Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School (71/?) WiP 1 (Patreon)

Hey everyone! Here is the Work in Progress for Chapter 71 I hope you guys enjoy! :D

[MOTHERSHIP STANDING BY… REQUESTING PILOT INPUT]

I stood there, in silence, my glazed-over eyes locking with that of the Vunerian who stood defiantly at my shins.

[MOTHERSHIP STANDING BY… REQUESTING PILOT INPUT]

The incessant reminders from the flight-warning systems blared at me to refocus my attention back to the task at hand.

And yet… I found myself incapable of doing so, as the Vunerian had transitioned from simply gesturing at my gun with his eyeballs, to pointing at it with an index finger, practically dropping all pretenses at subtlety. Urgently gesturing towards a weapon that prior to this point had been an anathema, as if he practically needed it now.

I was at a loss for words.

“Initiate automatic flightpath mode, Cadet Booker?” The EVI finally chimed in, pulling me out of my reverie of disbelief as I finally found it in me to respond.

“No, no. Just keep it where it is. Hold position until I get this situation sorted.” I ordered.

“Acknowledged. Holding position.”

With that out of the way, I now placed my attention squarely on the Vunerian, as I shifted my arms, pinning my fists against my hips. There was no other way of addressing this. For one word was enough to sum up my confusions up to this point. “Why?”

“I thought you’d never ask, earthrealmer.” Ilunor replied with a huff, though not an indignant one, for whatever that was worth. “I am at a loss for my current situation.” He admitted reluctantly, practically forcing those words through his teeth. “I will be forthright in addressing what needs to be addressed, as you will require every detail necessary in order to aid me in our urgent quest.”

“Alright Ilunor, stop beating around the bush and let’s get to the point.” I practically growled out.

“I require your assistance to intercept a courier, Emma Booker. A courier who currently holds the keys to my future. A future with which I had hastily decided to surrender, under former pretexts and circumstances that have since fundamentally changed, all thanks to your merciful and resourceful nature.” The Vunerian spoke with a poetic, almost sing-song cadence, finding it in him to draft a whole poem before addressing anything tangible. It was at this point that I knew he wanted something from me. “This courier has, in his hands, the echoes of my own short-sightedness that once more threaten to doom me.” That was, until he finally seemed to get to the point. “Do you recall the letter you… took from my possession a few days prior?” He inquired with a clear hint of frustration. It wasn’t clear however whether those frustrations were born from this situation, or whether he was still holding a grudge over my snooping of his letter a few days prior.

My bets were on both, but probably more the former now, given the fact he brought it up at all with no prompting.

“Yeah, I do. Your renouncement of your noble titles, right?” I replied, before letting out a sigh, lifting my hand up to my forehead. “Did it somehow get through the mail? Did you forget to cancel it or put it on pause or something-?”

“Do you think of me as so absent minded that I would commit such a blunder?” Ilunor interjected, for a moment dropping his courteous act and returning to that scathing tone of indignancy, capped off with a kobold hiss.

“Judging by how you’ve self-admitted to foolish and short-sighted actions twice now? I’m leaning towards yes rather than no, just going off of objective data trends.” I replied bluntly, prompting the Vunerian to let out an even louder, more aggressive hiss.

That little outburst didn’t last for long however, as either the truth finally began sinking in, or the time crunch he was under finally started pushing him past the outburst phase with a weak shrug.

“Your observations, whilst tantamount to judging a person by the sum of a week’s worth of correspondences… are understandable to me. For if I were in your position, I would more than likely have responded in a similar manner.” The Vunerian acknowledged through a strained breath. My eyes widened as to this rare act of empathy. “But to get to the point, no I did not simply forget. What’s more, that was my first order of business following the conclusion of our library misadventures. No, what seems to have transpired is a form of… miscommunication. A fault that had manifested somewhere along the line. Either through deliberate sabotage, or an inability to act within the strict timeline of the bowmen, it would seem as if my actions have not had their intended effect… and the letter is now somewhere within the wider system of shadow couriers; fast approaching its trailless trek.”

I shot out my hand quickly following that unexpected dump of words that didn’t necessarily click due to a single, yet key missing context. In a situation reminiscent of those countless times I’d entered a campaign mid-game, or loaded up a save file after a year-long hiatus, important words that should mean something just fell completely flat on arrival. As I had zero context to a major operative word that Ilunor had just casually dredged up.

“Let’s back up a bit.” I began. “First off, bowmen?” I scoffed. “I’m sure you didn’t hand off your letter to a bunch of archers, right?”

Ilunor sighed, pinching what would’ve been the bridge of his nose, before moving both hands up towards his temples. “It’s a wordplay upon an acronym, Emma Booker. BoW, for Brotherhood of Whispers, and man for… an individual within their employ. Hence, a BoWman.” Ilunor replied  succinctly. “And as for shadow couriers? I’m certain those words are quite self-explanatory. Especially with the context involved.”

“Yeah, no, shadow couriers are pretty self explanatory.” I acknowledged.

A small sigh punctuated the end of that line of questioning, and the start to another far more pressing one. “And you said you needed my gun as well?”

“Yes.” Ilunor nodded dourly.

“So you want me to go down there to shoot one of these BoWmen before they can-?”

“What? No! Gods above, no!” Ilunor practically shot back in disbelief, before slowly, but surely, shifting to a thoughtful, pondering look. “I mean, in any other circumstance I probably would consider it… but no, not now. Not at this particular junction.” He promptly ‘corrected’ himself; causing me to shoot him an unamused look of frustration.

“So what were you pointing at my gun for?”