Wearing Power Armor to a Magic School

???

Emma

I was floating.

I didn’t know how, I didn’t know why, I didn’t even know for how long.

All I knew was that I was here.

Calm.

Relaxed.

And tentatively at peace.

Though even that came with a caveat.

Hence the operative word tentative.

Because despite the initial wave of calm, and the subsequent flows of relaxation, a distant, looming, gnawing sense of dread began fabricating itself a home; turning those gentle waves into turbulent tides.

Like the looming feeling of anxiety on a night prior to an exam, or the sense of impending doom that came with spending your last night at your childhood home before moving out for good, that gnawing, unrelenting sense of worry just wouldn’t let up.

It just grew.

It just grew and grew and grew until finally, it came to a head.

Or until that sense of anxiety just doubles down.

In my case, it ended with a simple question.

One that I myself muttered out into the empty nothingness.

“Are we ready?” My voice echoed until it became dull and muffled, its presence in the nothingness of the void seemingly acting as the catalyst for its change, revealing a smudgy hazy world that I couldn’t make heads or tails of; like I was staring out of a pair of glasses caked under ten layers of grease.

“What? Like, for the mission?” A voice suddenly responded, a familiar voice with an equally familiar face materialized in front of me, in the form of the ever warm and encouraging grin of the LREF Captain. “I think that’s a question only you can answer, Emma.” He continued, the blurriness of the world suddenly clearing up chunk by blocky chunk, as I found myself once more in the officer’s lounge; once more with an entire pile of practice paperwork strewn in front of me. “I mean, unless that is unless you’re asking me about paperwork in which case, trust me - you’ll never be ready.” He managed out with a teasing chuckle.

“No sir I-.” I paused, taking a look at the sample paperwork before me, before breaking out in a small chuckle first. “You have a point there, but that wasn’t the intent of my question.”

“Oh? Well what is it then?” The man leaned back, adjusting his gold-trimmed cape as it eventually came to a rest flush against his chair. “Is it about the equipment? If so, you’re second only to Dr. Mekis and the science team when it comes to understanding just how much we’ve come in the field of anomalous exoreality energies-”

“No, no, it’s not about the equipment, or any other practical concerns sir. It’s about… the possibility of scenario E-10.”

“Ah, that.” The man’s features shifted suddenly, his expressions not necessarily darkening, but contorting to something that reflected the severity of the proposition at hand. It took a few moments before he finally responded. But not in the way I’d at all expected. “Yeah, no idea what that is.” He shot back with a complete shift in tone revealing his mischievous intent, his lips parting, revealing a toothy grin that all but shattered the tension of the room. “Because that’s not one of our protocols now is it?”

Confusion struck me at first, before a revelation struck me just as quickly as I realized the mess-up I’d made. “Ohhhhhhh! God, I’m an idiot…” I muttered out sharply to myself, prompting the LREF Captain to let out a snicker, as he chuckled softly to himself.

“You’ve been spending too much time around the Soc-Sci departments, Emma, and not enough time around our own.” He started, shrugging all the same. “But I can’t really fault you for that. This is a diplomatic mission first-” He paused, before flipping his hands back and forth through the air. “-aaand a scouting and recon mission as well but… I’m not going to be deducting points away from you for not memorizing the exoreality strategic response protocols. That’s our job, following of course from the assessment of our civilian counterparts. But still, I get where you’re coming from.” His face once more shifted into something resembling that severe and thoughtful one he started off with. “Remind me, E-10, that’s using the Revised New Oslo criteria, right?”

“Yes sir.” I nodded sharply in response. “The five-step shorthand analysis for assessing diplomatic engagement. With A being Proactively Positive. B being Tentatively Positive. C being Neutral, unresponsive, and or ambivalent. D being Tentatively Negative, and E-”

“Pens down and guns out.” The Captain interjected with a sullen sigh. “With E-10 being the absolute worst of the worst case scenarios.”

“Yes sir.”

“Then I think what you’re referring to here is Protocol 12-01; something we’re gaming to initiate at the earliest signs of E-10.”

“Yes sir.” I acknowledged again, simply nodding as I clenched my fists tight. “I… I am concerned… not for my own safety at the hands of a potential enemy… but at the threat of E-10 being actualized, and 12-01 following suit. I’m worried about the very real possibility of war, Captain Li.”

A brief silence punctuated my response, as the Captain seemed to take every word spoken with genuine care and intent.

The man breathed in, before letting out a sharp exhale as he spoke. “I admit, it’s been too long since the last big one.”

“Sir?”

“Three hundred years, Emma. Three hundred years of uninterrupted peace. Barring that little blip that was the Jovian Insurrection, we’ve enjoyed a period of unprecedented peace and security. Now, I know what most will be saying, and I know the types of thoughts that are swirling through your head right now too. Have we become soft? Pliable? Incapable of war? Have our civvie politics hampered, shoestrung, and entangled the military in a web of reforms for the sake of ethics and budget? Are we now, so risk-averse, that the heavyweights and juggernauts that make up our walls of defenses have all but atrophied?” The man paused, as if waiting for me to reply to those rhetorical questions. But before I could, he responded to them himself, with a tone of resolute confidence that befitted the cape he wore. “The answer is no. No to all counts. While naysayers will point to the sheer drop that was the defense budget immediately following the last extrasolar war, which was mind you reasonable because of the rebuilding needed immediately post-war… nowadays? It’s more or less stabilized. The fixed minimum curve is and has always been active for vital services, and that includes the defense budget. So I’m confident when I say this, Emma. We’re stronger than we ever were before, more organized than we ever were, better trained, better equipped, and prepared for anything. Heck, why do you think they brought me on, Emma?”

“For your forward expeditionary expertise?”

The man furrowed his brows in response, as if expecting a better answer.

“That’s part of it, a big part of it, but just a part of it all the same. What was the LREF’s founding mission?”

“To act as the premier, foremost, self-contained arm of the armed forces with a capacity for the prolonged, protracted, large-scale projection of force beyond the traditional capabilities of the Army, EAF, and TSEC?”

“Correct. But more than that, we were founded because of a latent fear, Emma. Do you know what that fear was?”

“The fear of what’s out there?”

“Correct. The fear of what lies around the next nebula, and what’s lurking behind the next star cluster. For the moment the first FTL drives spooled up, we knew we needed to be ready. And I’m sure things haven’t changed despite it being more than half a millennium since that day. For the moment the first portals open up-”

“-we’re already ready.” I surmised, prompting the man to finally respond with an approving, cheeky grin.

“Correct.” The man shot a finger gun back towards me. “So don’t worry. Your job is to scout and report back. Reconnaissance first, and assessments if possible. For both our civvie overlords, and our chain of command.” He responded with a strong and reassuring smile, before placing a hand against my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Emma. We’ve been preparing and gaming for an alien invasion for the past half a millennium. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that though.” He offered encouragingly, as I closed my eyes and nodded.

Only to open them to see that the Captain was gone.

The room was empty.

What’s more… the emergency lights were on.

And the pre-recorded audio of voices calling for an immediate evacuation blared throughout the empty and blood-soaked halls.

“ATTENTION. ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR NEAREST EVAC POINT. ATTENTION. MULTIPLE PORTAL SIGNATURES DETECTED! ATTENTION. ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR NEAREST ESCAPE POD! ATTENTION! MULTIPLE PORTAL SIGNATURES DETECTED OUTSIDE OF THE CONTAINMENT AREA! ATTENTION-”

The audio screeched to a halt, with three resonant chimes announcing the interfacing of a Class A signal.

A signal straight from Unified Central Command.

“THIS IS AN EMERGENCY BROADCAST FROM UN-ONE TO ALL UN MILITARY INSTALLATIONS. THE EMERGENCY OFFICE OF THE INTERIM GOVERNMENT HAS CONFIRMED A DE FACTO STATE OF WAR HAS BEEN DECLARED. PROTOCOL 12-01 IS NOW IN EFFECT. THE USE OF STRATEGIC WEAPONS HAS BEEN AUTHORIZED BY THE UNIFIED CENTRAL COMMAND STAFF, AND THE ACTING FIRST SECRETARY. A STRATEGIC REGROUPING IS BEING ORDERED TO ALL REMAINING FORCES IN ALL SECTORS STILL UNAFFECTED BY MANA RADIATION.”

A series of three resonant chimes marked the end of that announcement, as I turned to face one of the few windows within the installation, only to see a massive crack forming along its edges.

Water immediately flooded in soon after.

And I was once more floating in a dark and weightless abyss.

I floated there… for what felt like ages. Until finally, a series of chimes… wind chimes this time, started echoing somewhere far off in the distance.

Its incessant, ceaseless, and ear-numbing sounds increased second by second. Its all-consuming metallic tinkling was an assault that did not let up, until finally, it all came to a head…

In a series of loud, monotonous-

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!

I woke up to the tune of a series of BEEP BEEP BEEPS, the physical buzzing of an alarm, and an unsightly pool of drool that had formed on the built-in pillow of my sleepsack. “Blegh.” I uttered out with the grace of a sack of bricks, which I probably now resembled what with most of my body cocooned and entombed within the sleepsack’s soft and squishy confines.

I turned to my side, and a world of hurt suddenly hit me… in the form of my face slamming hard against my tablet, which during the prior night had been propped up on a kick-stand.

With anger at my past self at an all time high for placing the thing so close to my face, I unzipped and immediately squirmed my way out of the comfy cocoon, grabbing the tablet with vitriol only to be met face to face with the culprit of my nightmares.

Sole-contact local authority known as NEXUS is preemptively and tentatively considered to be hostile as per the observed action and intent of several state-backed actors. Modified New Oslo Criteria (MNOC) Category D-1 is advised, with current datasets insufficient to satisfy the data prerequisites of the Revised New Oslo Criteria (RNOC). Data to be… sdljfaslkjf

I made the mistake of thinking I could finish my work in bed.

And I suffered for it dearly.

With a huffy sigh only the Vunerian could be proud of, I eventually found my way towards the foldable chair, reviewing what I’d accomplished over the course of that half-awake, semi-conscious fight to finish what I’d started.

It didn’t take too long too, as I finally came across the last thing added to the report.

Discovery of a completely neutral ENTITY independent from the Nexus’ sphere of influence has been made. ENTITY shall be referred by its local designator: LIBRARY. Diplomatic endeavors with LIBRARY are proceeding cordially; full details to follow within the report.

“EVI.”

“Yes, Cadet Booker?”

“Percentage of report left to finish?”

“Five percent, Cadet Booker.”

“Okay, at least there’s that.” I let out a sigh of relief as I got up from the chair, and started going about my morning routine. “EVI, start going through my morning briefing.” I spoke through a yawn, as I threw my undersuit into the washer, stepped into the shower, and allowed myself to just soak underneath the much-needed warmth of the scalding hot water.

“Acknowledged. Local time: 0743. ETA to first class: 1 Hour and 17 Minutes. No objectives noted for class. Current mission objectives as indicated by Mission Commander… A. Locate and Secure the AM-d-002b Low-Bandwidth Exoreality Unidirectional Narrowband Pulsator (Minor Shard of Impart) from the ‘Amethyst Dragon’ B. Rebuild the ECS C. Resume ‘library questline’ with ILUNOR RULARIA by Initiating scouting and espionage operations on MAL’TORY’S OFFICE. D. Follow Up on RILA’S whereabouts and current status following the explosion. E. Follow up on Lord ETHOLIN ESILA’S meeting request. F. Continue the mana-desaturation experiments. Priority: Foodstuff viability tests. G. Review footage from DEAN’S office following scheduled or prompted self-extraction H. Expect the Unexpected… Cadet Booker, the last objective seems to be written with-”

“Yeah, with a bit of humor in mind.” I managed out in the midst of the shower. “That’s the point, but you can take that out if need be.”

“Acknowledged. Current Academy-Dictated objectives: A. House Choosing Ceremony in six days. B. School Supply trip to town in five days.”

“Yup, we’ll do a bit of digging to see exactly what’s required of us for that, so that’s not a priority right now.” I spoke, and after a bit more bickering with the EVI over the progress of the tent, and a few more housekeeping details, I finally stepped out of the shower; heading towards a small briefcase-like drawer. With a small pneumatic - ploomf! - the top of the drawer released a pristine, perfectly pressed undersuit out of a set of twenty or so vacuum-sealed within its tight confines.

And with a poignant look at the armor, followed by the typical cursory safety checks, and checklist rundowns, it was once more time to face the world.

The HUD that had become my daily driver lit up, and the list objectives we’d just discussed were now sitting there neatly on the top right hand side of my sightline.

“Alright.” I uttered out with a steady breath. “Let’s do this.”

Dragon’s Heart Tower en route to the Grand Concourse of Learning, Betreyan’s Hall. Local time: 0845.

Emma

In what was becoming a strange pattern, I’d left my tent to an awaiting Thacea, who then ushered me out to our counterparts bickering about some esoteric magical topic over in the dorm’s living room.

A lamentable food cart lazily sitting in the middle of the living room clued me in to the status of breakfast, and after a few words of pleasantries were exchanged, we left the room entirely.

We crossed paths with multiple students along the way, as passive banter eventually melted into a sea of incoherent chatter as we made our way down through the winding staircases, across chasms and pits, and even through an intersection where several stairs merged like a twisted version of a railway crossing.

My sanity was about ready to pop as we finally entered what appeared to be a… normal looking hallway. A grand one, sure, but otherwise, without any eccentric magical flourishes.

This pattern continued as Thacea led us down and through the crowd of students, many of which had their eyes trained on me for far longer than most, before we finally arrived at a room with a small placard bolted to the right of the aged double doors.

Betreyan’s Hall

We’d made it to class.

Entering through those double doors, we emerged into a spacious hall that took me by surprise.

And it wasn’t because of its opulence or grandeur, but its lack thereof.

There was something strange about finally being able to see the benches and seats that had been used by thousands upon thousands of generations of students. There was also something truly bizarre about seeing what was in effect a lecture hall that felt more at home at Oxbridge back home, rather than a place that had otherwise exuded baroque gaudiness every chance it could.

It was both refreshing but sad at the same time to say that this room was well and truly something that finally reminded me of a proper university, and not a grand palace or castle.

I stared at the structure of the place for a while, at the elongated desks meant to seat four to five people each, more than likely dividing up the seating amongst peer groups. The whole room was structured like your typical lecture hall, but with a bit of Nexian flare, with it looking less like a tiered lecture hall and more like an amphitheater with the dramatic shift in elevation from the very back of the room, all the way to the very ‘bottom’ of the room where the teacher’s desk sat just in front of a comically large blackboard.

I stood for a moment, gawking at the whole sight, before a thought finally hit me. “So, where do we sit?”

That question seemed to quieten the gathered crowd that had just been talking amongst themselves.

“Well, obviously, we sit where we are assigned!” A bat-like student from the very middle of the crowd responded.

ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A19 Airit Airus - Shatorealm [NEUTRAL]

“I beg your pardon my dear fellow, but exactly how are we to determine assigned seating when such assignments have yet to be made?” Another voice offered from deeper within the crowd, prompting an all out ruckus to erupt after that.

ENTITY IFF CONFIRMED: A98 Navine Ladona - Anurarealm [NEUTRAL]

Everyone once more descended into either intra-group discussions with almost practiced precision, whilst others seemed content on talking over each other in the small public forum that had formed out of the chaos.

All of this finally came to a head with a loud - KA-THUNK! - from the very front and bottom of the room, as a certain blue-robed professor emerged from a side entrance with his hands politely held behind his back.

“ALL STUDENTS FORWARD AND BOW!” A voice erupted from the front of the crowd… a familiar voice, belonging to the overachieving gorn-like lizard, Qiv Ratom.

“Good morning, Professor Vanavan!” The gaggle of nobles spoke in unison following Qiv’s prompting, all bowing in their own ways toward the front, all in a smooth and practiced motion.

Vanavan responded with an appropriately timed bow of his own, taking a few steps towards the lectern that stood beside his desk. “Good morning, students. I know this is quite an… unprecedented situation. For as you are all aware, you are one of the few year groups on record to lack an assigned house prior to your first class. So whereas typically you would be assigned seating delineated as per your houses, today, and for the rest of the first week - you are being granted the privilege of choosing a temporary seating arrangement.” The blue robed professor ended that last line off with an expectant and kind smile. A smile that was, however, unfortunately, not reciprocated by any of the students present as they merely stared back with expressions that ranged from vacant acknowledgement to agitated impatience. The assistant dean seemed to be nominally in control, if only so far as decorum had demanded it. “With that being said, let us not dilly-dally. Peer groups, please come forward in an orderly fashion to pick your seats.”

I didn’t know why, maybe it was simply because I wanted to get it over with, but I instinctively stepped forward.

Only to be matched in my pace forward by a certain lizard-man.

We stood in silence for a moment, only for me to break the silence promptly.

“Okay, this is awkward.” I began, as Qiv seemed to raise a brow at that casual sentiment.

“Indeed it is quite… awkward as you say.” He responded with a tone of voice that was purposeful in its perplexed register.

“Alright then, in that case, by all means.” I gestured towards the empty room, as those words seemed to be enough for Qiv’s eyes to suddenly light up in a hawkish glint.

“No, no. I insist, Cadet Emma Booker, the floor is yours.” He responded with a sharp deployment of tact.

“No really, I’m honestly quite alright. I insist.” I responded once more, matching Qiv’s courteous tone of voice to a tee.

But it was clear he was having none of it, and wasn’t about to back down from the challenge.

“But I insist, Cadet Emma Booker.”

“No, I insist, Lord Qiv Ratom.”

We both shot back at each other in the span of barely a second.

“It is with the grace of my benevolence that I wish for you to take that which you so clearly already committed to.” He once more offered.

“And it is with a desire to simply sit down for class that I am advising that you head on first so we can get this over with.” I rebutted.

The standoff seemed destined to devolve further, if not for Vanavan’s timely mediation, as he stepped between the both of us in an attempt to offer us a resolution.

“You must forgive my interruption, but I must insist we expedite this minor dispute to its ultimate conclusion.” The man began, before turning to Qiv with a warm smile. “Lord Qiv Ratom?”

“Yes, Professor?”

“I must insist that Cadet Emma Booker be allowed the opportunity of first-choice. She is, after all, a newrealmer, and we must be courteous, and aware that she is not accustomed to our ways. I hope that you understand this decision, Lord Qiv.”

The gorn-like lizard relented without question, nodding his head deeply in response, as he wordlessly stepped back. “A wise decision on your behalf, Professor Vanavan. As to be expected from the enlightened force of mediation that is the Nexus.”

With that awkward start to the class out of the way, I began the awkward march of stepping first into the empty hall, down towards the seat I had in mind.

A seat that, if my rear-view cameras were of any indication, Qiv was certainly not expecting.

The middle seat.

“Are you guys fine with this?” I turned around to question the gang, who all seemed to nod along, if only to get everything over with.

The whole room erupted into gossipy chatter following that, as if there was something… scandalous about choosing the middle seat?

With that out of the way, Qiv stepped up next, and expectedly… walked all the way toward the front of the hall, settling himself and the rest of his peer group into the set of seats not only closest to the front, but centered as well.

For a split second, he turned towards me with a look of indignant annoyance, before shaking his head and beginning to whisper something under a cone of silence to his peers.

The rest of the year group followed suit in no short order, as back and forth jockeying and bickering was resolved time and time again by Vanavan before finally… after a good twenty or so minutes of negotiations, everyone was finally settled into their own seats.

So this was it.

Class.

After what felt like an entire year condensed into a single week’s worth of unexpected social and political quagmires, we were finally here.

Within the halls of learning, ready to have our brains filled with what was most likely a portion of practical knowledge with a heavy side order of Nexian propaganda.

Or make that a side and several more free helpings, because if orientation day was anything to go by, and if the dean’s long winded speech about gods and their creation myth was of any indication - this whole thing was bound to be heavy with the weight of Nexian brainwashing.

Yet despite what was to come, and despite knowing well that this was well and truly a magic school, there was something undeniably… familiar about the whole scene.

And it wasn’t just because of the unhealthy amount of magic-school inspired fantasy shows I consumed during that season’s worth of genre hyperfixation in middle school, no.

There was something else here that ran deeper, a familiar sense of home that I’d also experienced back during the emergency assembly.

It took me a second to really think about it, before I finally realized what it was.

Because as I trained my eyes around my HUD, the panoramic picture-in-picture camera-view showing me the entirety of my surroundings… I saw what was in effect the same sorts of tomfoolery I’d expect from classes back at home.

From the endless conga line of gossip amongst those at the back of class, to the preppy-ness of what would more than likely become the star-students at the very front of class, to those that seemed to revert back to elementary school of all things by flinging about magically-imbued paper birds.

The whole scene was a mish mash of behavior I’d expect from the youngest of student groups, to what I’d expect from college-level peers who were just there to sit and learn.

It was a bizarre eclectic collection.

But given that this class was hosted by Vanavan of all professors, a man who had practically zero backbone and about the same amount of tangible authority, perhaps this was just an act of defiance against a man who everyone knew couldn’t really commit to fighting back.

That, or I was just reading too much into things.

It was about the same time that the blue robed professor finally made his way towards the front of the class, silencing each and every minor bit of tomfoolery along the way, as paper birds crumpled and gossip died down the moment he walked past.

All of this finally came to a head in the form of the professor taking to his podium, his eyes trained towards the class in an excitable glow.

“Magic.” The blue robed professor began, announcing the word with more vigor and assuredness than I’d seen him use before this point. The man seemed to finally be in his element, actually looking comfortable in his robes. “The lifeblood of our very existence.” He continued, before stopping in his tracks, his hands still behind his back, as he cocked his head curiously; his features following the same faux-curiosity. “Or is it?” He questioned himself, then subsequently pointed to a random student.

One that seemed to be primed to answer any and all questions from the onset.

Qiv.

“Lord Ratom, do you find any… inconsistencies with that statement? Do you or do you not disagree with that simple assertion?”

The gorn-like lizardman, without missing a beat, responded with a resolute nod. “I do find an inconsistency professor, a blatant one at that.”

Vanavan nodded at that answer, before turning to the class as a whole. “Does anyone here object to Lord Ratom’s statements?”

There were no responses, at least, not for a solid few seconds. Until finally, someone did raise their hands.

A certain bullheaded student, with an equally bullheaded answer. “I do.” Auris Ping responded with a huffy sneer. “Of course magic is the lifeblood of existence! Anyone who disagrees is a blasphemer, and a dissident, with seditious intent.” He announced just as equally, if not more confident than Qiv, prompting several students to nod along to his bullish words.

“An interesting, and well reasoned rebuttal, Lord Ping.” Vanavan acknowledged with an equally respectful nod, before turning to Qiv. “Well go on then, Lord Ratom, where along that assertion do the inconsistencies lie?”

“In the notion that it is magic that is the lifeblood of our existence. The latter statement is vague, but given we aren’t in a political studies class, and instead a magic and mana theory class, it is reasonable to assume that the latter statement is being framed more literally than metaphorically. As a result, the terms magic and mana are more than likely to be used in their appropriate academic phrasing, and not used interchangeably as in a social studies class. Ergo, that statement is false, as it is mana that is the lifeblood of our existence, not magic. For magic is merely the study and application of the fundamental forces of mana. Whilst mana is the primordial force by which magic is derived.” Qiv answered with a confidence that put me in mind of those teacher’s pets from both your typical animated show, or heck, even real life. “Or, in layman's terms, the force with which magic is powered.”

Vanavan smiled at that answer, a genuine smile this time around, as he nodded slowly in response. “Very good, Lord Ratom. Very good. Twenty points to your peer group, and whatever house you end up falling within by week’s end.”

“That was a trick question, professor! A matter of semantics and nothing more!” The bull-headed bull objected loudly, prompting Vanavan to immediately address his grievances with a cock of his head.

“Semantics, as you can imagine Lord Ping, is a matter of great importance when it comes to the realms of academia. It would behoove you to consider the weight of each and every word, for whilst certain words may seem interchangeable, such things are only appropriate when in the presence of the less educated, and the ill-informed. For those of us that wish to be the model of the enlightened and studied ruler, we must always pick our words carefully, and regard every statement with precision.” Vanavan paused, leveling his eyes towards the bull noble. “This is both a lesson pertinent to the class, and the world beyond the walls of this class, Lord Ping. Are there any questions thus far?” He refocused his gaze on the rest of the class.

No further complaints were raised.

Prompting the man to continue unabated.

“One cannot understand magic without first understanding mana, and one cannot truly appreciate mana without understanding its applied use in the realm of magic. These two concepts are intertwined, and yet they are separate and distinct. This is why manafield studies, and magic theory, are my prerogative to teach. As it is simply more effective to teach both concurrently. As a result of this, whilst they are considered and graded as two separate classes, there will be much overlap as classes progress.” The man announced, as his hawkish eyes once more trained itself amongst the student body, eventually landing on me. “Cadet Booker, would you say education is a prerequisite for the use of magic?”