchanges, or anything else like that. You didn’t even give us the means by which we ultimately punched a hole through dimensions. You gave us vague instructions, you gave us vague pointers, you gave us nothing but what can’t even be considered crumbs leading to your world. Yet we pulled through. Using every ounce of determination and grit, and every crazy idea thrown to the wall by the most eccentric of scientists, we pulled through. You gave us nothing, and yet I stand here, Professor. If any Decorum was violated in the process then I apologize.” I paused, before shifting my gaze despite the man being unable to see it. “But I, and by extension humanity, cannot be held accountable for the violation of rules which we had no context to or knowledge of in the first place.”

The Professor paused at this for a moment, as if to ponder on my answer, his eyes taking a few moments to consider the orb in front of us; an orb which now looked of absolutely nothing and displayed nothing.

“Then consider your candidacy’s first test, an abject failure, Cadet Emma Booker.” The man spoke with an inkling of haughtiness, wrapped in dismissiveness, still bathed in the same dulcet neutrality he kept up.

“What?”

“The lack of any context as you call it, was intentional. It was a means of gauging an as-of-yet unknown civilization’s true nature. We believe the moment a civilization demonstrates their abilities to breach the void between realms to be a pivotal moment in the development of civilization. It is this moment that His Eternal Majesty deems a civilization to be worthy of acknowledgement, where diplomatic relations may be considered. The Nexus is nothing if not wise, Emma Booker, and we are nothing if not fair in our approach. We gave you these prompts, provided you with these gifts, in order to see how you would react to them. We wanted to see whether or not a reciprocation of decorum was a part of your nature. We wanted to see if you were cultured enough to understand the principles of expectant decorum. We wanted to see if it was in your nature to be civilized, and if your culture held civilized values as self-evident through your actions.” The man paused, before manifesting what looked to be the crate, along with its immediate surroundings, within the crystal ball in front of us. “However, you’ve shown us that you are incapable of even doing that.” With another wave, the image within the crystal ball disappeared. “In the same way you determine if a newly-sapient beast is capable of empathy by giving them a doll of a crying child to see what they do with it, we gift newrealms with artifacts with the hopes of seeing what these civilizations eventually do with them. Now tell me, Emma Booker. If you saw a newly-sapient beast tearing a doll of a crying child limb from limb, would you see them as anything but failures?”

“That’s a logical fallacy, Professor.”  I stated outright. “You can’t start throwing false equivalencies and claim-”

“I asked you a question, Emma Booker. As your Professor, I demand an answer.” The man interrupted me in a rare display of some emotion, even if it was a dose of passion wrapped in dismissiveness.

“I refuse to participate in a bad faith discussion.” I stated plainly, standing my ground as the glint in the man’s eyes shifted.

“Yet another demonstration of Earthrealm’s failure in civil discussion.” The man muttered out under his breath. “Allow me to elaborate, Emma Booker.” The man attempted to bridge the conversation forward, despite my insistence against it. “These artifacts, these most esteemed of gifts, these instructions… they are all a way of gauging both a civilization’s capabilities as well as their societal development. A great civilization has a balance of both. A good civilization has only the latter. A worthless civilization has neither. Whilst a delinquent civilization, has the former without the latter. For the problem with the development of a civilization’s capabilities without proper societal development, is that you end up with savages with wands.” The man paused for emphasis, his eyes landing on my pistol knowingly. “You end up with a civilization that has progressed its capacity to do without its capacity to think. You end up with a civilization in capability alone, with little regard for its actions. Earthrealm, by virtue of recent developments, is quickly falling into this category.”

Enough was enough.

“And where does the Nexus fall into this grand game of categorization?” I shot back.

“At its zenith, beyond great, good, and most certainly beyond worthless and delinquents. For we have achieved an example all adjacent realms strive towards: utopia.”

I let that statement hang in the air for a good bit, before finally responding in kind.

“Professor, with all due respect, that is the most reductive, arrogant, one-sided, uninformed, prejudiced, ignorant, and downright asinine thing I’ve ever heard.” I began, deciding to not hold back on the punches. “You talk of big game, position yourself as the greatest that ever was or will be, but what happens when someone becomes greater?”

“Emma Booker, you are out of line-”

“Your system relies on one single conceit: that you maintain overwhelming primacy above all others no matter what. That’s the reason you took my crate.” I paused, staring daggers into the man’s eyes. “You’re afraid, Professor Mal’tory. You’re afraid of what could be when evidence shows that there exists a road less taken.”

“Is this the part where we see the newrealmer claim utopian status?” Mal’tory shot back with a dismissive slight.

“No. Because we don’t claim to be perfect. We don’t claim to be a utopia. And you will never hear any of our representatives or leaders claim as such, all because of one, very simple reason: we are creatures of progress, and not stagnation. To claim that there is a fixed end to civilization, like some sort of a happily-ever-after in a children’s book, is to invite the demons of stagnation to start gnawing away at a culture until all there is left is complacency; history has proven that nothing good ever comes out of complacency. The only way we’ve achieved what we have, is by dispelling that culture of complacency by recognizing that utopia as an end-goal doesn’t have to exist. Rather, the best state for civilization to be in, is a constant state of self-improvement. That’s what we stand for, and that’s what our civilization is built around.”

I heard words echoed throughout the room, as Mal’tory’s facade began chipping away bit by bit, before finally… he snapped. In that his neutral look of disinterest contorted into a dismissive frown. “I’ve heard similar words spoken before.” He announced, before standing up from his desk and back towards the window. “I know how this ends.”

I tried standing up, but not before I felt the wood of the chair growing around my limbs. “In time, perhaps not in your lifetime, your people will understand.”

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 590% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

“I’m afraid this will be it, Emma Booker. I will see to it that your luggage situation is tended to. Fear not, for it will no longer be an issue either of us will have to worry about for much longer.”

ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 775% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS

It was at that point that I saw the window melting into what I could only describe as a portal, an aperture into another room.

The same room that I’d seen the crate sitting in through that crystal ball.

“Worry not, the chair will release you in due course. I wish for you to sit and ruminate on your choice of words and actions thus far, Emma Booker.” The man turned around one final time, before putting one foot through the portal.

…

There comes a point where you’re faced with a decision, a situation where you have neither the time to think or ponder the consequences, but only on whether or not you decide to take the plunge.

In that moment, in those scant few seconds, you have a rare chance to see who you really are. Whatever obligations, social or otherwise you might have, are unable to register in the time it takes for you to decide…

Do.

Or don’t.

And it was clear by my gut instinct to move before I could even consider my actions, that I was the type to do.

CRACK

SNAP

I felt those flimsy restraints snapping like the twigs they were, and the chair all but crumbling, as the full force of the suit’s exoskeleton shifting into high gear caused its legs to snap.

Whatever the consequences were, whatever happened next, would all result from my decision. I felt myself leaping from that chair, just grazing the back of the dark elf’s cloak, before I fell into absolute nothingness.