The Armorer 70. Diamondias (Patreon)

I walked alone through what looked like a very fanciful Art Nouveau style mall.

Highborn ladies in long, frilly dresses and fanciful hats decorated in flowers and gemstones turned my way, their faces lengthening. The maids carrying their groceries gasped noisily. A mustached gentleman wearing a monocle suddenly stumbled, nearly dropping his magic eye-piece into a white marble fountain. His mouth fell open in shock. He looked completely stupefied, following me with his gaze.

“A Topaz addict,” his lips uttered as I passed by him. “How did she get past the front door guards?!"

It wasn’t very hard to get past security to enter the shopping district of the highborns - Agatha’s glider had landed on the rooftop of the mall.

I looked quite out of place wearing my ill-fitting, scruffy, leather armor in the most expensive shopping district crowded with the Illatius aristocracy. I was all too aware of the stares, the comments and the attention that I was gathering.

Agatha, Emerald and the two maids were currently walking far ahead of me. I saw them enter a very fancy-looking shop with the gold [Nemendias Uniforms & Accessories] sign.

I followed my friends into the shop, ignoring the confused, bothered and outright hostile declarations thrown at me.

“Welcome to Nemen…” A big-bellied, bald salesman in a very fancy suit bowed to me.

When he came back up, he saw my bloated face covered in blue, shiny bruises. 

His wide smile turned upside down in an instant.

“Hey! You can’t come in here!” He said, ready to shove me out of the shop.

“Mr. Deggacroix,” Agatha said. “Close the doors. I want the shop under lockdown while my sister and I pick out our new uniforms.”

“But…” the salesman’s eyes shot at me.

“Let her stay,” Agatha said.

“Are you certain, my lady?” the pot-bellied man asked.

“I don’t have time for your idiotic flapping,” Agatha snapped, her voice leaving no room for compromise. “I don't want the scriveners in here while we're trying on uniforms! Do your job. Seal the shop now!”

“Yes, my lady,” Mr. Degacroix gulped. He tapped his armacus on a gemstone panel and the fanciful stained glass doors of the shop clicked closed. The large windows into the shop turned matte.

“I’d like to buy a uniform,” I declared to the salesman as Agatha went into a changeroom.

“W-what?” He sputtered.

“I’m a Nemendias student,” I said.

“You are?” His eyebrows went up, nearly escaping from his face.

“I am,” I nodded.

“But… you’re…”

“Not a Topaz addict,” I said.

I pulled back my right sleeve, revealing my armacus.

“Oh, you’re a lawmaker,” the salesman’s face instantly shifted back to a polite smile. “Forgive me, my lady… I assumed things… your veins look like that of a Topaz addict from Undertown.”

“This is a work injury. I'll get it healed soon enough,” I pointed at my face. “I’m a diver. A Folding Seed attacked me recently. You best give me a discount for this insult…” I said, trying to sound very posh. “If you don’t want to deal with my father!”

“T-ten percent off the uniform,” the salesman offered.

“Fifteen,” I shot back.

“Thirteen,” the salesman rubbed his hands, nervously staring at my armacus.

“Twenty,” I said. "Go ahead, try to reduce the discount one more time. Tempt me to show you my power."

The armacus on my hand unfurled into its weaponized form. I aimed the magitek weapon at the man’s rotund head. I poured power into my eyes, peering at the man in the Astral. I knew that brilliant, orange coronas of magic ignited within them, turning me from a simple adventurer into a dangerous-looking mage.

“T-twenty,” the salesperson gulped, sweat breaking out on his forehead as his eyes darted between my armacus and the magical currents spiraling around my irises.

“That’s more like it,” I smiled, the armacus folding back into its bracelet form. “Glad to be doing business with you. Come help me pick out the best uniform befitting my noble status and I’ll give you a nice tip.”

“Y-yes, my lady,” the bald salesman bowed, rushing after me as I walked deeper into the shop.

In about twenty five minutes I stepped out of the changeroom. I had switched my old armor to the uniform of a Nemendias student.

I adjusted the tie that sat over the gold-thread undershirt, staring into the mirror. My eyes glimmered from within with orange flickers of cendai-sight. Grogtilda’s face had thinned out a bit, but the blue bruises were still very prominent.

“I-is the uniform to your satisfaction?” the salesman stammered.

“It is acceptable,” I nodded. “Do I have to send a maid to pick up the rest?”

“No, my lady. The extra sets will be delivered by us to your residence in Nemendias at no charge,” Mr. Deggacroix said.

The salesman lifted up a gold-plated magitek payment terminal and I tapped it with my armacus, paying for my new, absurdly overpriced set of clothes. There were all sorts of defense threads woven into hexagrammic patterns of the uniform that shielded its wearer from basic magical attacks. It wasn’t as solid as my nightcrawler armor, but it would have to do.

Emerald emerged out of the change room in her new uniform. A topaz diamond pin sat on her collar, matching her hair. She glanced at me, her eyes glittering with excitement. The show was about to begin.

The salesman went to charge Agatha for her, Emerald’s and the maid’s uniforms. I had transferred a hefty sum to her new armacus this morning which would hopefully cover everything.

I looked at myself in the wall-sized mirror one more time. Angry shadows danced in the back of my head, judging me. Grogtilda had never worn anything so outlandishly expensive in her brief life.

“We’re going to make them all pay,” I soundlessly spoke to my reflection.

I turned away from the mirror and looked at my friends. Voltara looked absolutely smashing in her new black and white maid dress, gemstone flower pins holding up her gray hair. The Grogtilda part of me felt jealous of the maid's perfect figure. A logo of Nemendias was embedded into a leather strap on her shoulder.

The same logo but in far bigger size was visible on a massive banner hanging in the center of the shop. It portrayed a highly detailed, swirly, Art Nouveau style, female mage that beheld two fiery wands. A eight-pointed star shined over her chest.

"Nemendias noiumaru sic adimas," I read the words beneath the logo. "Entruci, casohu, un gallefi."

The words were in an arcane Basq dialect, barely recognizable.

"Nemendias protects her flock," Emerald said in modern Basq as she approached me. "Merit, justice and knowledge."

"When I find the avatar of Nemendias, she will hopefully personify these ideas," I said.

"You want to find the avatar of Nemendias? Ha!" Emerald barked.

Her acting was acceptable.

I smirked at her, departing from the shop. Our audience was already waiting for us in the mall, trying to peer into the shop through the stained glass doors and windows.

The fat salesman unlocked the doors under Agatha's order and I stepped out, facing the gathered crowd.

“Look Blake, I told you! A Topaz addict!”

“Would you look at that!”

“She’s wearing a Nemendias uniform?! My, my, how the standards have fallen!”

I tried to make a serious face. 

“A bright flash of magic resonating through the Astral came from the crowd. I stared at the thin, tall, mustached man that was holding a large magitek cube-shaped device with a flickering crystal in the front. Right. That was the Depictomancy snapper, a local, magitek version of a camera. 

The paparazzi were here, right on time.

I stepped forward and the crowd drew away from me as if I was cursed.

Emerald emerged from the shop right after me.

"You!" She barked. "I wasn't done talking to you!"

"Me?" I rotated, raising my eyebrow as the angry-looking princess marched out of the shop.

The crowd of onlookers murmured, stepping further back and making room.

"Yes, you!" Emerald growled. "You stink like you came out of a filthy swamp filled with rotting eggs!"

"Oh that," I scratched my chest. "That's just my debitor tattoo."

"Debitor… Addict… Nemendias," the voices came from all around growing louder. "Impossible! Such shame! The scandal!"

"I am not the first debitor to attend Nendias!" I announced into the ocean of angry, curious and confused faces.

"A debitor?!" Emerald choked, her eyes wide. "You… you…"

"Do you have a problem with me or something?" I asked.

"Who in the deep Astral wouldn't?!" The Amadea princess sputtered. "How did someone like you even get into Nemendias?! Did you cheat on the interview?! You must have!”

“No,” I shook my head. “I didn’t cheat. I came from the poorest family in Undertown and I passed the entrance exam. It wasn’t easy, believe me.”

“Undertown?! So you admit it openly? You’re a liar and a cheat! There’s no doubt about it! The only other Undertown denizen who got into Nemendias hundreds of years ago cheated his way in and was executed by the state! I will make sure that you get kicked out, mark my words! I will expose your dastardly crimes before you foul up the entire place!” Emerald’s eyes flashed with green coronas as she angrily pointed her hand at me in an accusatory gesture. “Human filth like you doesn’t belong in the highest Arcanarium of the aristocracy!”

Agatha stepped out of the shop with the maids.

“Come, sister, we have other things to buy,” she said coldly. "Don't waste time on this lowborn trash."

She eyed me wearily, pulling Emerald away.

The crowd parted, releasing the Princesses and the maids. I noted that two more scriveners flashed their snappers at the scene.

I stood my ground.

“I’m Humbell Pinch,” the mustached reporter approached me. “I am a scrivener for the Illatius Daily. Would you be interested in an interview?"

"Sure," I smiled.

“Iggitus Wompik, Highstreet Journal!” Another reporter emerged from the crowd. “I would also like to interview you!”

“Get in line, Iggitus,” Humbell turned to face the newly arrived reporter. “I was here first.”

“Appa Bolariss, Imperial Tribune!” A bossy-looking woman with round glasses shoved Iggitus aside. “Do you know princess Amadea?”

“Was that princess Emerald Amadea and her sister Agatha?” I asked.

The reporters nodded.

“I just met them,” I shrugged. “They seemed… very rude.”

Appa’s face soured. She was likely working against Agatha, trying to find something of value to throw at my friend.

“Tell you what, lady and gentlemen,” I smiled. “How would you like an exclusive contract with… me?”

“Exclusive in what manner?” Humpbell tilted his head.

“If you’re looking for info on the Princesses or anyone else in Nemendias, I’ll be sure to provide… if the price is right,” I said. “Being a poor, Undertown-born girl… I don’t appreciate impolite royalty. I will be studying with them all for maaaany years to come."

Humpbell's face flushed. My words weaved a truly unique, unbelievable opportunity. 

"I bet I can even sneak a snapper into Nemendias," I whispered conspiratorially.

The eyes of the reporters lit up. They were hooked. The gathered crowd murmured.

“Let’s exchange contact information,” I offered, pulling back my black sleeve.

The reporters stared at my armacus with wide eyes.

Appa was the first to clink her armacus against mine.

“I do hope that you’ll write nice things about me,” I said, smiling widely. “After all, I’m the first debitor who legally got into Nemendias. I expect a fruitful, long term relationship with you three. You and I are going to make history and shake things up!”

I smiled serenely as the other two reporters added themselves to my contact list.

The scoop-greedy paparazzi had no idea that they were making a deal with Satan herself. They could not know about what ungodly horrors I would unleash upon them and Illatius from my twenty-first century mass-media management arsenal.