Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Holo-tent.

Thacea

A veritable sea of light.

As far as the eye could see.

A luminous horizon whose brilliance was obstructed only by crowded blades of grass; with jagged edges and sharpened tips as numerous, as dense, as varied, and as chaotic as the spread of wild wheat in the abandoned fields of Yorn.

Confusion quickly set in, followed closely by gross disorientation, as I struggled and failed and struggled again to make sense of it all.

Before finally, my conscious mind gradually caught up to the realities my eyes bore witness to, and a gut-wrenching realization began consuming my heart whole.

As the longer I stared out of this glass enclosure, the more I was able to focus on each individual ‘blade’ of ‘grass’.

Though I would be remiss if I maintained the pretense of humoring those frankly, naive misnomers; purposefully chosen by a mind that waged a futile battle between the world being presented to it and the reality it thought it knew.

A mind that only sought to protect itself from that which was otherwise impossible. A reality that should not exist.

A reality that advocated for a manaless city of fantastical wonders.

A city of towering monoliths.

For how was the reasonable mind supposed to come to terms with the existence of a city as dense in unfathomably towering constructs as a weedseed field at harvest?

Artificial constructs tall enough to be seen from a distance, large enough to obstruct the horizon, and most distressingly of all… numerous enough to be mistaken as but an element of the landscape itself.

Simply put, a mind could not.

At least, not without a gradual buildup of doubt and inferential evidence, courtesy of an entire week’s worth of the reality defying antics of a newrealmer.

This left my mind with little choice but to concede.

And for a regrettably familiar feeling to begin gnawing at the fibers of my very being.

For as we crossed expanse upon expanse of well-kept greenery, soaring just shy of the forest’s canopy within this glass and metal tube, I couldn’t help but to remember that same reality shattering week that all but broke my worldview.

A week of humiliation, of social browbeating, of being thrust into a similarly alien world; save for the lack of care and personability of this particular demonstration.

A week that left me with a feeling of complete and utter…

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Holo-tent.

Thalmin

…Smallness.

That’s the best way I could describe the feelings of my place at present.

For the closer and closer we got, the easier it was for me to see what lay in front of us.

And it wasn’t a castle or fortress, nor was it a city or town.

It was a temple.

A church.

A monument constructed to light itself.

A construct larger in scale and caliber than anything I’d ever seen or even imagined of.

I’d never felt so small before.

At least, that’s what I wished to believe.

For there were but two instances in my life I remembered feeling anywhere close to this small, this insignificant, this… impotent in the face of overwhelming odds.

And both instances were born out of the Ritual of Fealty, and the brief glimpse we were provided of the heartlands of the Nexus itself.

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Holo-tent.

Ilunor

No.

No. No. No. No. NO!

How could she have known?

She could not have known.

It is impossible for her to have known.

And yet, what was straight in front of us, no, in front of our sights via the aid of this manaless sight seer… was undeniably… almost undoubtedly…

A bastardized facsimile of the Crownlands.

A place so sanctified that even Nexian natives, and those races sanctified by His Eternal Majesty himself, must wait patiently for entry.

A place that the newrealmer could not have known about. And thus could not have drawn from for inspiration.

So how could I explain the sight that stood before me?

Logic now dictated that there remained one sole option.

That it was genuinely what it was purported to be… an accurate visual record of the world the newrealmer hails from.

Which should not have been possible. For what was being shown was far, far beyond the capabilities of any adjacent realm, or even those realms outside of the Nexian crownlands.

Tentatively placing this newrealm on a similar enough standing to the crownlands.

Which again, was impossible.

So perhaps there was a third option?

An option that was nominally questionable, far-fetched, and unlikely.

But when set against the backdrop of impossibility, the far-fetched and unlikely suddenly became the most probable.

Rultalia’s rule truly did apply in this instance.

As I calmed my internal turmoil, and accepted the improbable justification - that all that I saw was the work of nothing more than a truly brilliant, truly gifted artist.

Everything, from the manaless carriage, to the ridiculous nature-bridges, were most certainly the creation of an unhinged mind. A mind unburdened by the limitations of reality.

Which would explain everything.

And lend credence to the Earthrealmer’s eccentric personality.

For perhaps they were a race of actors.

Living out fantasies, and at times, managing to turn fantasies into tangible reality from ramshackled, unorthodox methods born out of their mana-less forms.

For if a race were truly deficient in mana… I could only imagine just how far they would go to overcome it through denial, through fantasy, and through limited successes of bringing those fantasies to life in unwieldy ways.

That conclusion, and that train of thought, was promptly interrupted by the likes of the mercenary prince, whose wide eyes and bewildered expressions clued me into his gullible state of mind. “Emma, what is this?”

“Like I said…”

Dragon’s Heart Tower, Level 23, Residence 30. Holo-tent.

Emma

“... this is my second hometown.” I announced gleefully, gesturing towards the ever encroaching spires of composalite and paracrete.

“There are many names for it, something to be expected from a legacy stretching over a millennium. But accounting for the time period since incorporation the few names that have truly stuck around have been: The City of Dreams, The Sleepless City, The City So Big They Named it By Committee, and my favorite… The Empire City, or well, the Capital of the World is another one that has a nice ring to it. Ultimately though, there’s one name we all thankfully agreed upon. One that bothered no one for it appeased no one. No one, except for rail enthusiasts perhaps.”

The train quickly passed by a sign you’d be hard-pressed to read at its typical speeds, but since it was all a simulation, this allowed me some artistic license in slowing the whole thing down momentarily for that extra umf of dramatic flair.

WELCOME TO ACELA

THE NORTHEAST MEGALOPOLIS

THE FIRST INCORPORATED MEGACITY IN THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE

HOME OF THE LARGEST SKYSCRAPER HERITAGE ZONE

BIRTHPLACE OF SUSTAINABLE URBAN LIVING

POPULATION: 500,203,127

GLIDE SAFE, THE ACELA WAY!

Maybe I should pursue a career in the movie industry after this…

“Acela. Or more officially, the Megacity of Acela.” I spoke giddily through a barely contained grin, before gesturing at the rapidly approaching city. “The town you saw earlier was an anomaly. I intentionally started off with it for two major reasons. One, I wanted to be honest, and to try my best to match the vibe you guys were going for. And since you were showing off your home towns well… I decided that I might as well start off with the first place I call home. So, given I was born and raised in Valley Hill, I felt it would’ve been disingenuous to start off at Acela. Two, I wanted you to see all sides of Earth. And whilst not an exhaustive sample size, I think the difference in scale is necessary to give a more accurate impression of what things are actually like. For Earth is neither an ecumenopolis nor is it a solar-movement’s paradise. It’s both. For there’s a little bit of everything for everyone on Earth. Whether it's small heritage towns, or solartown communities, or even entire heritage cities, or as you’re about to see, Megalopoli; there’s a lifestyle for everyone. Unity in Diversity, as my government likes to say. It just so happens that with the sheer population of these places…” I gestured at the city in front of us. “...that most of Earth’s population trends towards hyper-urbanity, rather than urban or rural as you saw earlier with Valley Hill.”

The whole group stared at me in silence, Thacea with a look of complete and utter stoicism, Thalmin with a maw that couldn’t have hung lower if his jaw was unhinged, and Ilunor… with a decidedly unrecognizable look of complete and utter neutrality. As if he was lost somewhere in the annals of his own mind.

This silence continued for a few more seconds, as I assumed everyone was taking their time in digesting every last bit of information.

It was around the same time that I decided it was time to start decompressing everyone, prepping them for the actual boots-on-ground tourist-certified experience of inner Acela, starting them off in the heritage district, before going neck-deep into the Starscraper Districts the megacity was known for.

“EVI, dim the canopy and windows.”

“Acknowledged.”

The tourist traincar suddenly went dark, isolated now from the rapidly approaching city, forcing the three to focus inwards towards one another, and most notably, me.

“Right, I know this is a lot to take in.” I began earnestly. “But that’s why I’d like you to talk to me now before we get deep into the thick of things. Is there anything you’d like me to clarify before-”

“That sign.” Thalmin began, his voice filled with the slightest hint of nervousness. “There must have been some mistranslation into High Nexian. Your hometown read thirty-something thousand. But this city reads five hundred million.” Thalmin huskily exclaimed under a hushed breath. “Surely you must have prefaced it with far too many zeros. Surely this is perhaps a sign designating the population of an entire realm, perhaps a region.”

“Well…” I started by trailing off, raising a finger in my defense. “First off, the sign was right. There are indeed five hundred or so million people living in Acela proper. But secondly, you’re also kinda right with the whole region thing. This whole city was once just a distinct geographic region, a collection of towns and cities, hence one of the names for it being the North-Eastern Megalopolis. However, that disparate era didn’t last for long. As infrastructure development and public works eventually tied the region's already geographically-clustered cities into an ever-growing, ever-biggering, cohesive entity. In time, the whole region became so navigable, and new urban development grew so extensive, that city lines and town boundaries started mattering less; as a new unified identity started to take hold. And in a story as old as time, with insatiable thirst that was human expansion, a new type of city was established. One not just contained to a region, but was the region itself. With the world entering a new era of hyper-urban development, delineating the early-contemporary era of disparate cities, and that of the dawn of modern hyper-urban development.”

“A region… a city…” Ilunor mumbled out to himself, his eyes glued to the glass canopy.

“So what you’re saying Emma…” Thacea continued, taking off where Thalmin left off. “... is that this is a form of social organization, masquerading as a city, that contains all the settlements within an entire region of a continent?”

“Well, legally yes. But functionally, it’s one and the same.”

This prompted Thalmin to cock his head, his perky ears flopping as he did so.

“The region it encompasses is now a city. Whilst the density waxes and wanes as you go through the various districts and internal subdivisions, every square inch of it is developed, and almost every square mile of fresh dirt barring public parks, has not seen the light of day in the past half a millennium. Covered instead under successive layers of paracrete and unisphalt, and more than likely replaced entirely by composalite penetrating into the bedrock itself. Indeed, some parts of the city are so extensively built that every layer of soil has been dug out and replaced by safer and more reliable contemporary materials.”

“So you paved… an entire region in paving stone and formament?” Thalmin replied in disbelief.

“Is formament some viscous puddy-like liquidy stone that sets into shape when you let it dry?”

“Yes.” Ilunor, surprisingly, replied with a bewildered expression. “How did you-”

“We have it. A mana-less equivalent. But I digress.” I quickly moved on, focusing my attention squarely on the lupinor. “That is correct.”

“Formament isn’t magical in and of itself, Emma. It’s just that it requires extensive mana-based methods to produce.” The lupinor stood there stunned, taken aback, but only for a little while. As he was back to full curiosity-derived strength with yet another big question. “However, that’s beside the point… you claim to have replaced the dirt itself with these… composalites?”

“Well yes. Sometimes, dirt just isn’t strong enough. And you can only drive pylons deep into the bedrock so many times. It’s better that we started from scratch in some places with more advanced development.”

“How… how can the ground beneath your feet be insufficient to the needs of your construction?”

“Because we build big.” I stated in no uncertain terms. “And sometimes, our lofty ambitions and limitless aspirations surpass what the ground beneath our feet can sustain. Forcing us instead to augment or replace it entirely, to facilitate our visions to become a reality.” I paused, before turning to the EVI for a quote that fit this matter perfectly. “In the words of the great 23rd century philosopher, architect, and civil engineer, Professor Dr. Leonard Cohen: ‘We have always been creatures of creativity. It is thus inevitable that in the pursuit of limitless creativity, we defy that which is natural, test the limits of that which is possible, and eventually, bend reality itself to our will for the aims of human creation.’” I paused, realizing that I’d maybe overdone it a bit, so I backtracked with a nervous laugh. “But hey, I’m not a materials scientist or an engineer. That’s just what I heard in class.” I shrugged to the face of a dazed lupinor, and the vacant stare of a huffy Vunerian, prompting Thacea to quickly slip into the conversation once more; redirecting it towards the pertinent points at hand.

“So what you’re describing here Emma, is a supposed urban core, that spans the area of an entire region?”

“Correct.”

Another wave of silence smacked the group with the force of a truck.

Yet just like the first wave, this didn’t last long, as Thalmin’s awestruck nervousness soon gave way to curiosity, albeit a restrained curiosity tempered with a layer of alarm.

“Will we get to see these endless urban cores? Or these supposed works of creativity that demand the removal of the earth itself?”

“Yes.” I announced a matter of factly. “In fact I can show you what we need to put underneath those works of creativity. Clearing out the dirt provides full flexibility for the implementation of sub-surface infrastructure that more or less acts as the arteries and veins that carries with it the city’s lifeblood.”

With those final few words, which only seemed to serve to pique the curiosity and concern within the likes of Thalmin and Thacea, I moved to face the traincar’s door.

Only to be interrupted by an unprompted ping from the EVI. A small glowing exclamation point bordered by cyan identifying its intent as mission-sensitive, objective-pertinent, and just like the case with the impromptu spy mission in the dean’s office, a point of advisory that I was urged to take.

“Suggestion, Cadet Booker.”

“Yes, EVI?” I acknowledged, knowing well that I was potentially opening up the floodgates to a hundred different points of conflict, error, or whatever the little electronic virtual intelligence had in store for the graphics-intensive and processor-challenging simulation that was the city.

“Disable entity spawn. Set human entity count to [zero] for the purposes of this demonstration. As mission commander, do you approve of this proposal?”

To say I was thrown off by this being brought up, let alone as a point of suggestion no less, would’ve been putting it lightly.

The fact it’d come completely out of left field pointed me down a diagnostics flowchart that I definitely did not want to get into.

But maybe I wouldn’t need to, as my reflexive response would take me down a completely different path altogether.

“Why?” I asked, before shifting directions as soon as that word left my mouth. “Identify, clarify, and expand on root causative values.”

“Acknowledged. In categorical order of significance: A. Paradigm shift in diplomatic dialogue, with calculable but as-of-yet indeterminable potential for the disruption of established, ongoing, and potential future diplomatic engagements. B. Information Dissemination Overflow Value projected to exceed maximal threshold, leading to an inverse proportional relationship between further information dissemination and [persuasion value]. C. Factors A and B will lead to the increased likelihood of failure of the current objective of this exercise - the dissemination of humanity’s objective capabilities, and the invalidation of [Thacea, Thalmin, Ilunor’s] false presumptions of humanity’s perceived inferiority.”

I had to take a moment to consider everything the EVI had just said.

“All of that… caused by a simple face reveal?”

“As per current calculations considering new datasets, correct.”

“Okay, why though-”

It suddenly hit me.

“The superficial likeness between the [Elven] species, and that of humans, Cadet Booker.”

It suddenly made sense.

“So what you’re saying is, this will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back? You're basically saying that revealing ourselves to be… and I hate to say this, discount elves, will be too much for the gang to handle?”

“... in a manner of speaking, yes, Cadet Booker. Moreover, unlike any element in this demonstration that can be broken down into their fundamental components, humanity’s evolutionary trajectory is a fundamentally different matter entirely; potentially conflicting with fundamental axiomatic beliefs of the origin of the [Elven] species. In addition, there is a so-called knock on effect that may likewise follow.”

“Point A I’m assuming?”

“Correct.”

“But I’m of the firm opinion and belief that revealing what we look like underneath the suit will lead to an increase in trust values. Besides, being stuck as a faceless suit of armor is doing nothing for empathy points to beings that aren’t Sorecar.”

“Affirmative. Those are valid points as per SIOP instruction manual Section 2, Chapter 3, Pages 22-25. However, these points are only valid so long as Complicating Disruptive Variables are not encountered, as stated in SIOP Advanced Response Theory Section 2, Chapter 5.”

“And I’m assuming you’ve calculated the human-elf similarity curve to be significant enough to count as a CDV, messing up the math and baseline assumptions and rules.”

“Correct, Cadet Booker.”

“So you’re forcing me down the action flowchart right now.”

“Correction, I am merely providing my analysis of the situation as it stands. As mission commander, you are free to overrule my observations.”

“Can I see the math?”

“Affirmative.”

A massive document worthy of an academic dissertation suddenly landed in front of my eyes, prompting me to realize that asking a VI for its proof of work was probably not the best idea. Not if I wanted to get this decision made in less than a month.

“Alright. Fine. But I think we can reach a compromise here. Showing them an empty city will detract from it. It might even start sowing seeds of doubt into their minds that any of this is real. We need people to fill it, that’s literally what makes a city a city, and it’s what’ll provide them a sense of scale. So I suggest I meet you halfway here. Just plop down unrendered NPCs, give them a bit of a shadowy texture and bam, you have your IDOV-friendly human models.”

This solution, like with my suggestions that fixed the spy drone’s pathfinding dilemma, clearly took the EVI by surprise as it took a solid second to parse the idea.

“Affirmative, Cadet Booker. This is an acceptable solution.”

“Good.”

“Addenum, Cadet Booker.”

“What is it?”

“I have calculated that [Ilunor] will be the most prone to Information Dissemination Overflow, and is projected to begin expressing points of denial some time during the demonstration of Acela.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Let’s see how well your predictions stack up. Because I’m about to explode now with excitement. Open the doors, EVI. Let’s give them a show.”

“Affirmative.”

“I guess it’s easier for them to grapple with the face of humanity’s achievements, than it is for them to grapple with the face of humanity itself.” I spoke silently to myself, as the train car doors opened.

“We’re here.” I announced with a nervous giddiness to the nervously awaiting group, coinciding perfectly with those three distinct ‘beep beep beeps!’ that officially announced our arrival into the heart of the city proper.

“GRAND CENTRAL STATION. PLEASE MIND THE GAP BETWEEN THE TRAIN AND PLATFORM.”

“Welcome guys, to the heart of the NYC Old Quarter. The hub of mass transit for the past millennium. Grand Central Station.”

We left the train to the sight of a large and open terminal, the painstakingly maintained old tile and granite floors glistened underneath the lamps above. Lamps which were painstakingly refitted after a century of being lost with the Great Refurbishment Scandal of 2579.

Everything from this point onwards seemed to elicit only a few head tilts from the gang, as each of them stood nervously whilst the ground beneath us shifted at a comfortable walking pace, taking its time as the perspective shifted from the terminal to the large grand concourse proper. The likes of which had been meticulously maintained and shared a special and distinct dual-role as both a working terminal, and a heritage museum. “Grand Central is one of the oldest rail terminals here not just in Acela, or the NYC old quarter, but in the entirety of North America. It’s what we call a working heritage site, similar to the entire town of Hill Valley, this place is far too historic to develop or modify from its original spec, yet too vital and intrinsic as part of the local community to retire to a full museum-status. So it sits somewhere in between. Locked in time, yet preserved in function, as part of the Living Histories initiative started about a half millennium ago.”

We walked through the main concourse with little in the way of much talk between the gang, as they all seemed fixated not on the meticulously crafted murals, or the carefully etched friezes, or even the art-deco revivalist elevators that led to the additional ten floors of elevated terminals above grand central itself added in the latter half of the 21st century, but on the seemingly typical volume of early morning pedestrian traffic.

Pedestrians which, at the behest of my back and forths with the EVI, were reduced to intentionally under-rendered shadowy silhouettes. Though adding to that, the EVI seemed to have given the silhouettes a bit more character than I thought it would, dressing them up in seasonally appropriate clothes.

“Emma.” Thalmin started up first.

There it was. The question. The doubts. EVI’s little gambit falling apart at the seams.

“Is… is there some sort of a festival happening?”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just… the volume of people here. In what is effectively a concourse for the nobility I presume?” He gestured at the old clock, the murals, the friezes, and every other classical greeble present. “I cannot imagine that there would be this many in the ranks of nobility present without a need to be present.”

“So… you aren’t bothered by the silhouettes-?”

“No, I’m assuming that there are some limitations to your sight-seer. There has to be, and I’m assuming this is finally one of them.” Ilunor spoke with a hint of exasperation, as if trying to find anything at all to detract from.

“That is my presumption as well, Emma.” Thalmin added promptly.

“Er, yeah. That’s one of the limitations I’m facing right now. So I’m glad you’re okay with it.” I spoke sheepishly, before turning to face the lupinor’s initial question. “So erm, to answer your question - no, there isn’t a festival going on. This is the typical passenger foot traffic you can expect in the main concourse in the early hours of the morning.”

It was this fact instead that clearly didn’t sit well with Thalmin, as he began walking around our little designated circle, inspecting each silhouette as they walked right through him like ghosts. His eyes were fixated not on just their numbers, but something else about them. As he looked at everyone, from the office workers to the uniformed civil servants to even police officers and the more eclectic crowd of period-specific outfitters.

“You have this many in your nobility? Is this the passageway to the grand hall of your Monarch or-”

“Wait, hold on, I think we’ve hit some miscommunication here.” I interrupted the lupinor before he could continue. “There are no nobles here.” I spoke plainly.

“No nobles…” Thalmin muttered to himself openly. “So… this is a gathering spot for the wealthy amongst your commoner ranks then, I presume?” The lupinor prince attempted to rationalize things once more, his tone of voice indicating just how much he was struggling with just this slice of Acela alone.

“Not necessarily.” I replied succinctly. “There is nothing special about this location that warrants exclusivity by virtue of monetary or material wealth.”

The lupinor prince eyed me down with an increasing level of scrutiny, the skepticism apparent not just on his face but with his increasingly leery tone of voice. “I find that hard to believe, Emma. For if you claim a lack of exclusivity with this space, how then would you explain these superfluous displays of wealth on almost every person present?”

“I’m sorry?” I asked with genuine confusion, cocking my head as I did so.

“Their clothes, Emma.”

“Yeah? What about our clothes?”

“They’re too… clean for the typical commoner. Far too well-kept. With colors used without consideration to their prohibitively costly and socially restrictive nature. In addition, the expert craftsmanship on display is much too… universally consistent.” Thalmin explained, prompting me to finally get where he was coming from. “Furthermore.” He continued, gesturing at the concourse itself. “This… space… is built as if it was a reception hall for a noble lord. Its size, grandeur, and well appointed status is several leagues above the typical tavern or transit lodge for those commoners with the means to travel. I don’t understand how this could not be reserved for the nobility, or at least the wealthy amongst the common folk.”

“Alright. I can see where you’re coming from here, Thalmin.” I began. “But as I said before, we’re a nation of commoners. First off, the clothes. Those are just… typical for us. People from every walk of life have both the means and the ability to purchase clothes of virtually any type. In fact, it’s a fundamental right. What you see here is typical amongst our people, the product of an economy with the capacity to make such things trivially accessible to everyone. Secondly, this place, and many other places like it that have been built since then, was meant to serve the needs of the people. The people who have a stake in the way we’re all treated and governed. It’s in the interests of those in charge, from those appointed, to those we elect - to facilitate our way of life. A way of life with standards which continue to increase with each passing year as per our centennial and millennium development goals. Goals which not only include the practical and utilitarian aspects of life like those roads or the train we just arrived on. But also extends to the less obvious aspects of human development such as emotional and mental fulfillment. What you see around you now is perhaps one of the oldest testaments to that. As it’s a means of fulfilling not just the utilitarian need for transport, but the intangible fulfillment of the human need for the aesthetic and the artistic.”

Thacea’s expressions finally shifted at this, her eyes saying it all.

As the constant look of stoicism broke to something softer within.

Ilunor however, seemed to have taken the opposite direction to the avinor’s mental processing.

“Commoners… have no need nor place for the fulfillment of the aesthetic and the artistic.” Ilunor proclaimed through a dry, crackly breath.

“We all do though, Ilunor.” Thalmin interjected sharply. “It’s just that the means to achieve that is different depending on your social station.”

“I think… maybe stepping outside will grant you a better picture of what I mean.” I announced as I decided it was just about time to move the simulation forward, finally reaching those large doors that gave way to the outside world.

“Welcome to Acela, or more specifically, the cultural heart of it; the NYC old quarter.” I opened those doors to reveal a world of towering constructs. Most, if not all of them a millennium old, as towers of granite and stone facades stood side by side simplified modern towers of glass and steel. This twilight period between the dawn and the day lit up the ground just enough that everything was easily visible, yet was dark enough that the towers remained lit up, so much so that we could see the entire cityscape surrounding us lit up in a dizzying sparkling display of brilliance. As Thacea, Thalmin, and Ilunor, began turning around in circles, staring at the seemingly infinite sea of skyscrapers that all but consumed their sightlines in every possible direction.

A true concrete jungle.

And just like a jungle, ‘vines’ and ‘branches’ likewise erupted from every possible corner, all emerging from the terminal nexus that was Grand Central Station, criss crossing, ducking, and weaving between the towers that now surrounded us.

The three stared out at the city with wide open eyes, with expressions that ranged from shock, to disbelief, to shock again.

Silence once more descended on the three, interrupted only by the ambient sounds of city life as the hum of the rails, the ever-present chatter of the crowds, and the ring ring ring of bicycle bells did nothing to pull the three from their respective trances.

It took a whole minute before any one of them responded, and it was Thalmin who broke the silence first. As he spoke slowly, methodically, with his eyes still glued to the cityscape around us.

“This is a city built for the nobility, filled with monuments befitting of royalty, yet all who live in this opulence... are commoners.”

“Actually Thalmin… about that…”