Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (70/?) (Patreon)

The tables had been turned.

Whereas the start of class was marked by a sudden and abrupt question that’d placed me on the spot, the tail end of the class had seen me completely reversing the course of that dynamic.

And for similar reasons at that.

As in the same vein Vanavan had probed me of all people for a benchmark of the class’ baseline understanding of magic and mana, so too was my intent to probe him for answers to a question that would be helpful in establishing a baseline of the Academy’s written narrative - and by extension, the Nexus’ fundamental beliefs.

“Can a living being exist without a manafield? Are you hearing this right now?” Came several audible whispers amongst the crowd, the most prominent of which stemmed directly from that of Auris Ping’s entourage that sat several rows in front of us.

And so it was that that question now hung in the air.

Yet despite my stated intent, a part of me wanted to see just how the man would answer, as a part of me wanted to see just how he’d respond to a question that I knew he knew the answers to.

A second of silence punctuated the room following that question, as dead-air was poised to settle, if only Vanavan hadn’t been so inclined to answer almost instinctively.

A talent that seemed to be second nature to those socially competent in this room, or in Vanavan’s case, those with the uncanny ability to worm their way out of anything.

“By the definition which you are referencing-” He pointed at the board. “-no it cannot, Cadet Emma Booker.” The man spoke with a level of candidness, a degree of confidence, and a complete and utter lack of any sense of doubt in his speech that genuinely made me sick.

Because I knew  for a fact he understood more than he was letting on publicly.

There was a glint in his eyes that indicated he knew as such.

Moreover, I still had that recording with him arguing with Mal’tory through one of the crate’s cameras…

“We’ve seen the existence of a null-fielder, a mana-less, an aura-less capable of feats of craftsmanship that shouldn’t be possible. Consider the ramifications of a society behind the portal that is capable of such a feat without the aid of mana-”

A recording that in spite of its inability to record manastreams, meaning it would’ve been completely dismissed as hard-evidence, still served to prove one thing to me…

The man knew what he was saying was false.

And yet, he didn’t have the backbone to acknowledge it.

A part of me wanted to confront him right then and there.

But that wasn’t the intent of that question.

I just wanted to probe the man for the official party-line narrative.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t press a bit further for that very same purpose, just for thoroughness’ sake.

“But why not?” I asked plainly.

To which several gasps abruptly erupted throughout the room. Though most died down through the surprisingly helpful Qiv, who shushed them down as soon as they arose.

“Because all living things have a soul.” The professor began. “And all souls project a manafield.”

“And so a living being, no matter the circumstances, can’t survive without a manafield?” I continued, cocking my head as I did so.

“No, Cadet Booker. Because a living being cannot exist without a manafield in the first place. For all living things possess a soul, which in turn, guarantees that it possesses a manafield.” The man… repeated, once more skirting around my question with the finesse of a 25th century corpo shill. “Moreover, a manafield exists to both nourish the body, and sustain the soul, as well as protecting both; by dictating the flow of mana in and out of a living being. A lack of a manafield, would mean the death of the body by virtue of mana sickness. Which in this hypothetical case, all but guarantees a rather severe and acute bout of mana sickness at that.”

“But what if you removed ambient mana from the equation? Supposing a lifeform did come into being without a manafield, spawning within an environment with absolutely no ambient mana? Could such a lifeform exist and persist provided a lack of mana on both the side of the lifeform and the environment around them?”

“Suppositions can be constructed in such a way that any manner of possibilities are capable of being considered as potentially worthwhile, by virtue of imposing an impossible set of circumstances to validate an equally impossible claim.” The man, for the first time, actually stood firm. Though perhaps it was more so because he had the word of the Nexus backing him up, rather than him actually standing on his own two feet for something he believed in. “However, if I were to entertain such a thought… then perhaps such a hypothetical may be possible.” The man conceded, and for a fraction of  a second, shot me a knowing glance. That was, until he transitioned almost immediately to his outward facing persona, as Qiv entered the scene just as quickly.

“Even if such a life form did exist, would it not by the definition of life, lack the appropriate axioms by which life is defined, Professor?” There was genuine… curiosity there, a playfully dismissive one that was clearly done to dunk on my questions, but one that was still entrenched in something more than just a cold and calculated social maneuver. “Such a lifeform would, in a sense, be living yet not living. Existing somewhere in the spectrum of things that defy definition. Not truly a lifeless golem, yet not truly a living animal.” The man speculated, prompting Vanavan to let out a visibly distressed sigh.

“A valid and entertaining thought experiment, Lord Qiv. In fact, it is a known thought experiment… but best reserved for advanced classes of speculative philosophy. Which is firmly beyond the scope of the study of this course.” The professor made an effort to transition his gaze from Qiv, back to me. “Moreover, these questions pertaining to the nature of manafields and the nature of life, would best be reserved for Professor Belnor, as she shall delve into the fundamental nature of life as a prelude to her Healing Magic class. I wouldn’t want to step on her toes, in the same vein as I wouldn’t want to step on Professor Articord’s toes as it pertains to answers best left to experts in their fields.” The man once more paused, as if to consider his transition off of this mess of a topic carefully. “If there are no further questions-”

“I do not have a question, but merely a Point of Contest, Professor.” Auris announced loudly, and  with a conniving grin.

“Request for a Point of Contest recognized. Please, proceed Lord Ping.” Vanavan answered methodically, as if he’d rehearsed this time and time again.

“I raise a Point of Contest to Cadet Emma Booker. Considering her lack of tact when it comes to her choice of questions, I wish to impose upon her a more appropriate question that someone such as herself should have asked. Something that is meant to elucidate and expound, rather than to disparage and to evoke misinformation. Something that should serve as a trial of sorts, in assessing her ability to retain the information presented by the noble lessons thus far. I thus pose the following question: Please describe the point where a manafield stops being considered immature and starts being considered mature, and exactly what kind of person embodies this borderline state of being. The former should be easy to extrapolate, the latter should serve as somewhat of a challenge.”

Vanavan seemed to regard Auris’ question for a moment, before relenting with a solid nod. “Point of Contest approved, Lord Ping. Cadet Booker-” the man now turned towards me. “-do you wish to answer? Or do you wish to concede? A concession will incur a loss of up to five points. An incorrect answer will incur a toll of up to ten points.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. As this convoluted system of points was now truly showing its colors as a strange means of enforcing, controlling, and manipulating the machinations of this arbitrary pseudo-hierarchy.

I wanted nothing more than to point out the inanity of the system.

But at the same time.

I didn’t want to back down from a challenge.

Not from Auris Ping of all people.

“I’ll gladly answer it.” I announced with a sharp side-eye towards Auris, not that he could see it. “Since a mature manafield is defined as one that’s matured enough to manipulate mana, and an immature manafield is defined by manafields that are incapable of manipulating mana, insofar as anything beyond the regulation of mana in and out of the soul for survival is concerned-” I paused tactically, before turning to the EVI.

“EVI, pull up a transcript of what Ilunor said about gifted commoners or whatever again?”

“Acknowledged.”

“I thought magic was exclusive to those in higher places and the elite-”

“He’s a gifted commoner, Earthrealmer. Certain commoners have some magical abilities through sheer luck of the draw, or by some gift of some minor deity. Although most of it is relegated to . . . . Casting Levitate on objects. Moving an item across a room at a distressingly slow pace. Maybe something else if they’re lucky . . . However, by virtue of having some ability, they’re instantly a slight cut above the rabble.”

“Bingo.”

“Well, Cadet Booker? Have you lost your gumption to proceed-” Auris couldn’t wait but to interrupt my sudden bout of silence, but even that didn’t last for long as I completely ignored his premature flex by finishing my answer.

“-the point where the latter becomes the former is defined when the manafield in question becomes just strong enough to perform at least one particular type of magic.” I answered plain and simple, wiping that smug look off Auris’ face, if only for a moment.

“And as for my second point?” He urged, his face resuming that signature bullish confidence that radiated with a smugness that somehow rivaled Ilunor’s. Yet was, by virtue of perhaps a lack of draconic heritage, not quite on par with my smug deluxe kobold.

“And to answer the second part of your question, Lord Ping? I believe an example of such a person would be found within the ranks of the gifted commoners. In fact, I believe that’s what more or less defines them, if I recall correctly.” I answered plainly and simply, as I stood my ground, awaiting his reactions.

Sure enough, the bull’s smug grin devolved into a stoic look of frustration.

Which meant the second part of my gambit could begin.

“And on that note, Lord Ping?” I began with a certain cattiness, as I bared out my fangs within the confines of my helmet. “I believe the latter half of your question would’ve been better reserved for another subject, maybe social studies, since this might have been a misstep too far into Professor Articord’s domain.”

The look of stoic frustration quickly evolved to an enraged glare, as if reality allowed it, steam would’ve been billowing out of those nostrils right about now.

“I call this Point of Contest to an end, Lord Ping, Cadet Booker.” Vanavan quickly announced, prompting Ping to refocus his attention squarely on the professor. “And I find Cadet Booker’s answers to be satisfactory, at least as it pertains to the content we have covered thus far.” The man went silent for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between Auris and myself. “Moreover, I find that Cadet Booker has a point, Lord Ping. The latter half of your question does veer into the realm of social studies. However, I do concede that it is a point that straddles the line in that sense. I will thus deduct no points for the relevancy of the question.”

Auris breathed a sigh of relief at this.

“Two points to Lord Ping for a successful Point of Contest.” Vanavan continued, prompting a small smile to reform at the edges of his muzzle.

But it was clear Vanavan wasn’t about to leave it at that.

“And five points to Cadet Booker for a successful response to this Point of Contest.” The man announced abruptly, prompting that smile to once more fade, as the whiplash of his social gambit having failed successfully must’ve hit him hard.

Throughout all this, Qiv’s eyes remained practically transfixed on our back and forths. Having only shifted away at the tail end of the whole discussion.

“And with that, I would like to-” Vanavan started up, only to be interrupted by the slamming of the door, and the arrival of the band in question.

Although, strangely enough, they didn’t enter just yet; now poised awkwardly in between the doorway and the lecture hall proper with eyes trained on the blue-robed professor expectantly.

“Let it be known that I am a man who abides by the traditions of the Academy, and the schedule predetermined by the powers that be.” Vanavan acknowledged with a sigh, towards us, and the members in question.

“However, before we end this class, there is the matter of homework to discuss.” That latter statement was enough to draw the groans and moans of the room, silenced once more by Qiv.

“How does a manafield function? And through what means does one direct mana into a simple spell?” The man spoke, the pieces of chalk behind him writing down the question in bold off to the side. “Next class, we shall continue with an emphasis on the topic of mana, its nature, its origins, as well as an introduction as to the primary focus of mana theory. But for now, class is dismissed!”

No sooner did the man announce that dismissal did the band erupt into a chorus of cheery tunes. The whole thing lasted precisely three minutes just as it did during the lunch dismissal, before finally subsiding as they exited through a magically apparating door to the tune of yet another mana radiation warning.

Following that, came the departure organized by cumulative points. Of which, the EVI was keeping tally of. With Qiv’s group leading the way with a whopping 37 points, and surprisingly… our own trailing behind at a respectable 25, Thacea and Ilunor having contributed a lot during the bulk of class.

It was Auris Ping’s group that trailed behind us at 22 however, and I could see him practically seething through my rearview camera with that piercing glare that didn’t let up until we finally left the lecture hall proper, and took a different path towards our tower.

The first day of classes was over.

And I was already yearning for summer break, or whatever constituted summer break here in the Nexus.

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 16:20 Hours.

Emma

We all arrived back to the dorms with a collective sigh of relief. Or at least, I did, followed close in tow by Thalmin. Ilunor and Thacea however kept their emotions closer to their chest, as all of us eventually found ourselves drawn to what was becoming our conference area - the two couches and armchairs nestled close to the fireplace at a particularly cozy corner of the room.

“So… I hope that was like… an acceptable first day by your standards?” I spoke with a breath of exhaustion

All eyes were on me as beak, snout, and muzzle opened at the same time, poised for what I could tell would be a lengthy debrief…

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room. Local Time: 17:20 Hours.

Emma

It was, in fact, a lengthy debrief. Mainly covering what Thacea had already covered during lunch, but with the annoyed flare of Ilunor’s distinctly snappy and yappy commentary, and Thalmin’s ever-supportive anti establishment vibe.

Overall though, the general consensus was that things went relatively well, all things considered.

Especially with the curveball that was thrown at the start of class at the behest of Vanavan.

And once I’d clarified exactly why I’d pushed Vanavan on the subject of nullfielders, and the chastising that followed, there wasn’t really much to touch on aside from two main topics.

Points.

And Auris Ping.

The unexpected point accumulation was going to be a boon and a headache, because as Thacea put it: “It is best to be middling, to avoid becoming a target, but to remain high enough on the ladder not to become a pawn in some greater game”

Suggestions were had on whether or not we should pursue point accumulation.

And Thalmin and Ilunor, much to my surprise, actually agreed on something for once. As both of their egos could quite simply not take the purposeful and willing deferral of points as Thacea had so thoughtfully suggested.

“At the end of the day, we must understand the distinction between house and peer group points.” Thacea spoke with a tempered, steady breath. “The former will not come into play until the choosing ceremony at the end of the week, and so only the latter is at play.”

“The latter which also defines our place in the hierarchy.” Thalmin reasoned.

“A hierarchy which is a complete farce, a social construct, and a political tool meant for the Academy’s control. Which is in turn, given out arbitrarily by the whims of a faculty that for the most part are Nexian ideologues.” I finally spoke with a frustrated vigor.

That seemed to be a turning point for Thalmin, as he went silent, and considered my words carefully.

“Oh come now, Prince Thalmin. This is a game that we must play! For what else are we to do, but partake in the theater that fate has thrust upon us?” Ilunor spoke candidly, as he tried ‘reasoning’ with the lupinor prince.

A prince who, after a long and drawn out sigh, finally responded with tired and frustrated eyes. “I understand where you are coming from, Emma.” He admitted. “I was missing the forest for the trees when looking at that particular aspect of the issue. I will concede, but only with a compromise. I will not allow us to purposefully sabotage ourselves from answering questions or challenges that are directed towards us. That is a line I will not cross. It is weakness and disingenuous if we do that just to control our point accumulation. I will however, accept a less proactive role in accruing points. That is, I will accept it if we do not actively seek out challenges in the classroom.”

“Sounds like a solid plan to me.” I acknowledged, before turning to Thacea. “Thacea?”

“An acceptable compromise, Prince Thalmin.” Thacea responded with a single nod, before I turned to Ilunor who sat there with an incredulous pout.

“I will have to think about this.” The Vunerian announced in no uncertain terms, prompting Thaceea to quickly take that victory, before transitioning to a completely different topic entirely.

“And regarding the topic of a certain Auris Ping.” She spoke with a tempered resolve. “We must be careful, Emma. You have already once bested the man in the midst of the emergency assembly with your library card gambit.”

“Which admittedly, his fault, and his fault alone.” Thalmin interjected.

“Be that as it may, the tempers of a noble scorned is one that must never be overestimated for their ability to see reason through the haze of misplaced vitriol.” Thacea shot back, prompting Thalmin to simply nod, as he raised a hand of concession. “Which is why I must caution you, Emma, against his possible ire. For the man belongs to a house and a peoples that are known for their ill-tempered reproach; and their capacity for violence.”

“I understand the concern, Thacea.” I acknowledged. “And I really do appreciate it. I’ll try my best to stay out of his way. But I can’t guarantee anything if he poses another challenge mid class or anything.”

“That is all I am asking for, Emma.” Thacea nodded. “To simply remain vigil and alert. Though, given his dispositions, the man’s machinations should be far easier to spot than that of Qiv Ratom’s. Who, I must add, you must be wary of as well, Emma.”

“Of course.” I acknowledged once again, prompting a small bout of silence to form as our seemingly endless back and forths finally came to a close.

“In any case, we should be off to dinner.” Thalmin announced abruptly, as he stood up to full height, practically jolting from the couch with excitement. “I’m just about famished.”

This prompted the other two to follow suit, as they all approached the door with a few back and forths, but not before I made my own little announcement.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to miss out on this one guys.” I admitted, my hand instinctively reaching for the back of my neck. “You know the drill… I can’t really eat anything anyways. So I’m just going to spend the time doing a few experiments with the food I got from lunch-” I pointed to the trolley sitting at the entrance of my dorm. “-as well as a few other chores I have to deal with my tent and such.”

The three nodded in varying degrees of understanding, and with a few more words exchanged, and Thalmin’s promise that he’d be sending me a dinner care package, they eventually left.

Leaving me alone with a load of foodstuffs, an awaiting M-REDD, and another mission that needed to be addressed sooner rather than later.

“Alright, EVI. Let’s start the asset retrieval mission.”

“Yes, Cadet Booker.”

=====

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30, Living Room, Main Balcony. Local Time: 21:00 Hours.

Emma

As the groundbreaking explorations of Darwins III and IV have taught us, drones can and will act as a vital extra set of eyes, ears, and hands, in a hostile and unforgiving environment. With exploratory and military doctrine having appropriated drones into what was in effect, an extension of the human operator, there was a niche for practically every conceivable variant of the concept of the unmanned remotely operated aircraft.

The one I sat cross-legged in front of was no different.

In fact, it was a tried and proven big boy that had proved its worth time and time again in both exploratory and combat capacities.

The Mobile Transport, Command, and Operations Vehicle Mark. CIV… MT-COV if you’re a technocrat, or the MOTHERSHIP if you’re an operator, was a behemoth when compared to the rest of my compact drones. With its size making it just barely capable of squeezing through the balcony doors, it would’ve been difficult to carry without the armor, but not impossible.

For the Mt. Cove Industries’… MT-COV, was meant to be the most flexible, rugged, and adaptable drone operations platform that a sole operator could handle. And was designed for a theoretical war the LREF was always readying for.

A scenario that I now find myself in - cut off from supplies, logistics, and acting as the sole operator of an entire mission.

The thing was perfect for this, down to the efficient packaging that was only made possible by the consultation of certain Swedish furniture firms of all people. Which made it possible to package into the crates with a surprisingly negligible footprint.

Though that came with the caveat that setup and assembly was a pain and a half to get through.

But thankfully, I had the EVI and my ARMS to aid in that journey.

Otherwise it would’ve taken far, far longer than an hour to fully assemble.

But that was only half of the story, the next half was the temporary signal booster setup, which came in the form of a spindly, yet tall, retractable tower that I’d planted onto the floor of the balcony.

That took some more time to configure.

But after all was said and done, I was ready.

“Alright, EVI. Get the Drone Operator HUD presets running. Get my wannabe aerial operator playlist shuffling. And bring up all pertinent mission data. It’s time to save Corporal Bryan, and bring our boys home.”

“Acknowledged.”

Everything started off with a hair-raising, oddly satisfying, wonderfully industrial and mechanical  - ka-thunk! - signaling the successful termination of internal diagnostics and automatic pre-flight checks.

It was admittedly a less than objective means of assessing the air-worthiness of the thing, and was definitely not auditor friendly when it came to the actual written checklist.

But it was a tried and true sign that all was right with the drone. With some seasoned flight mechanics capable of telling almost exactly the issues present just from the startup sounds alone, all before a proper diagnostics panel ever reached their AR lenses.

I was, of course, nowhere near that seasoned.

And so it was up to the EVI, and my own responsibilities, to follow the more traditional route of pre-flight checklists; combing through diagnostic panel after diagnostic panel to make sure everything was right.

Sure enough, not a single issue came through.

And so without much more prompting, came a solid and hard tap on my physical input module, and the corresponding blinking of my drone operator HUD that parsed from an idle grey-white, to a bright caution-orange, to what was finally an all-clear tactical green.

With that, came the actual whirring of all four engines, and the surprisingly quiet yet high-pitched whistling of the turbines that spooled up to flight-appropriate speeds in practically no time at all.

There wasn’t much of a backdraft too, even as I began twirling the nacelles that housed the engines around in a variety of axes as part of the MT-COV’s final pre-mission stress tests.

“Alright.” I announced. “EVI, pull up the status of the drones prior to Vanavan blinking me back to the Academy.”

“Acknowledged.”

DRONE FLEET STATUS:

[INFIL-DRONE01… CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION]

[INFIL-DRONE02… CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION]

[INFIL-DRONE03… CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION]

[INFIL-DRONE04… CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION]

[INFIL-DRONE05… OPERATION UNDERWAY IN DEAN’S OFFICE]

[TAC-DRONE01… SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE ON IMPACT WITH TARGET: MAL’TORY, CRITICAL LOSS IN EXPLOSION]

[TAC-DRONE02… STATUS NOMINAL… STANDING BY.]

[TAC-DRONE03… SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE ON IMPACT WITH MASSIVE UNIDENTIFIED AIRBORNE ORGANISM, UNABLE TO STAND BY]

“Alright.” I sighed inwardly. “Let’s see about getting 02 back, seeing if any wreckage remains of 01, and finding out exactly what the hell’s up with 03.”

An affirmative ping marked the start of the mission proper, as the whistling of the turbines reached their peak, and the drone took off from the balcony.

With music blaring in my helmet, I began immersing myself in the virtual pilot seat of the drone, as it began meandering up and out of the Academy grounds, starting its trajectory towards the town below.

I was starting to be completely absorbed by the motions of flight, until suddenly, that immersive illusion shattered to the tune of a nasally shrill voice.

“Emma Booker.”

I stopped the drone mid flight.

And I could just about feel my heart coming to a stutter at the sudden arrival of Ilunor.

“Yes, Ilunor?”

The Vunerian took that response as an invitation to skitter onto the balcony, his eyes darting across each and every piece of equipment, following the path of the powerline that connected the generator, all the way to the signal booster planted firmly beside me.

I expected him to chew me out, to say something that would show his disdain for the supposed mana-less artifices.

But nothing came.

Instead, the Vunerian’s eyes remained surprisingly busy, as if he was preoccupied with something else at the back of his mind.

“Your aerial contraptions… just how far can they fly?”

“You mean my drones?”

“Yes, Booker. Your drones or whatever you wish to call those abominations of nature.” He responded with an exasperated breath.

“Well, I mean, it depends. I have a bunch of models for different mission profiles. There’s my largest drone that’s designed for long range recon operations, or search and rescue missions in the deployment or rescue of stranded standard-line tactical drones, there’s my infil-drones that are those insect-like ones that you-”

“The one most capable of long-range sustained flight, Booker.” Ilunor interrupted, halting me in my tracks. “How far can those fly?”

“A fair range.” I answered vaguely. “More than enough range to reach the town from the Academy, many many times over. More if I attach external battery packs that’ll extend its range but hamper other aspects of its performance, like its speed, maneuverability, and the like.”

The Vunerian nodded slowly. “And how fast can it fly?”

“Well… pretty fast.” I once more answered vaguely, meeting Ilunor tit for tat with how suspicious he was being.

“As fast as the typical bird?” He shot back.

“Faster than the fastest bird.” I responded just as quickly, prompting the Vunerian to once more re-enter that thoughtful state of mind with a renewed silence.

“And without talons or magic, does it have the capacity for self defense… or offense for that matter? Does it have an equivalent of your… gun attached somewhere to it? Is it capable of-”

I narrowed my eyes rapidly as Ilunor’s questions went down a rambling path, prompting me to interject before he could go any further. “Just what are you playing at here, Ilunor?”

That insistence seemed to finally break through the Vunerian’s otherwise uncharacteristically engaged shell, as he finally let out a sigh, before meeting my eyes with a look of renewed desperation.

“I need your help, earthrealmer.” He finally admitted, before pointing to the MT-COV hovering in the far off distance. “And I’m going to need one of your drones-” He paused, before glancing over to my holster. “-and one of those if we are to accomplish this tonight.”